Skyrim Blind Cliff Cave Novels & Stories

Once they were in the Red Moon territory, Eva tensed up at the smell of blood. "Spread out and help out whoever you can!" Eva commanded as she let the sounds of battle guide her. She wanted nothing more than to help out. She wanted to prove that although she was blind, she was not any different from anyone else. As she drew closer and closer to the battle, she could hear the growls and snarls of the wolves. The tearing of flesh and the cries of injured wolves, sounds overwhelmed her, and she found herself slowing down to be able to take it all in.

"Near the border. And something else in the east, by the coast." Morwen marked the locations on a map. "That's a lot of ground to cover." "We'll cover it. One location at a time." --- The first location was a cave in the northern mountains. Clara and Morwen traveled there, accompanied by a small team of trusted allies. The cave was dark, cold, and filled with the faint residue of the Hollow's power. "It's here," Clara said, her voice echoing in the darkness. "I can feel it." They searched the cave, following the trail of energy to a small crevice in the back wall. There, hidden in the shadows, was another seed—smaller than the first, but just as dangerous.

I gasped quietly, my knees buckling under the weight of the text. As I stared blankly at the blood-red ink, a sudden, terrifying rush of memories invaded my thoughts. I remembered the ancient prophecy the blind Seer had delivered when we journeyed to his cave inside the Whispering Crags of the Blood-Moon Peaks. When we had sought his help to destroy the witch Morgana.

He was light, terrifyingly so, as if the life force were being drained from his body to fuel the dark magic binding him to Blackwood. They moved through the village, past the hollowed-out inhabitants who watched them with dull, vacant stares. They finally reached the base of a jagged cliff at the edge of the valley, where a fissure in the rock gaped like an open mouth. ​It was the entrance to the cave. ​"This is it," Selene said, pointing to the obsidian-like rock face. "The final barrier." ​As they stepped into the darkness of the passage, the temperature plummeted.

I crest the ridge at the grey ragged edge of dawn, and the valley of the Pale opens below me, and I have to grip the frozen rock with both bleeding hands to keep from going down to my knees a second time in two days. The cliff-wall. Cassian warned me of it, and his words did not touch it; nothing could have. A whole face of black stone below the hall, carved into niche after niche after niche, and in every niche a pale shape standing upright in the blue, dozens, scores, hundreds, a cliff hung with hollowed wolves the way a feast hall is hung with lamps, except these lamps give no light and never will again. The approach to the gates runs right beneath them, a thin pale path under all that ru

Chase's expression darkened, his figure flickering as he swiftly scaled the steep rock face, reaching the summit in mere moments. "This cave entrance is hidden within the cliffside, and there's even a concealed barrier placed over it. Anyone who enters without knowing its location would be walking straight to their death!" Chase muttered to himself. He crouched behind a boulder, sharpening his focus on the cave's interior. What he saw made his pupils contract sharply! Inside the cave, a dense white mist swirled like boiling water, rolling and surging violently. "My…" Chase took in a deep breath. He instantly recognized it—this was not an ordinary mist.

Chapter 10: The Crag and the Crow The invisible crag is a narrow slit in the rock face, hidden behind a thick stand of young pines whose needles brush the stone like soft fingers. Kael found it—said he used to play here when the world still had parents and warm suppers. The entrance is so tight we have to turn sideways to slip through; once inside, the space opens into a shallow cave, dry and sheltered, the ceiling low enough that even I have to duck. Moonlight filters through cracks high above, painting silver bars across the floor.

Two witches from the ember-ring. And me. We took the northern route, moving fast under a sky gone bone-white and windless. The trees had begun to wilt. Birds no longer sang. Even the soil smelled wrong—like ash soaked in rot. By dusk, we found the opening. A cave—small, split into the ridge itself. Runes carved along its mouth. Not Council. Older. “Veil-forged,” Lira murmured. “And poisoned.” We stepped inside. Inside the cave, the light dimmed fast. I summoned a soft flame—silver-blue, gentle, flickering like moonlight—and held it in my palm.

My vision was becoming darker than the night sky itself. Flickering my eyes open once more, I saw the ceiling and walls of a cave. It must have been one of those nestled within the jagged cliffs nearby. The entrance was a narrow, weathered arch, likely cut by centuries of relentless waves. The salty breeze whispered through the rocks, carrying the distant sound of crashing waves.

The northern ridge of the Silver Claw territory loomed under a bruised dusk, its granite cliffs jagged against a sky bleeding crimson and violet, the crescent moon a faint sickle swallowed by gathering clouds. The trail descended into a shadowed ravine, where the air grew heavy, thick with the scent of frost and iron, a metallic tang that clung to the throat like a warning. The path was treacherous, strewn with loose shale that crunched underfoot, glinting with icy flecks, flanked by towering pines whose boughs sagged, needles dusted with frost, exhaling sharp sap. Moss clung to the ravine’s walls, damp and glistening, its musky odor mingling with the faint rot of decayed leaves trapped in c