Eight years had passed since Rodhan had left his village. Eight years since everything he knew had been turned to ash. Eight years since he began his new life with Cyrus and Elenwen.
The years that had passed were more or less happy ones. They did not spend much time in Morrowind, it seemed to be as unfitting a home for Cyrus and Elenwen as Skingrad. Instead they came home to Cyrodill. Moving from village to village, city to city. The group rarely spent more than a month in any one place. Rodhan never minded the traveling, he considered it adventure, and as Cyrus had once said, Rodhan did learn much from his new friends. Though he lacked the sheer size and strength to effectively use a longsword, after years of training and sparring, Rodhan became very effective with a shortsword. He was a very quick and nimble fighter. A perfect balance to Cyrus' imposing size and overwhelming strength. However the one thing Cyrus was relentless with was "control." He would constantly tell Rodhan that the most important thing was to "maintain control." Rodhan wasnt sure what he meant by that, but he took it to heart anyway.
He also learned some magick from Elenwen. She mostly taught him spells to heal his wounds after a training session with Cyrus, and also taught him how to weave magical energy into armor. He often asked to learn destruction magic, but she always told him that he didn't have the capacity to use it and he shouldn't even try. Rodhan was often confused by her unwillingness to teach him, but he did not push her. Counter to Cyrus' easygoing and caring nature, Elenwen always acted coldly towards him. Almost as if she wasn't seeing him, but something else. He never let it bother him too much. His magick was always limited, and almost seemed as if it was being cut off from him somehow.
Over the years, Rodhan grew to understand the world, and how people interacted with each other. Over time he began to realize that despite being total opposites, and constantly arguing, Cyrus and Elenwen cared a great deal about each other. He believed that this was somehow related to why they never stayed in the same place very long. He wondered how the two even met. Cyrus seemed as common as most, but Elenwen seemed to possess an almost royal quality to her. These thoughts came and went as often as any, but it was still a mystery to the young man. Then again there were many mysteries in this world that he had not even begun to consider.
One day as the group was setting up camp near Cheydinhal, Cyrus sent Rodhan to town to fetch some supplies and sell some furs and herbs that they had gathered. This had become a common occurence over the past year, and Rodhan didn't mind leaving to give the two some time alone with eachother. Besides Rodhan was at the age where he desired some seperation from his "parents." He laughed when the thought entered his mind. An old Redguard and an angry Altmer woman were his parents.
Rodhan concluded his business at the local shops much earlier than expected and decided to waste some time walking around town. He met a local girl and the two started talking, and before he knew it he had stayed far longer than he intended. He thanked the kind girl for her time, asked if he could see her again, then ran off back to camp.
When he neared the campsite he heard more voices than he should have, and not all of them were familiar. When Rodhan got close enough to hear one of the strangers yelled, "This has gone on long enough Cyrus!! Where is she?!" Cyrus replied "I parted ways with that Altmer bitch years ago. Nag, Nag, Nag was all she did. Only reason I stay off the roads these days is that you fools don't believe me." The stranger stepped towards Cyrus and drew his sword, "I will ask you one last time. WHERE IS SHE!!!!!" Cyrus placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, "Be careful Garrick, the last time we crossed blades I left that nasty scar on your face. I'd hate to have to make you even uglier." Hidden behind the trees Rodhan drew his sword in case he needed to hurry to Cyrus' aid.
The man named Garrick lunged at Cyrus. Cyrus drew his sword and dodged the attack in one smooth motion. The two faced off for several minutes, but it was clear that Cyrus was the superior fighter so Rodhan chose to stay hidden. Garrick grew frustrated of Cyrus toying with him and his attacks became irrational and rushed. Cyrus was able to knock Garrick to the ground with the hilt of his sword, sparing him the blade. Cyrus reached out his hand and said, "Come old friend. Let us stop this foolishness, and drink like we used to." Garrick looked towards his men. He could not possibly accept such an offer in the presence of others, but strangely enough he said "Very well, It is clear that you have bested me. Let us part ways once again." He grabbed Cyrus' outstretched hand, pulled himself up and plunged a concealed dagger into Cyrus' chest.
Cyrus did not move. He did not shake. He did not stumble. With the sword in his other hand he removed Garrick's head faster than Rodhan could see. Garrick's men simply stood there, shocked. Cyrus then fell to his knees, blood pouring out of his mouth and chest. Rodhan ran to his side as fast as he could, dropping his sword along the way. Rodhan tried the healing spells Elenwen had taught him, but to no effect. Rodhan knew there was more magic within him. He pushed harder, and harder into his soul to find what he needed to save his friend...no, his father. He sat there pouring everything he had into Cyrus, but to no effect. Cyrus looked up at Rodhan and while coughing blood said these words. "Do not waste your efforts on an old man like me. You should be more concerned with yourself. Elenwen calls it a curse, but I prefer to think of it as a gift. Within you is the power to shape the destiny of so many. I just wish I had the knowledge to teach you to control it. Remember, no matter what, maintain control."
As Rodhan sat there, holding Cyrus' lifeless body, utterly confused by his father's last words, he lifted his head. Garrick's men were still there. Rodhan started to feel a burning in his chest. He rose to his feet, and started screaming at the strangers. Then it happened. Rodhan's eyes turned black. The air around him became hot. He took up the stance that Cyrus' had taught him. Once of the strangers laughed, "What are you doing boy? Standing like that. You don't even have a sword." At that very moment, as if it was cut from his own flesh, A sword appeared in Rodhan's hand. It had a pale blue glow for a moment. Then suddenly the sword burst into flames. Only the divine know what happened after that. For Rodhan does not remember, and there were no survivors to tell the tale.