11 August 9:60 Dragon

She doesn't have much time left.

Never have I been more relieved to commit something so terrible to paper. Since I last wrote, the nightmares have gotten worse, and there is more evidence of the blight sickness in her. She has become little more than a husk of her former self. While some selfish part of me begs to have her stay, I can only endure so many more nights of her clinging to me in terror. She doesn't deserve this end. She certainly didn't ask for it; the young girl being dragged out of the tower still burns in my memory. But she has been strong, stronger than anyone else I could imagine in her position. If only I could be so strong for her.
This is the woman I have been with for the better part of twenty-five years. The woman I have loved my entire adult life. I feel like the last light in all of Thedas will soon be snuffed out, and only my duty will be there to replace it. A hollow comfort when I couldn't even protect her, much less a city recovering from rebellion.

I have offered to end it for her once or twice since the change began. It is the least I could do to offer her some peace, so that she may not die alone. She has refused every time, opting instead to be torn apart by the very monsters she's spent her life destroying. This is a mixed blessing. Being forced to kill her out of necessity has been a constant fear since her Harrowing. To have that finally come to fruition in the way I least expected would wound me just as surely as any other manner of death. The knowledge that I had a hand in it would be—difficult to describe.

No matter how many letters I receive from Sister Malorie, nothing seems to get better. The counsel she was able to give me so easily in years past is insufficient in the face of all this. I feel as if she knows this already, but she allows me to send her tear-soaked responses all the same. I have been grieving so long, I fear I will know no other emotion again. She tells me my mind will ease when my love has finally gone to the Maker's side, but it is difficult to imagine amidst all this darkness.

Despite all of the suffering we have endured these past months, I regret nothing of our life together. I spent five years after her departure convinced I would know nothing beyond my responsibilities as a Templar. That no semblance of a normal life would be afforded me, even as I passed on petitions of marriage to the grand cleric. As dangerous and as damning as it has been, our life together has far surpassed anything I could have hoped for. The luxury of sharing a bed is something so many take for granted. Being able to lay there with her as the nightmare passes—It doesn't make me happy, but I'm grateful to have had the opportunity at all.