It rained on Rashearim for weeks after. I remembered how others avoided me, the power rippling around and off my skin for weeks. I was such a danger then. My father increased my training and studies. When my mother passed, and my world was once more in turmoil, instead of losing control, I focused all of that dark rage and forged the Oblivion ring and sword. As soon as it rested on my finger, all of those harrowing feelings left, and now I knew why. Now I understood the look on my father’s face and my mother’s tears as she held me that night. I did not make Oblivion. I was Oblivion.
