Authors Note: Hello and welcome to my second story. If your not already reading it, go check out Best Case Scenario, by me. To get a few things out of the way, this story picks up about two weeks after the Inquisition moves to Skyhold.
Chapter One: Evolution
Rage
Pain
Sadness
Hate
Despair
The voices circled him, taunting his already-broken soul.
"Monster."
"Beast."
"Destroyer."
"You will never find acceptance."
"You could have saved all of them if you had acted sooner."
"Give in, leave behind your weak flesh. Death is a release."
"Kill them all. They deserve to die. Embrace the monster you always were."
The cell within a dream suddenly quaked, ripples of emotion coming off the normally idle prisoner, who was coming to life once more. The figure turned his head, gazing at the shifting wraiths surrounding him.
"No." The refusal rocked the ether, rippling outward in a tidal wave of wrath. Not the Hatred that had tried to creep in. Nor the Rage that tried to burn life as fuel. It radiated outward in a storm of tranquil fury, directed and harnessed anger. The wave rippled over Rage, and it was consumed. The eddies swirled around Hatred, it broke apart and joined the wave. One by one the demons of the prisoner's own mind were eaten, broken down into simple fuel.
All at once, the flood reversed its momentum, flowing into the figure at the center of the maelstrom. Then he spoke, more to himself than anyone else, "Alright. Now, where the fuck am I?"
"Inquisitor, can I speak to you for a moment?" The red-haired spymaster approached the hulking Tal-Vashoth.
"Yes, of course. What is it, Leliana?" Khalona Adaar replied. She towered over her friend, broad shouldered and massive. Her body was that of a warrior, fitting her Reaver fighting style. The odd contrast was the surprisingly delicate features below her curving horns and ebony hair. The most interesting feature of the Inquisitor's face were her scarlet eyes. They shone out from the silvery brown skin of her face like polished rubies.
"We've had reports of a Venatori excavation in the ruins of Haven. They seem to have uncovered some form of ancient underground complex."
Even as Leliana finished speaking, the armored form of Cullen, the Inquisition's Commander, approached the two. "There is an envoy approaching Skyhold; they are flying no colors other than the white of parley."
"This cannot be a coincidence. We find out about a new enemy movement, and then we receive some sort of interference. If there is a Maker really watching over us, he must be Sera in disguise," Adaar snarked. "Alright, let's see what they want."
The trio left the main hall of Skyhold, descending the various staircases, past saluting soldiers and bowing staff. They reached the gates of the complex in a short time, where the gold cloth-clad Ambassador Josephine waited.
"Open the gates," Cullen called. "Stand ready in case this is a ruse."
"Of course, Ser," a soldier replied. The gates slowly creaked open, the porticulos rising to allow entry. The party that had approached the walls entered. Each was a dwarf, either clad in armor bearing magnificent arms, or dressed in robes.
"Which one of you is the Inquisitor?" the leader asked.
"I am," Adaar said, stepping forward. "Why are you here? And, whom do you represent?"
"I am Baric Aeducan, nephew of Bhelen Aeducan, king of Orzammar. We are here because we have reason to believe that the Venatori have uncovered an ancient vault. It appears to be located under the ruins of Haven, your previous headquarters."
"Yes, we know of this operation. But, tell me, why are you not flying your King's color?" queried Josephine, perplexed
"We believed the need for secrecy overroad any standard diplomacy. Our travels from Orzammar gained the attention of several groups," Baric replied.
"I see. Welcome to Skyhold; we can hold further discussions in the War Room." With that, the party proceeded indoors. The majority of the dwarves, being soldiers, went to the barracks designated for the guards of foreign guests.
"Forgive me, but who are these?" Cullen asked as they walked, motioning to the robed dwarves.
"Members of the Shaperate. They will bring the knowledge we have gathered about the vault." The young Aeducan turned away after answering, continuing up the steps to the main hall.
Pride
Despair
Desire
Cruelty
Madness
"You are strong, you can rule it all. Just let me in, I can help you."
"You will never be accepted, they will call you a monster."
"I know what you desire. I can make the pain go away."
"Come, give in. You wish to make them hurt. You can, make them suffer."
"Chaos is all, why care for anything. Sanity holds back your potential, let me in."
The Figure was different, larger now. The fangs of an ethereal predator, gorged on the sins of the world glinted in the unlight, revealed by his smile.
"̵̲̜͍̱͍͙̫̭N̶̤̘̫̪ơ̢̥̠͜.̶̘͔̀ͅ"̢͇̟̭̱̳ The same refusal, the same stoic denial of the lies that were their words. The voice was different now, sending a sense of dread into the unbodies of the demons. The voices quieted. Some backed away, having observed their weaker kin being destroyed. ""̀̀͟I͘ ҉wi̸̵̛l̴l͟ ͜n͢e͡͝v͞e̸r ̵̶s̛͡҉u͞b͢͝m͞i̷t̨̨,̵ ̸̵̡I͠ ̨w̶i̴͢l͏l ͜d̵̕è͡͝v̛͞o̵u̷r̶̛ ̴̕͠y̸̷̨o̸̢ur͜͞ l̀̀ie̢s͠.̡͞"̸̕͝
Pride was the first to fall, being, by its own nature, at the forefront. The figure lunged, scaling the titan's form until he reached the neck, and bit into it, consuming its ethereal form. By the time the others had moved, Pride was no more. Despair tried to flee, but was dragged down and sucked dry. Desire screamed in agony as it went numb, dragged into the void that was the figure. Cruelty tried to fight, lashing out with incorporeal whips of its own essence, only to be pulled forward by them and eaten. Madness simply looked on and laughed, its own self-destructive nature making it unable to intervene.
"So, Madness, ready for the end?" the figure's voice had changed, taking on a more human aspect. The figure stepped forward, squatting down to be level with the giggling form of the demon.
"Circles and loops, all going and going and going. Never stopping, eternal repeats. Why do you refuse the freedom I offer, a way out of this cycle? You are the same as us, why do you resist?"
The figure straightened, "Simple, as the ultimate badass once said, 'Because I'm Human, the real deal, right down to the fucking marrow of my bones.'"
Madness laughed at that, "No, no, no. Humans can only refuse, they cannot truly kill us. Humans are prey. You, you have left that behind. Now, you are the lie." The demon collapsed back into giggling even as the figure stiffened.
"I decide when I'm no longer human, you little shit. Now, I was going to eat you next, but I'm not hungry." The figure stroad off, back to the start of the dream, the next cycle, with one difference: a crack in the walls of the prison.
"Now that we're here, what can you tell me about this 'vault' that the Venatori are digging for, and why do you care? Last time I checked, the King wasn't concerned with them." The Inquisitor and her advisors looked expectantly at the dwarven entourage.
"I can answer your second question, seeing as it's a simpler one. We care because their interest in the red isana is concerning, and the fact that we've received reports that this 'Corypheus' is infact a darkspawn. It is scaring many of the deshyrs. Even if the Assembly is dissolved, they still have a bit of influence," Baric answered. "The Shapers can answer your other question." He motioned the robed dwarves forward.
They were lead by a stooped, old dwarf, with a snow white beard. "I am Salvic Bemot. I am the senior Shaper here, so I speak for my fellows."
"Nice to meet you. So, what can you share about this situation?" Adaar said.
"Two months ago, we of the Shaperate found records of an ancient route in the Deep Roads, that was said to lead to a vault named Amegtoll, or Duty in the ancient tongue. According to our records, as fragmented as they are, it houses something called the Isana Urtok."
"Correct if I'm wrong, but that would mean Lyrium Dragon in Common, yes?" asked Josephine, bringing her knowledge of foreign languages forth.
"To you, yes. But Isana is just the ancient name for lyrium. It doesn't directly mean lyrium. A better translation would be that it means magic, or spirit. Urtok, likewise, doesn't directly mean dragon, it means devourer." The other shapers nodded in agreement to their senior's words.
"So, since this situation is so urgent, we're going to go and stop a bunch of magic users from unleashing a weapon that eats magic? Varric is going to love this." The trio of advisors looked admonishingly at the Inquisitor, while Baric merely grinned.
"This weapon: could it kill Corypheus? He is a magister, so it stands to reason that this weapon would at least cripple, if not kill him," Cullen pointed out.
"We can certainly hope so," said Leliana. The others nodded in agreement.
"So it is settled. I'll take my inner circle to the ruins of Haven. Will you be joining us Baric?" Khalona asked.
"No, by order of my uncle, I am to remain in Skyhold, with your permission, as an ambassador from Orzammar."
"Ah, we shall have quarters prepared for you and your group immediately. Though, it will be difficult; repairs are still underway," Josephine said, looking slightly worried
"Worry not," Salvic spoke up. "We of the Shaperate will be leaving, along with half of the guards-those who wish to return to their homes the most."
"Very good, have your men rest for now, then. We will not rush you out the door." With that, the meeting concluded. The Shapers headed to the guest quarters, while Baric stayed behind at the request of the Commander and Inquisitor.
"You seem very familiar, like I've seen you before somewhere. Or, at least someone who looked like you," Cullen said, scrutinizing the dwarf before him.
"And, you called Bhelen your uncle, not father. As far as I know, Bhelen only has one sibling, and he has no children that we know of," the Inquisitor added.
"That is on purpose; my father is Duran Aeducan, the Hero of Ferelden. I was conceived before Father became a Warden. Then, when he helped Bhelen become king, my mother and I joined House Aeducan as a favor to him from Bhelen."
"Well, that's… certainly something. Don't tell Blackwall, he might never let you get away. He worships your father," Adaar smirked as she spoke. They parted ways, Baric going to his quarters to rest, Cullen to prepare troops to march on Haven, and the Inquisitor to play Wicked Grace with Varric.
The pawn moved, and a knight countered. A bishop taking a rook, and in turn being taken by the queen. The pieces moved across the board in dizzying patterns, mirroring the thousands of games played in the timeless space. Move and countermove, cycling around in a dizzying spiral of skill and purpose. Command and countermand, both combatants imbuing the pieces with their will, trying to force the conflict in their favor.
"͕̤͈̝͚͓͕̺͇C̛̛̲̗̯̼̕h̷̩̤̻̟͉̹͠e̡͚͍̭͘c̳͙͙̦͝k̞̝̗m̵̘͓͙̫̗̮̫͢͝a̹̮̙̝t͏̳̞e̼̝̬̝͡,̸͔̰̘̖̥̥̞͖"̮̯̟̱̯̟̼̜͟ he said, looking at Strategy. A smirk lifted his features, his voice losing its unsettling tones. "Thank you for teaching me, even if it took me a thousand loops."
"The spirit merely stared at the board, trying to comprehend how it had been beaten. It was the embodiment of tactical acumen and strategic foresight. "How did you do this, Devourer?"
The figure's face tightened, showing his distaste for the name the denizens of the Fade had given him. "Simple. I watched, I waited, I memorized your patterns, and then I executed a plan of attack. Simple Bossfight strategy." He rose from his seat, the table and game fading into wisps of smoke. The cracks in the walls of his prison had widened, allowing not only demons in, but spirits as well. One such spirit had told him of the rifts and the Breach, and how it had been closed. "You need to leave, Strategy, lest you get caught in the loop."
The Spirit nodded in agreement, fading into a glowing wisp small enough to slip through the cracks. The figure shrugged, and placed a hand on the wall, then drew back, waiting for the force that dominated his prison to start the cycle over again. Instead, his warden appeared, a black shrouded figure, similar to Despair, only nearly mythic in strength. The figure was to Despair as Nightmare is to a normal fear demon.
Anguish
"You can't escape, you belong to me. Give in, pet. I can make the pain go away," it crooned it that cold voice. Like ice water, it flowed over him, sapping his will.
"No." The same refusal, used for countless loops. But, one thing changed. He followed up, his voice changing. "Į̶͟ ͜am̶̢ n̨͜ot͏͘ ̢́̕y̧͘͘ò̢͜u͏r̨ ͟͟p̨̛ȩ͏́t̛.̕͢͝ ̵͠҉I̶͜ ̧w̨̧i̷͞l̵͞l͢ ̶͢NEV͠ER̵͜͜,͡ ̛͢s̡ư͝b̸̧m̶̴it̛ ̀t̷̨ǫ̕ ̡̀y̨͡͞o̕u͜.̴ ̢͢I̧ ̵͜w͡i͘͠l̷̷l̵̕͞ ̕d͜͝e̶v̸͞ou͜͠r̷ ̶y͏̴o̕͠u͏,̨͠ ͞b̧҉e̶͞ i͟t̸̶͡ ̴n̕͘ow͞,͜ ̶o͠r̶̛ ̧͠i̧͠ņ an͏́̕ot҉h͏̡ȩr ͡͞͡t̡h̢o̷us͟a̡n͟͢d̀́ l̨͞o̸ops̀҉.̸"
With that, he charged. The ether twisted around him as lightning and shadow suffused his body. Anguish screamed as he tore into its form, teeth sinking into its not-flesh, drinking its essence. He tore free in a shower of ghostly gore. He landed on the ground, even as Anguish began to break apart.
"Huh, I guess either I have become OP, or I have attained plot armor. Neat." He turned to the walls. His prison had already started to disintegrate, offering freedom. He sat down, gazing across the unsky.
"Guess it's time to get out, or wake up. Whatever the case may be. Look out Inquisition, the Fade Eater is here."
Fen'Harel watched the newly freed being with interest, though it was wary interest. He did not know what had gone on in the sealed of section of the fade, only that the master was now dead. He wondered if it would affect his plans, but quickly discarded the idea. He prepared to return to his physical form, ready to reassume the guise that was Solas. It was at that moment he noticed something. The figure was pointing at him. This was no casual indication of attention. It screamed 'I see you.' Unsettled, he left the fade.
Closing Notes: There you have it, the beginning. More to come, I will try to have a more stable update scedule.