Abject terror. That was the first and last thing she remembered. She had been taken out of her bedroll by several masked thugs and rendered unconscious with some kind of spell. When she awoke, she was bound on an altar and a high elf was standing over with a blade, chanting. She didn’t even have time to scream before the blade came down and pierced her heart. One single moment of mind-blowing pain, and she felt nothing else.
It was midday, and the glare was blinding. The fact that her head was throbbing didn’t help. “Oh, sweet Y’ffre,” groaned Kaawen, a tiny Bosmer with long, silver hair and emerald-green eyes, squinting to block out the sunlight. Well, at least she wasn’t seasick anymore. She usually had no problem with ocean travel, but riding out a hurricane could make anybody’s stomach do flipflops.
She dragged herself to a sitting position and took in her surroundings. She was on a beach strewn with debris, and a handful of shipwrecks dotted the coastline. The storm had come up out of nowhere, and it had been devastating. She didn’t even see the Wayrest, the ship she had been sailing on, among the wreckage. She wondered how far she had traveled before washing ashore. The last thing she remembered was getting tossed over the side by a huge wave and feeling a searing pain in her head. She had been sure she was going to die, but apparently the Divines weren’t done with her yet, because here she sat. Aside from the headache, she seemed to be all right; she even had her bow with her, still threaded through the strap of her knapsack, which remained buckled across her chest. Unfortunately, her quiver and all of her arrows were gone.