Torin suddenly found himself in a bind, not knowing how to explain the situation. His hand unconsciously moved to his hair and began to scratch, a nervous habit he'd never quite managed to shake. The stag's calm blue eyes fixed on him with an unnerving patience, waiting for him to speak.
He cleared his throat, the sound awkward in the quiet night.
"Well, it's a bit awkward since I don't know if you'll understand me, but I've been challenged by some people..." He put on a sheepish smile. "To, uh, to defeat you and bring back proof."
The stag's eyes narrowed, its gaze sharpening as it stared at Torin. Echo alternated her gaze between the two, her ears swiveling as if she were trying to follow a conversation she couldn't quite understand.
Torin let out a chuckle, more nervous than amused.
"I assure you, it's very important business. I wouldn't bother you if it wasn't." He let out a long sigh. "You seem like a peaceful enough creature, and I wouldn't feel comfortable just assaulting you for no reason." He paused. "So maybe we can work this out somehow?"
The stag tilted its head, seemingly in thought. Its blue eyes seemed to look through Torin, weighing him, measuring him. Then it suddenly moved forward a few steps.
Torin was instantly able to notice that it left no tracks in the soft ground. The grass remained undisturbed, the mud unmarked—as if the creature had simply been a vision, a ghost that walked without touching the world.
Then the stag raised its front hoof and stepped. This time, it left a clear indent in the mud—a perfect hoofprint, deep and unmistakable.
The stag raised its hoof once more and pointed into the forest.
Torin raised an eyebrow, a spark of understanding flickering in his eyes.
"You want me to track you?" He paused. "Is that how we're going to settle it?"
The stag didn't show any response, but Torin took the silence as affirmation.
He nodded slowly, a grin spreading across his face.
"In that case, I should give you a head start. Otherwise, it'll just be a chase." He crossed his arms. "How long?"
The stag simply lifted its head and stared into the moon, its pale light snaking through the green canopy, casting dappled silver across the clearing. The creature's posture was calm, unhurried, as if it had all the time in the world.
"What, until the sun is up?" Torin asked, his brow furrowing slightly.
The stag returned its gaze to him. Its blue eyes held steady, unblinking—an agreement as clear as any spoken word.
"Alright," Torin said with a nod, a hint of respect creeping into his voice. "That seems fair."
Echo also let out a low growl, her nose twitching as she drew in the stag's scent—earthy, ancient, touched with something that felt like old magic. Her ears swiveled forward, tracking the creature's every movement.
She had already memorized its scent, and with tracks to actually follow this time around, Torin was confident they could find it again.
The stag raised its head, and let out a deep bellow that was more intimidating than any howl or roar Torin had heard in his life. It wasn't a sound of anger or aggression—it was a sound of power, of authority, of a creature that had been ancient when this forest was young. The bellow echoed through the trees, rolling across the lake, and for a moment, the entire forest seemed to hold its breath.
Then, without hesitation, the stag began to run toward the trees at an incredible speed. Its hooves barely touched the ground, and only one of its hooves left marks in the soft earth—a trail that would lead Torin straight to it, if he was clever enough to follow.
Torin watched it disappear into the forest, its white fur swallowed by the shadows, and then turned to the trunk of the yew tree where the babes slept. He thought of the tiny creatures nestled within—the fawns, the piglets, the wolf cub—and felt a strange warmth spread through his chest.
It's almost like an orphanage, he mused. An orphanage for animals.
He couldn't help but smile at the notion, the image of the ancient stag playing nursemaid to a motley collection of forest orphans lingering in his mind. It reminded him of Jorrvaskr somewhat. Of Kodlak.
His hand moved to Echo's head, and he scratched between her ears, her fur warm and familiar beneath his fingers.
"Let's get some rest, girl. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day."
...
Next day, noon. The sun hung high overhead, its light filtering through the canopy in scattered beams that warmed the forest floor. Echo's nose twitched as she looked at the cave's mouth before her, her dark eyes fixed on the darkness within. Torin knelt on the ground not far away, inspecting a large hoof mark that was identical to the white stag's—deep, precise, unmistakable.
Definitely the same creature, he thought, running his fingers along the edge of the print. And it's fresh. Made last night, or early this morning.
He stood up and moved into the cave's mouth, pausing at the threshold. He lightly licked the underside of his thumb and raised it in front of the entrance, feeling for the faintest shift of air.
"No strong airflow," he said with a nod, lowering his hand. "No light from the other side. Definitely a dead end."
He glanced back at the tracks behind him, then at the darkness ahead.
"That was a lot easier than I thought," he added, a hint of surprise in his voice. He was almost certain that this cave had no other exit, and there were only tracks of the stag going in, not out. The creature had led him here deliberately—had wanted him to find this place.
Echo let out a low growl, as if to agree, her ears swiveling as she listened to the faint echoes from within.
Torin smiled, a spark of anticipation in his eyes. "Let's go."
They walked into the dark cave, and Torin's hand rose, his palm opening. Magicka surged through him and manifested in the form of a glowing sphere above his open hand.
It floated there for a moment before it began to orbit him, casting pale light across the rough stone walls, revealing the damp, mossy rock and the occasional glint of mineral deposits.
Man and bear continued deeper into the cave, their footsteps echoing softly. Soon enough, they were able to see light ahead—not the harsh yellow of the sun, but something softer, bluer, more ethereal.
They sped up their pace and quickly reached the source of the light.
A natural chamber opened before them, lit by blue-glowing fungi that dangled from the ceiling like tangled threads, making it seem as though it was raining luminous blue droplets.
The light was soft and cool, casting everything in a pale, otherworldly glow. A small pond sat in the center of the chamber, its surface still and dark, surrounded by nightshade, deathbell, and other poisonous flowers in full bloom, their petals vibrant and deadly.
The white stag was lying on a patch of grass not far away, its massive body curled with an easy grace. As Torin and Echo entered, it slowly stood up, its movements unhurried, as if it had been expecting them.
Torin stared at the stag and tilted his head skeptically, feeling that something was off. The creature had led him here so easily, had waited for him so patiently—and now it simply lay there, watching him with those calm blue eyes, as if the game was already over.
That can't be it, he thought. It can't be this simple.
He cleared his throat, his voice echoing slightly in the cavern.
"Is that it...?" He paused. "Did we win?"
The stag let out a snort—a sharp, dismissive sound—and beat the ground with its hoof. The impact sent a tremor through the stone floor, and before Torin could react, it suddenly charged at him.
Alarmed, Torin quickly jumped to the side, his body moving on instinct. Echo did the same, her massive form hurling itself out of the stag's path. The creature sped past them and into the tunnel, its hooves echoing against the stone, continuing ahead without stopping.
Torin let out a long, exasperated sigh as he began to run after it, his boots pounding against the rocky floor.
"First it was hide and seek," he muttered, "and now it's tag."
Echo let out an annoyed growl as she ran beside him, her massive paws eating up the ground, her breath coming in steady, rhythmic huffs.
Torin rolled his eyes, glancing at her as they ran.
"What do you want me to do about it anyway?" He shook his head. "Just shut up and let me focus on casting my spells."
Magicka surged through him, and he began to weave the spell—a Haste enchantment, layering it over himself and Echo. The world seemed to slow around them as the magic took hold, their movements growing faster, more fluid.
The stag continued to run ahead, its white form a blur in the dim light of the tunnel.
This day is gonna be even busier than I thought, Torin muttered under his breath.
...
Night had settled over Daggerfall like a velvet shroud, its streets quiet, its towers silhouetted against a star-scattered sky.
In the royal palace, within the court wizard's study, the air was thick with the scent of old parchment, dried herbs, and the faint crackle of magic. Candles flickered on every surface, their flames casting dancing shadows across walls lined with ancient tomes and curious artifacts.
Gautier stood before a scrying orb that rested on a wrought-iron stand, its surface swirling with soft, translucent light. The orb was no artifact of Vaermina—it was a far humbler thing, a creation of druidic craft, its power drawn from the living world rather than the realms of Oblivion.
Only a very powerful druid could use it, and even then, its range was limited by the eyes of beasts the druir had bonded with. But for observing the forest near the city, it served just fine.
Within the orb's depths, an image shimmered into view: Torin and Echo, their forms blurred with speed, chasing a white stag through a moonlit forest. The stag moved with impossible grace, its hooves barely touching the ground, its white fur gleaming like liquid silver.
Gautier watched with narrowed eyes, his arms crossed, his jaw tight. After a long moment, he let out a low scoff.
"You told me no one could find that beast," he said, his voice clipped. "You said it was a legend—a tale to frighten children and superstitious peasants. And yet here we are, watching a Northman chase it through the woods like a common hound."
Madam Aveline sat in a high-backed chair near the fire, her gnarled hands resting on the arms, her eyes fixed on the orb with a calm, knowing expression. She did not look at him when she spoke.
"I told you no one could find it if it did not wish to be found," she said, her voice dry as old leaves. "I did not say it was impossible. I said it was improbable." She paused, her gaze sharpening. "And if I had known what you intended to do with that knowledge when you asked for an impossible challenge, I would not have told you about the white stag in the first place."
Gautier's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
In the orb, the chase continued. Torin and Echo had cornered the stag at the edge of a rocky outcropping, the beast's massive form silhouetted against the moonlight. It stood its ground, its blue eyes fixed on the Nord, its breath coming in steady, measured huffs.
Aveline's eyes narrowed, and she turned to glare at Gautier, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone.
"Let me make myself clear, Count." She rose from her chair, her presence suddenly filling the room. "If either Skyrim's representative or the white stag are harmed because of your scheming, there will be a price to pay. It has guarded this forest for longer than your house has stood."
Gautier met her gaze without flinching, his expression hard.
"There will be a price to pay either way," he said flatly. "And no price will be greater than the one we would have to pay if Armand wins." He shook his head slowly. "I refuse to wager my life—and my house's thousand-year legacy—on a mere duel."
His gaze returned to the orb, where Torin and the stag were now sizing each other up, neither moving, both waiting for the other to make the first move.
"But..." Gautier's voice softened, just slightly. "If this young man continues to surprise me, then I will have no choice but to do just that."
Aveline studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she turned back to the orb, her hands clasped before her.
"We shall see," she said quietly. "We shall see."
...
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