His vows were spoken at the Grand Cathedral of Val Royeaux. The Divine stood before the alter with the Knight-Divine, the First Enchanter of White Spire, and several Grand Clerics. The room was a mass of plate and steel; several hundred recruits about to take their vows into the Templar Order. Cullen closed his eyes and bowed his head as the Divine asked her audience to repeat the words he had spent the last month memorizing.

"Maker, my enemies are abundant. Many are those who rise up against me. But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion should they set themselves against me. Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder. Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's light, and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.

"Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against His children. There is but one truth: all things are known to the Maker, and He shall judge their lies. It is on this day that I vow to you dear Maker, I shall protect the innocent so that they need not fear harm by those who we've named Maleficar, accursed ones. I honor the teachings of your prophet Andraste, and swear to uphold the laws provided by the Chantry and the Divine Herself. Following the guidelines set within the Navarran Accord, I submit to the authority of the Chantry and join the Templar Order in your name."*

"So let it be," the Divine concluded. Cheers and handshakes filled the hall shortly after, and for the first time in his life Cullen felt like he had a purpose in this world. All of his hard work and training came down to this, and the feeling of belonging and brotherhood filled his chest with pride. When the Knight-Divine handed him his orders to Kinloch Hold, Cullen couldn't help the grin upon his face. Several of his friends were also assigned to the Ferelden Circle, and already plans began on which taverns to hit before reaching their destination.

Now he stood in Templar Hall, peering through the large building at the empty sky beyond. The tall towers of the Chantry used to be visible from where he was standing, and the thought gave him great pause. How he used to believe in the Chantry, its teachings and order. Now he didn't know what to believe or who to trust, not even himself.

If what she told him was true, Cullen had given his life to defending and believing in something that was as corrupt as the darkspawn he had fought. To think those in high command in Val Royeaux are aware, are capable, of doing such a thing to its followers, its faithful! Do the Grand Clerics know? The Knight-Vigilant or the Knight-Divine himself? Does the Divine even care of the consequences of such actions?

He had seen first hand what lyrium addiction has done to his fellow brothers and mentors. Greagoir once confided in him that the years of use were finally catching up to him. Bouts of disorientation, lost in memories and dreams even when awake, and the endless nightmares. The sicker he became, the more his paranoia worsened, and Cullen spent several nights convincing his knight-commander that there was no one out to murder him. It was for this reason alone that Cullen accompanied Greagoir to Denerim to aid Solona in defeating the darkspawn; allowing his mentor to die in battle rather than be sent off to Val Royeaux to die with the other aging templars who could no longer perform their duties.

Would he end up like that? A thought that had never occurred to Cullen before now. To think on ones own mortality was scary indeed, but remembering Greagoir's final days, or even Meredith...was he capable of such behavior? It would be out of his control, a side effect of years relying on the poisoned lyrium given to him by his own people, the ones he had vowed to honor, protect, and serve unconditionally. How much damage had already been done? Was it reversible?

Solona had the answers, yet he had left her alone in his room. He didn't want to hear any more that she had to say. Who was she anyway to come waltzing back into his life years later only to force him to question everything he had ever believed in? Why did she choose him? Why couldn't she have left him alone to live out his years believing what he had always believed. He was proud of what he did, believed in himself and the Maker that he followed. Now he was lost, torn apart inside with questions and doubt and hatred, all because she needed his protection.

These thoughts were unfair of him, he knew this. She wasn't simply there for protection or assistance. He knew the truth behind her words; she was afraid for him. Many of their past arguments always ended in him speaking of his vows, of his commitment to the Order and the Chantry. Both were the only reasons he had never been able to give himself completely to her. Oh how he wanted to, Maker knows the sins of his mind and the many ways he envisioned being with her. Now those reasons meant nothing. She had changed all that with a few words.

What was he supposed to do now? The Seekers were hunting her, and for good reason. Should news of her discovery spread beyond the two of them, the consequences would alter the very structure of life he had grown accustomed to, and all those who served the Order. If it was possible to perform their duties without the altered substance, why would the Chantry alter it? Was it even them? Perhaps the Divine is not aware, and it was done by someone in the Order? Where would they even begin to find these answers? Maker, there must be an explanation for all of this!

Someone had to have known. To kill Dagna for her discovery...she must have told the wrong person. The female dwarf from Ozammar that Solona brought to the Circle to study, murdered and then branded as a warning. He had seen Dagna often in the library pouring over books and reading everything she could get her hands on. Her excitement was infectious, and Cullen smiled briefly at the memory of her. Had anyone told her father he wondered? She had spoken of Janar and how he didn't support her leaving the underground city. What lies would the Order tell a man was the reason for his daughters death?

His thoughts were interrupted as his new knight-captain entered the hall with the recruit battalion. Cullen stepped aside and leaned into the wall as they marched in perfect sync filling the grand space. His eyes drifted to the faces of each young hopeful, a mirror into his past of a time when he felt quite the same. The company halted, turned left with precision, and stood at attention for the uniform inspection. Order, commitment, loyalty, words he had lived by for so long now shattered within himself, yet displayed before him. He exited the hall without any words of encouragement, for he had none left to give.

*My version of the templar vows taken from the Chant of Light and the Canticle of Transfigurations.