19 Last Seed
I awoke from a terrible nightmare. I dreamt of Helgen. Relived may be truer to the statement. Ralof was up yet, drowning himself in a bottle of mead, and invited me to join him. We spoke of the Stormcloaks and the rebellion – he suggested I might join them, but I was noncommittal. I may owe him a life-debt, but that doesn't mean I agree with his ideals. Becoming restless, I decided to admire the stars and to collect my thoughts. I found myself traveling the road back to Helgen, revisiting the Guardian Stones. On a whim, I activated the mage stone – perhaps inspired by my slaying of the wolves the other day. I continued on to the once-city. I don't know what I anticipated to find there, and though my stomach turned at the thought of returning, I found myself compelled to press on. The flames were still smoldering. I found no survivors, nor did I truly expect to. There were a few bodies, scorched beyond recognition. I said a quick prayer for them, but didn't know what else to do. I moved on some time past noon. The ordeal was draining on my psyche; I can still hear the screams and pleas of dying men, when I'm unoccupied. I think I'll turn in early, rude as that may seem. I haven't the energy to do anything else at the moment.