Well this didn't happen the last time.
The Warden stared up at the sky and felt more than a little sick.
She'd been travelling toward the Anderfels, not sure where else she might find other Wardens; Wardens who could make sense of what she'd been feeling and seeing. She had stopped for the night in a small town where there had been whispers of some kind of conclave, up at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. She had smiled to herself, sitting in the corner of a tavern eating quietly and trying not to draw attention. So it had become a temple then, like Leliana had wished.
And then the noise. A horrible vibration that started in the head and traveled through the teeth right into the depths of the heart. People had run outside to see what had happened and she'd followed, automatically reaching for her staff.
But this was one enemy she couldn't fight. A hole in the sky, spitting angry lightning, the whirling spew-green of the fade.
She was still clutching her staff – rather uselessly – when someone nearby gave a shriek and pointed behind her. She spun, the spell for a fireball coming to the front of her mind as if it hadn't been years since she'd last cast one. But there was nothing at all alarming there. People who had been staring at the sky only a moment before were now staring at her.
"Get out of here!" A man shouted from the gathered crowd. "We don't want your kind here."
Again, she looked around her, but it was becoming increasingly clear that they were reacting to her presence. Was Ferelden still so against Grey Wardens? Even after they'd disproved Loghain's claims about their betrayal? How did they know she was a Warden?
The ring. Of course, the ring.
She held up her hand in a sign of surrender. "I mean you no harm. I'm just passing through."
Odd that the whole crowd could be that observant, as to notice the crest on a small ring. Not only odd, impossible.
"They did this," she heard a murmur in the gathered crowd. "It was them, the rebels. They tore the sky."
"I'll be taking my leave now then," she said, spooked more than she wanted to let on. She turned and hurried through a gap between people, back into the woods. She could still feel them staring after her.
Alarming. She hadn't encountered anything like that since she'd visited Haven all those years ago.
The woods were comforting in their familiarity. She'd spent so much time in the forests of Thedas she imagined she could write a book on them if she ever had a mind to. Usually travelling through the trees, collecting herbs and tracking animals eased her mind. Not today, not while that hole in the sky gaped over her.
Eventually the hum of voices through the trees came to her. Bandits? In general she'd steer clear of any group of people found out in the wilderness. Normal folk stuck to the roads, which left these deep parts for two types: robbers, or people who didn't want to be found. Neither appreciated her stumbling into their camps.
But now she had greater concerns. She crept nearer, listening closely. Even bandits might know more about what had happened to the sky than her. She sank into the shadows behind a bush, so she could just see them through the gaps between leaves.
A flash of armour.
Not bandits then, not that well outfitted.
Low voices, a shift of a shield, a flicker of an emblem.
Templars. Thank the Maker.
"Greetings." She rose from her hiding place slowly, trying not to startle them. Startled Templars were far more dangerous than bandits. There were three of them. One brawny with a thick neck and swarthy skin, one pale and tall and one, who seemed to be barely old enough to be a member of their order, with a darker complexion. Despite her efforts not to frighten them, all three spun and leveled shining weapons at her.
She held up her hands again, "I mean no harm. I only wished to ask –"
But the young one pointed. "Look, she has a staff!"
"Down on your knees," the brawny one said. "I'm only going to ask once."
Old fears surged to the surface. Her Harrowing, silver edges that would welcome the chance to cut. Sneered commands, panicked night searches for unruly classmates. She did as he asked without question. Too many years of conditioning for her to stand her ground now.
"Please, there's been some misunderstanding. I'm not an apostate. I'm a Circle Mage, I have papers."
One of them – she wasn't sure which – started laughing. Another yanked the staff from her back.
"I was a Circle Mage. I have permission-"
The press of Templar magic, cutting off her air so all she could do was stare down at the leafy ground.
"Where are your comrades?" a Templar asked and she thought it must have been the brawny one. He released his control on her long enough for her to take a breath to answer.
"I have no comrades. I'm travelling alone."
"A likely story," the tall one who had not spoken before said.
"Probably a trap," the young one surmised.
"I approached you." She insisted, "Why would I do that if I was an apostate?"
"Why did you approach us? What were you planning?" The tall one again.
"I wasn't planning anything. I wanted to know what's going on. With the sky."
Something struck her temple, the haft of a sword possibly. She cried out as stars exploded behind her eyes.
"You should know. You did this," the burly Templar said.
"I haven't done anything." She hated how pathetic she sounded. Look at Ferelden's hero now, on her knees in the dirt being shoved around by Templars.
"Your mage friends have, just like in Kirkwall. 'cept now it's not just a Chantry. That wasn't enough for you was it?" The weapon that had struck her temple collided with her rib cage, sending her down to the ground, and she realised he was hitting her with her own staff.
"Kirkwall?"
"Don't play stupid. Tell us where the rest of your group is, or we kill you right here."
"What?"
Another blow to her ribs, harder, hard enough to make her curl in on herself.
The tall Templar dropped to his haunches beside her. He touched her hair almost affectionately. "Or how about we don't kill you? There are other ways we can get our information."
A spark of light flew across her vision, hitting the man in the chest. He went sprawling, electricity chasing across his armour. Chain Lightning. The burly Templar gave a cry of surprise and when she looked at him she found him aflame, running towards the trees in terror.
She scrambled into a sitting position, head still spinning. The young Templar was holding up his shield, but there was now a mage opposite him. The mage cast a glyph at his feet, and then he exploded in flame. She shielded her face against the heat, and then someone was hauling her up by her arm.
"Come on, there will be more nearby," a voice said at her ear. Her staff was pressed into her hand, and she was pulled away from the remains of the Templars and into the trees.
Her saviour was an elf with dark hair and he darted ahead. She followed as best she could, the pain in her side a hindrance. Another mage, the one who had been casting the lightning, caught up. She was human and she slipped her arm around the warden's waist and helped her along.
They ran for some time, until the trees grew denser and pressed in, until she could no longer see the rift in the sky.
They came to a clearing where there were others – three or four. Too many questions, all at once. The one who'd cast the lightning helped her to sit on a log.
"You shouldn't have been out there alone," the man who'd saved her said.
"What in Andraste's name is going on?" she was panting, still struggling to breathe after the Templar's spell.
"We don't know," the man said, running a hand through his hair. It was greasy, they had the look of people who hadn't been anywhere near civilisation in a long time. "That's why we were scouting so close to their camp. We were hoping to overhear something. Any other day, you would have been on your own."
The lightning-caster passed her a canteen. "I'm Cassey. What's your name?"
She drank deeply, the water cool and fresh. "Solana."
It felt so strange to use a name again. It was alien, the vowels not fitting where they should. She wondered if she'd pronounced it right.
Then she wondered if she should have lied.
"Solana, I heard what you said to them. You said you've been travelling alone. Is that true?"
"Yes." More true than they could know.
"What happened to your cell?"
"My cell?"
"You're not supposed to travel alone. It's too dangerous."
It was only then that she noticed the robes that Cassey was wearing. The fabric was unfamiliar but the style was unmistakable. Circle.
"You're a Circle Mage?"
Cassey exchanged looks with the elf. He drew nearer, narrowing his eyes at her. "You really don't know what's going on?"
"The Circles fell, Solana. We're all apostates now," Cassey said. "Even them."
She looked at the others in the group for the first time. They'd fallen silent and were gathered nearby, listening. Three of them, each with the mark of the Chantry branded onto their foreheads. Tranquil mages, mages that couldn't possibly be a threat to anyone.
"Is this a Blight?" Solana asked. Why had she waited so long once she'd heard The Calling before seeking answers?
"Maker, I hope not," said the man, settling opposite her. "Although I don't remember a hole in the sky last time."
"If darkspawn aren't to blame, how did the Circles fall?"
Another mage stepped into the clearing, startling her. He was younger than the others, a human with curly brown hair. No branding. He was holding two dead nugs by the ears. "We didn't fall, we rose."
"That's a matter of some debate, Derrik," Cassey said.
He ignored her, speaking directly to Solana. "We decided we didn't like living under the Chantry's thumb. It started in Kirkwall. Mages rose up against the oppressors. Their passion spread like wildfire from Circle to Circle and now we're all free."
"Yes, free," said Cassey, voice dripping with sarcasm.
He continued to ignore her. "How is it that you, a mage, do not know this?"
"I've been alone a long time."
"Well, you're not alone now." Cassey offered a thin smile. "Welcome to the cause."
"Commander, there's something you need to see."
Cullen snapped the box shut and jerked upright. His men knew he'd been a Templar, there was nothing shameful about him examining the lyrium apparatus. Yet he felt dirty, he felt as if he'd been caught with his hand in the biscuit jar.
The young man with his head around the door was flushed and out of breath. If he'd noticed Cullen's startled reaction, it didn't show on his face.
"Report."
"It's uh…" the man swallowed. "It's best you see for yourself."
Cullen followed him from the Chantry. The hole in the sky seemed to have grown larger, but the man didn't spare it a glance.
It was only outside of town, down by the old fisherman's cottage, that Cullen saw what he was talking about. A bright green split in space itself, shining like the surface of the icy lake it hung over and crackling like a curse.
His heart beat faster. Some visceral part of him knew what he was seeing, even as his mind struggled to comprehend it. Perhaps he'd seen something similar in those dark days in the Ferelden Circle, the ones that he'd partly blanked out, that came to him only when he slept.
A cluster of his men was standing at the base of the thing, weapons drawn. He was opening his mouth to ask what it was when it contracted in on itself, becoming strangely crystalline. Then it shuddered. It spat forth darts of sickening green light, and from the light came the demons.
"Maker's toenails, what is that thing?"
Cassey was gripping her staff so tightly that her knuckles were white.
Derrik, who seemed to think himself leader of their group, had gone pale. He thought nothing of hunting Templars or catching nugs, but this had somehow him scared to silence.
Solana had been hearing nothing but his voice for the last few hours as they'd made their way through the woods. She'd longed for him to stop talking about the glory of mages and magic, but she hadn't asked for this.
The tear hung before them, blocking their path. She could see a twisted landscape on the other side and she didn't like what she saw. She'd spent far too much time there, chasing nightmares and rescuing possessed little boys.
"We need to run."
"What?" Derrik looked at her, eyes wide. He seemed even younger now, no more than a child.
"That's the Fade through there. Hole into the Fade means one thing."
"Demons?" Falin, the elf, asked. Although by his tone, it was more a statement. Solana nodded.
She expected Derrik to turn heel (or perhaps fall to his knees and lose the contents of his stomach). Instead, he lowered his staff and walked closer, as if entranced. Cassey called after him, but he seemed to not hear her.
"We could bind them… get them to fight with us." He raised a hand as if to touch the rift.
"Are you insane?" Cassey leapt forward, snatching his hand from the air.
A crack. A flash of light and Derrik was thrown high, screaming. Something had come through the rift, its dark shadow now where he had been. There was no sign of Cassey.
"Run!" Solana called to the tranquil. She didn't dare check over her shoulder to see if they'd obeyed.
The demon howled, stretching its malformed head to the sky. She knew its kind, but she couldn't remember its weaknesses. Once she had known them by heart, but now…
No time to debate. She cast a hasty barrier and called upon the elements.
This had been her favourite spell once, and it certainly looked impressive. The very air before her seemed to turn to flame. It roared with her power, whipping around the demon, wrapping it in a blinding cone of fire. The demon shrieked and its call was answered by another. It was no longer alone. Somewhere behind her, another monstrosity had been expelled from the Fade, but the blazing demon came at her. She couldn't fight them both.
lightning streaked passed her ear. Cassey alive and on her knees, casting at whatever was behind Solana.
And then Falin was at her shoulder, casting his own spells and glyphs.
Between the three of them, they managed to defeat the demons. Sweating, aching, Solana collapsed beside the prone Derrik. No breath, no heartbeat.
"At least he went quickly," Cassey said.
Falin drew her into a tight embrace and they held each other for a long moment before Solana suggested they should leave. There was no telling what the rift might send forth next, and she didn't wish to find out.
Cullen sheathed his sword and brushed the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Well this was… inconvenient. Deep breaths. Not what he needed right now. Another reason to go back to lyrium. Another reason to return to the leash.
"There are more of them, sir." One of the men said.
"What are they?"
"Rifts into the fade."
"I can tell that. I mean where did they come from? The conclave?"
"It would appear so." He turned to find Cassandra coming up behind them, swaggering slightly with the weight of her weapon. "Solas believes they're some kind of ripple effect. Whatever happened at the temple was powerful enough that it split the sky. He reckons that whatever power created the Breach –"
"And you trust this apostate?" Cullen met her gaze. He was used to people shying away from his glare, but Cassandra held it.
"I do. I told you. He approached us willingly, handing over his weapons without being asked..."
"Mages don't require weapons."
She cocked her head. "But this one may be our only hope for answers. The prisoner has woken. Solas believes he might be able to close these – things."
"Incoming!" The rift had contracted again.
Cullen pulled out his sword again. "Fine, you go get your prisoner. And sound the alarm. We need every able-bodied person out here fighting."
Maker help us.
"Where are we going?" Cassey asked.
They'd been walking for hours, running from that rift until their legs were numb and it was all they could do to put one foot in front of the other. Solana didn't know. She knew only that she needed to get away from the fade and death and demons.
"What happened to the Grey Wardens?" she asked.
"Which Grey Wardens?"
"Any of them. After Loghain was killed at the Landsmeet and the Blight was stopped, where did they go?"
Falin was a few feet behind them, keeping an eye on the tranquil. "It is intriguing how little you know about current events. I trust that at some stage you will offer us an explanation?"
She took a breath to respond, to explain again that she had been travelling across Thedas. But he was obviously not so curious as to press an answer immediately. He kept talking.
"In response to your question, when The Warden disappeared, the others of her order took refuge in the land bequeathed to her by the crown. They aimed to rebuild a presence in Ferelden, I believe."
"Aimed to?" Solana prompted.
"Their keep was overrun by darkspawn."
She stumbled and Cassey gave her a curious look. "Darkspawn? But the Blight was over!"
She'd failed in her duty. It should have been her, she should have killed the archdemon.
"Indeed. They fought off the threat, but without a base of operations, those who survived went North. We've never been particularly welcoming of their ilk, as you no doubt know."
"Why would you think I know?"
"No reason," he said with forced casualty. "It's just that I've noticed the ring you wear. Forgive me, I'm not usually one to pry, but you keep twisting it as if it is ill-fitting."
She was twisting it as he spoke and she dropped her hand, the sudden movement eliciting a giggle from Cassey.
"It doesn't mean what you think it does," she said quickly. "It is a Warden signet" – he had already seen as much, she knew from his line of questioning. "But it doesn't mean I'm a part of the order. The Wardens don't give rings to show allegiance, they give…" she trailed off. She was forbidden from speaking of it, of the vial she still wore around her neck, beneath her clothes. And if she did speak of it, the very knowledge would be incriminating. "It means I knew a Warden once. It's his ring I wear."
"Ah, and you're seeking this friend of yours?" Falin guessed.
"No."
The word was too short, too hard and too cold. She owed him more.
"No, he's not… he's with the Maker now. But I believe if anyone will be able to help us defeat these demons, it would be the Wardens. We should find them."