May the Maker Watch Over You

Chapter 7

A/N: apologize for the delay in this chapter. Life has been a whirlwind on all ends. Taking tests for my teaching license, turning in a portfolio and preparing for my Graduate comps has taken its toll on me. Not to mention the discouragement after hearing the news that my husband's position was being cut for the next year, so I have been furiously applying for jobs for myself and him in three different states.

I want to thank you for the continued support of this story. As I mentioned before, it was originally just a what-if one-shot. I didn't imagine writing more about this elven warden.

I could use your help though. As I progress through this story, I would love to hear your opinions. I have a poll on my page concerning the Inquisitor romance. If you could take time to let me know by voting or leaving me something in the comments, I would appreciate it!

Inspiration: Latin, natural medicines, Dragon Age II Legacy DLC, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Dragon Age but to Bioware.


Maker, she hated the smell of healing potions. It burned her nostrils, reeking of earthly smells and tingling magic. Evelyn groaned, lowering her head onto the table. She felt as if she would vomit any moment. "Dorian, please go easy on the stuff. You know how much I hate the odor."

"My dear Inquisitor, if you weren't so bold in your actions hacking at everything standing, you wouldn't have to be in this mess," Dorian countered over her shoulder. The cut was deep, carving her lower back. "Just hold still for a moment and it will be over before you know it."

The Inquisitor breathed slowly through her mouth. "I should have searched for spirit healers. At least then I wouldn't have to endure this."

The mage chuckled. "Oh Eveline, if this bothers you, then you really don't want their stuff. It smells atrocious and even includes burning and itchy skin for days," he replied, shuffling in his leather boots. "There, I think that will be it."

The noblewoman lowered her thin tunic, looking up at her friend with a smile. "Thank you, Dorian. What would I do without you?"

"Apparently bleed out. Do be sure not to forget about me when you decide to go hack more red templars. I'd hate to see you lose your head," Dorian said, smirking as he left the small tent.

Evelyn sighed, leaning against her hand propped on the table. Fighting through the quarry had been extraneous in the night. Although she trusted her team and their capabilities, she knew the endless days of battle were wearing them thin. She was tired, ready to collapse for a few weeks. There was only so much a woman could do.

But she was more than just a woman to these people. She was the Herald of Andraste and the leader of the Inquisition. She was their hero in their darkest hour, staring down the magister and the dark dragon in Haven. She would never be just a woman again.

Grabbing her leather coat, she shrugged it on her shoulder, tensing as the fabric rubbed against her wound. It would take time to heal. Unfortunately she didn't have the time necessary to rest and allow her body to heal from the ailments that bothered her. Opening the tent flap, she squinted at the morning light, overcasted by the winter clouds. Fresh snow covered the ground.

Already, scouts were moving towards her, handing her reports, concerns, and letters from Skyhold. Evelyn took them, greeting each with the etiquette taught to her as a child. I am Lady Eveline Trevelyan, heir to House Trevelyan, she thought to herself.

"The Corps of Engineers have arrive and will begin preparations on restoring Judicael's Crossing."

"Excellent," the Inquisitor stated, scanning the camp. "Show them the area. If there is anything they need refer them to Commander Cullen. He has better knowledge on these matters."

"Yes Ser," the scout answered, saluting and walking away.

"You know, the great thing about dead magisters coming back to life causing havoc is how it brings people together," a sarcastic voice commented behind her shoulder.

She turned, grinning at Warden Alistair. He was a head taller than her, blonde hair glistening in the morning light. His arms were crossed across his chest, the warden armor replaced with heavy leathers sword hanging loose against his hip. The brunette smiled, swaying her hips as she moved to stand in front of him. "You, Warden Alistair, are a strange man."

He chuckled lips twitching into a smile. "You're not the first woman to tell me that," he replied. "Ash was great to remind me whenever she could."

Sadness crept into the warden's blue eyes. She rested her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly. "Once the storm has passed, we will go to Suledin Keep. Its too dangerous right now to storm in."

"No, I agree with you. We can't take risks like that," Alistair agreed, blue eyes hardening. "I just...as soon as its clear Inquisitor, I'd like to start moving. It seems I'm not the only one. Cullen has been pacing the tents, making sure every preparation is ready for our trek when the time comes."

Evelyn chewed on her lower lip, nodding. Cullen had informed her of his withdrawal from lyrium. She had also knew of his nightmares, often waking the men in the barracks from his shouts. Since they had arrived, she noticed his hands shaking, his eyes dark and troubled. She was concern for the commander, sending silent prayers to strengthen in, to help him endure this battle.

"You know, I know you're this high and mighty Inquisitor and the Herald of Andraste, but I really don't know anything else about you. Where are you from?'

Startled she looked up from her thoughts, blinking at the warden. His eyes were on her, studying her. Coughing, she lowered her head, hoping that the blush on her cheeks looked like from the cold breeze than her embarrassment. "I'm the youngest of House Trevelyan in Ostwick."

"Oh, that explains the accent," Alistair mused. "Your a noble from the Free Marches. I've been to Ostwick before on some Grey Warden business."

Smiling she nodded. "Grey Warden business? When?"

"Years ago, before Kirkwall blew up," he brushed off nonchalantly. "It wasn't anything exciting. Barricading some of the deep roads, fighting darkspawn, the works."

"Ahhh," she mumbled. "I miss it. The warm breeze, the taste of salt in the air, the sound of crashing waves. I've enjoyed my visits to Ferelden and Orlais, but they are so different from home."

Alistair nodded. "Ferelden was always my home. I was raised in Redcliff before...well, before everything," he added, drifting off in his own thoughts. He looked around the camp, his gaze lingering on the red stalactites of lyrium. "The lyrium disturbs me more than the templars. The way it's growing, it makes me fear for Ash. It reminds me of the Warden prison she visited in the Vinmark Mountains. It was the same place Hawke went and killed Corypheus. She snuck out of Amaranthine to investigate the ruins herself."

Evelyn raised her eyebrows, intrigued. "The Hero of Ferelden adventures outside of Ferelden without anyone knowing? That's unheard of."

"Ash has always been light on her feet. I didn't go with her that time, which probably helped her escape Amaranthine without notice. I wish I had gone with her though. She was haunted when she returned two months later, her dreams darker than normal. She didn't sleep nor eat. She just worked, traveling all of Ferelden recruiting and praying in the Chantry of Our Lady Redeemer. All she told me was that 'we had to be prepared,'" Alistair explained. "Oghren told me a little more of the story. No body, no ashes, but the magic was still strong in the fortress. He and a few men had went deeper into the fortress, fighting back darkspawn when he found it. Red lyrium underneath the prison...it was the first time I started making a connect with red lyrium and the blight."

"Unfortunately they weren't able to do anything about it. Warden-Commander Clarel had came. She decided that when Hawke killed Corypheus, the matter was resolved. The magic still lingering in the air was all that remained. Ashiva argued with her. Archdemons don't die from simple injury afterall. She feared that Corypheus might have the same power. The argument became...heated and Ash and her men were ordered to leave the premises."

"That's when you started investigating. When Warden-Commander Ashiva returned," Eliana mused, remembering the conversation they had in the abandoned caverns outside of Crestwood.

"With the whole sensing darkspawn, I can also usually sense other Grey Wardens nearby. For some reason though, I can't sense her. The corrupted lyrium is disrupting it."

She didn't understand the Grey Warden sense. Blackwall had never mentioned this ability, yet Alistair spoke of it often. They knew when darkspawn or other wardens were nearby from something inside them. It made her curious. If he had this ability, why did the red lyrium interrupt it?

She hesitated opening the wooden door. Would it be another vision? Someone from her past? She clutched the brass handle tightly, her knuckles turning white.

Ashiva looked over her shoulder towards the armored spirit. Seeing Justice again gave her mixed emotions. She was relieved to see an old friend and for the assistance it was willing to give. On the other hand, she was weary of it being the spirit she befriended. She had already encountered many friends both alive and deceased that were only figments of Envy's deceit. Was Justice another pawn to know her?

When Anders was reported dead, little was known on the spirit's whereabouts. Had it died with Anders or been freed to roam the Fade again?

Gathering the last of her willpower she opened the door. The Hall of Regrets remained the same. Rows of cells filled with people from her past. Taking a deep breath, she looked ahead into the darkness highlighted by green lights.

"So we just need to go forward and that will weaken the demon," she asked, grabbing the torch near the door.

Justice nodded, pointing into the darkness. "The demon cannot keep creating new faces without its power weakening."

Ashiva took a step and grimaced. Her physical body was weakening, reflecting through her dreams in the Fade. She did not know how long she would be able to continue this charade without her losing to her body or her mind. Would she be able to reclaim who she was before the demon possessed her image and took everything she had worked for? Leaning against the metal bars of a cell, she gasped for breath. "I hope we can find a staff soon. I don't know how much longer I can walk without assistance."

"We can't delay then," the spirit concluded, moving to take the lead, the mage stumbling behind.

The warden and spirit walk in silence through the long corridor. Ashiva pushed her mind away from what she sees. She sees young Conner, tightly holding the iron bars with his tiny hands. He was too young...too young to die. But he did, by her hand ten years ago. All he ever wanted was to save his father.

She stops at the tiny cell. How old would the boy be if he were alive now? What would he be doing? Would he be a strong mage, protecting Ferelden?

"Stop," commanded Justice, grabbing her arm. "You are only giving the demon more knowledge to feed on."

"But these people," she whispered. "They can't remain here."

"Commander, they aren't real. This is your mind. You are the one in control."

If she were in control, why did she feel as if everything was falling apart around her? "But Envy-"

The armored warrior, grabbed her shoulders, making her look up at the helmet. "Yes, Envy is inside of your mind and is making you shift through your mind, but it is still your mind. It was you who called for me. I came because you called. Not Envy."

"I...called," she thought aloud, flustered. She couldn't remember calling for anything-most importantly Justice. This wasn't the first time she had forgotten something. As she walked through the Fade, she had forgotten where she was going, even who she was. Why couldn't she remember? "I don't...why can't I remember?"

"I'm...unsure Commander," the Spirit of Justice confessed, letting her go. "I think it has something to do with your body. When I'm near you, it feels familiar….like home, but corrupted...red and not blue."

"Red...not blue," she spoke softly, her memory flashing to glowing red stalactites. She couldn't place where she had seen the vision before, but it made her tense her shoulders, strain her eyes and made her back of her head and neck ache.

She looked in the cell again. The boy was as young as she remembered, ash blonde hair, clothes covered in dirt, as if he had been playing with the other children in Redcliff. He looked at her, eyes filled with curiosity, seeing something new.

"Have you come to kill me? The scary lady...she said you would," he asked, tilting his head to the side.

Ashiva frowned. She remembered this conversation, kneeling next to the young boy. He had looked scared, frightened of what had happened and what he knew was to come. She tried to make her face comforting, smiling at the child. "The scary lady, do you know what she is Connor?"

"She's a bad person. I heard her in my dreams. She was everywhere," he answered, lowering his gaze. "Like the bad person that is wandering in your dreams."

The mage opened her mouth, startled by the child's words. The demon in her dreams? Connor knew of Envy. "Connor, she's not a lady. She's a demon...and the people in my dreams...they're part of my demon's plan."

"Sometimes she's nice...but other times she's mean," he added, a sad smile on his face. "But your demon isn't ever nice. Always taking, and taking more. It never lets your dream good dreams. It only wants to hurt you, weaken you, and take everything you are for itself."

She gasped, stepping away from the cell. Connor's eyes glinted with purple light. Biting her lip, she looked around, spotting an unlit brazier. "I'm sorry Connor, but our time is coming to an end."

"You're going to kill me now. What happens? I'm afraid...I don't know," he mumbled.

She shushed him, moving closer. "I'm unsure what happens when you die, but I have heard stories. The Dalish Elves believe that you take a great journey into the Beyond, but the Chantry says we return to the Maker. Either way, you are at peace."

"What do you believe," he asked.

She lowered her eyebrows in consideration. For years she had debated with her beliefs. She struggled with how the Maker could allow so much tragedy to happen to his creation. Why were they punished for the mistakes of magisteres centuries ago?Why hadn't He interfered yet, taken control and brought order into a chaotic world? Why was she as a mage so wretched in the sight of the Maker when He created her this way?

Ashiva relied on the people close to her to make these decisions. Leliana was strong in her faith and often brought clarity to her questions. Cullen was devoted, praying every morning and night. Even with her uncertainty, he remained faithful to the Chantry. She admired him for it. Then there were those she encountered that had other beliefs entirely. Velanna, a Dalish Elf, taught her about the Elven gods. They would often sit in the courtyard near the oak tree talking about the old ways. Although she did not grow with the Dalish, Velanna treated her like one, telling her old tales from her clan. And then there was Sigrun and Oghren, who were raised to believe in The Stone and that they would return to the Stone one day. Although the two dwarfs rarely spoke of their past heritage, Ashiva had uncovered many codex describing the beliefs.

"I think that wherever it is you go, you will be at peace. There will be no more pain or suffering. There will always be light, and it won't be cold. You won't ever have to be frightened again," she said, lighting the brazier. The fire glowed green, magic embedded into it.

She looked back into the cell, startled that the boy was gone, replaced with a wooden staff. She could hear children laughing, playing games in the distance. She smiled. Connor was finally at peace. She reached for the staff, sighing in relief has she put her weight on the weapon. Looking at her torch, she finally believed she would be able to get out of this place. "Alright Justice, lets move on."

The wind howled, snow swirling around them as they marched. The snow had stopped by the fog gave them an opportunity for cover. They traveled on foot as a small unit toward the elven keep.

Evelyn moved ahead, leading the group through the snow drifts. She wrapped the leather jacket around her tightly, her limbs chilled from the freezing weather. She would love to be huddled in her tent with hot cider, but she made a promise to search the keep. A Trevelyan always kept their promises, even if they did freeze.

She caught a quick glance behind her, her companions struggling in the snow. Alistair was right behind her, squinting as he followed her. Dorian was next, using his magic to thaw the snow in their tracks. She knew Varric had to be relieved that he wouldn't have to push through the snow. Evelyn remembered their trek through the Frostback Mountains, the snow was over the dwarf's head. The storyteller paced himself in the middle of the group near Cullen, Bianca carefully placed on his back. He seemed to be distracting the Commander from his troubling thoughts.

Solas walked alone, taking in the details of the ruins of their surroundings. She knew the elves had once lived in this wintery place but were uprooted by the Orlesians. The Inquisitor wondered if the elf had visited the fade yet to see the old memories. She would have to ask him later when they were back in Skyhold. After Solas, Blackwall, Cole and Iron Bull stayed in the back with the other soldiers, guarding their flank.

Evelyn knew she needed to have a plan, but so many people under her lead intimidated her. She was use to her small party, each with their own abilities contributing in a battle. She rarely gave out an order unless it was necessary. Although she was concern for the ex-templar, she was relieved Cullen was with her. He would be able to assist in making a sound strategy against the red templars.

She heard fighting up ahead. Unsheathing her sword, she raised it high before charging into battle. Cole raced past her in a blur, his daggers rapidly attacking an archer ahead of their group. She admired the speed and precision the boy had with his blades. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest, piercing the red templar in the heart before he could warn his companions. Her shield clashed with a sword before she could reclaim her weapon. An arrow wiped past her ear, hitting its target in the eye. Evelyn grimaced, watching the man crumble to the ground.

The scrimmage was over soon after. None of her men were badly wounded, searching the bodies for information. She was startled to see the blonde hair chevalier from outside Sahrnia. Stepping forward, she greeting the warrior with a nod. "Michel de Chevin, I didn't expect to see you here."

"Bad news Herald," Michel greeted, frowning. "Your efforts to drive the red templars away have not gone unnoticed."

Evelyn smiled sheepishly. "I wasn't necessarily quiet in my efforts. I'm disappointed that the welcome committee wasn't bigger."

The chevalier chuckled. "Yes, as am I. The villagers are relieved to see their loved ones alive and well. They sent their regards," he stated. "Unfortunately, Ishmael knows we're here. He sent red templars after me and a pack of shades are now heading to Sahrnia. The people are defenseless. I must return without delay."

"You won't go alone," she countered. "Solas, Iron Bull and Varric, go with Michel de Chevin. Keep the people safe. We'll take care of the mess here."

The three left, following the warrior down the large hill. She bite her lip, look forward at the large stone keep. She heard Dorian swear behind her. Evelyn knew the keep was large, but she didn't think it would be near the size of Skyhold. Why hadn't people used this position before?

Farther into the keep, crimson red tents contrasted the pearly white snow. The camp was vacant, traces of footprints hidden by the snow. Investigating further, Evelyn came across a small missive.

We must carefully control exposure to red lyrium. The last one entered a savage frenzy from the lyrium; we had to put it down. Once the red lyrium takes hold, their strength increases, as we expected, but it makes them even more difficult to leash.

A chill ran down her spine, her breath catching. Whatever the templars had been doing hear, it wasn't good. She handed the letter to Cullen, her face hardening into a scowl. "Be on alert. They're doing tests on something big. I'm not getting a good feeling about this."

Cullen clenched the paper tightly in his hand. "No, this isn't good," he muttered, glancing at Ser Desjardins and the four remaining Inquisition soldiers. "Archers, be on alert. I want you ready if something happens."

Dorian grinned, leaning against his staff nonchalantly. "Mountains and snow. Must you think "Let's bring Dorian," all the time Trevelyan?"

"I thought you would enjoy some adventure. Camp can be so dull," replied the Herald, relieved for the light banter. Suledin Keep was not what she expected. The wind whipped around them, howling and whispering. Everything told her to burn the place, leaving it only in ashes. The places was tainted.

Taking a deep breath, she took her first step, then another. She had to lead. She had to be strong, and confident. With her sword in hand, she signaled to continue moving through the keep.


The more she walked, the colder she felt. The chill in the dungeons was unbearable. Ashiva wished she had worn warmer clothes than the thin velveteen tunic and ram leather hosen. A warm snoufleur cloak would have done wonders to her chilled body. The elf walked behind the Spirit of Justice, leaning heavily on the staff she had found with Connor.

She encountered many people from her past has she trekked through the corridors. Although wounded, she was relieved and walked with less a burden. She was able to help them, give them peace as they crossed to the unknown. Or perhaps it was just peace she was giving herself. The worries, doubts, and burdens she held for decades was slowly lifting from her shoulders. She could move on. She could forgive herself.

The cells were filthier here, blood stained stones guided her through the maze. The smell was near unbearable. Ashiva opened the door to the next hallway, only to be startled by the scene before her.

Light was flickering off the cobblestone pillars from the many candles that were scattered around the larger room. Wooden beams were overhead. The floor was paved in grey stones, red carpets scattered around. Her breath puffed around her face as she exhaled, the winds howling outside the large wooden doors. Deja vu settled over her. She knew this place, been there before. It was the same, with slight differences.

Her reflection knelt in the middle of the sanctuary, arms upraised, praising the figure in front of her. The figure was hidden in shadow, unrecognizable, but she could feel her gut twist as if a knife had cut into her. This wasn't right.

The arrow whipped past her, piercing her doppelganger. Ashiva cried out, clutching her chest, near her heart. It was becoming a struggle to breath.

"Commander, we need to keep moving," Justice stated, moving forward in the room.

The elf couldn't move. She stared helplessly at her image, crumbling to the ground, her tainted blood staining the red carpets around her. She remembered this place. Haven. This was Haven. Why would the demon bring her here?

"Betrayed allies will curse your name," the demon whispered. "You will bring blood and ruin and fear."

"How can you just makes these decisions," Alistair shouted behind her. "All of this death...its on your hands."

"Did you think you would be able to hide what you did from the rest of us," Wynne questioned, stepping beside the warden. "You care so little about your fellow man, that you would destroy the little hope they have."

Ashiva stepped back, startled by their presence. "I don't understand…"

"You destroyed the Grey Wardens, twisting them into abominations," Alistair shouted, gripping his sword tightly. "This isn't what Duncan or Riordan wanted. I should have lead the Wardens, not you."

"Ferelden is in ruins after the death of our queen. You believe your authority would bring peace to our nation? The people hide in fear of your wrath," Wynne added.

It happened all too soon. Ashiva raised her staff, blocking the blade's path towards her. She sidestepped the arcane bolt, moving quickly away from the two. Although she stumbled through the fade with a staff, it was useless in battle. Her magic was gone, as if she was never a mage. She raised her voice, alerting her comrade of the enemy behind them as she avoided Alistair's blade and Wynne's magic.

Justice's sword clashed with Alistair's, sparks of light flying. "Commander, go! You have to keep moving. Its the only way out."

The elven woman moved as fast as her legs would take her through the chantry. The dog statues above the pillars began to erupt around her, green liquid spewing from their mouths. Splatters fell on her skin, burning her. There was no where to go.

"Over here."

She turned abruptly, falling into an open doorway. Breathing heavily, her eyes fell on the cage where Cullen stood, his eyes void of any emotion.

"I should have never trusted you," he hissed. "How could I be so naive...I forgot how a mage isn't like the rest of us."

The words cut easily. "Cullen would never say things like that."

"Are you so sure," he raised his eyebrow, amused. "For year he didn't trust mages, displeased nearly everyone that could wield magic. What makes you so sure he still doesn't."

Cullen smirked. "You're nothing but the toy."

"You're hurting, helpless, hasty. What happens to the hammer when there are no nails?"

Snarling, the templar raised his blade. "Quiet. I am learning."

She rolled away from the attack, pushing herself up with the assistance of the wall. The voice was distant, echoing off the walls. It sounded familiar, yet strange. "Justice?"

"No," the voice answered quietly. "I can help. Keep fighting."

She scoffed, sidestepping another attack. The blade brushed her shoulder, pain cutting through her. "Fight? How? I have no magic, nor a blade. I can't keep dodging these attacks with the condition I'm in."

The voice didn't reply, unsettling her. She rushed from the room, avoiding her lover's constant attacks. She could still hear the battle raging on between Justice and Alistair and Wynne. Looking up down the hallway towards the staircase, she saw more figures running, weapons raised. There was no way she was going to get out of here alive.

"Here," the voice stated, a hand extended towards her.

It was a young man, no older than twenty wearing a large hat and leathers. His pale hair covered his eyes, obscuring the light color. He held a dagger in his left hand, watching the enemies come closer wearily.

Mystified, she took the vial in his hand, startled to see the glowing blue liquid. Lyrium. "How...how did you get this?"

"I can to help," the boy repeated. "Hurry. Drink."

"But the veil-my connection to the Fade is gone," Ashiva replied.

The mysterious rogue shook his head. "Think of light."

There was something off about this kid. Almost similar to the dwarf she befriended during the blight, Sandal. The rogue rushed in to the right, deflecting the blow from Cullen. To the left, she saw Justice knocked backward by Alistar's shield. She hated being helpless, like the damsels in the fairytales she read as a child. She was the Commander of the Grey, dammit.

She blinked uncomfortable, looking up at the orb on top of the staff in her left hand. Instead of the bleak wood laying dormant, it blazed with blue fire. She gasped, looking down at her right hand, now holding the glowing sword made out of magic. Her mana had returned.

Closing her eyes, she imagined the battlefield around her. For the past decade she was use to being in the frontlines, parrying and blocking the slashes and attacks of her foes. She grasped the thread of magic she sought, humming the pitch she heard ringing in her ears. "Accendo," she whispered, her staff pointing toward the impersonators. "Mundabunt terram."

The swirling column of fire quenched the ground, the doppelgangers of Alistair and Wynne disappearing in the inferno. With a quick flick of her wrist, Cullen was frozen in place, a prison of white light surrounding him.

"Commander, we need to keep moving forward. Its not much farther," Justice shouted, moving past her.

She looked around, alarmed that the boy was no longer there. "Wait. What about the boy?"

The spirit looked agitated, pausing in its movements. "What boy? There is no time, Warden commander. Envy has weakened. I sense the mortal realm not far."

Ashiva pushed forward at those words. There was a chance she would escape her own nightmare. She could return home. She rushed through the corridor, pushing enemies back with her mind blast. Her magic was growing more and more, the magic slowly cleansing her broken body.

She hesitated at the sight of the wooden door with iron accents. It remained shut, the sounds of battle behind her. The mage brushed her hand along the wooden grains. How had she gotten to the top of Fort Drakon. She could imagine the heat emitting from the surface, the screams of the archdemon piercing her sensitive ears. She closed her eyes, calming herself. This was it. Opening the door would give her the freedom she sought from this nightmare. Yelping in surprise, Ashiva is thrown against the door, her face pressed against the door.

"Unfair! Unfair! That thing kept you whole. Kept you from giving me everything," Shouted the demon mimicking her voice as it pressed her against the wooden surface.

"What could you gain from being me?

"What could you gain?...What...ugh," It mumbled, as if thinking aloud brushing the hair from her forehead. Her head felt as if it were on fire, slowly being erased. "We'll start again. You continue to weaken each time. That's good. More pain this time. The Elder One still comes."

She heard a large shout before she crumbled to the ground, a large clash of metal against metal. The elf opened her eyes, startled to see herself on the ground, blocking attacks from Justice. Her doppelganger screamed, scratching at the helmet.

"Commander, you need to go now," Justice shouted, punching the demon.

Ashiva struggled to sit up, leaning heavily against the door. "What about you? What will happen to you?"

"In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death…"

"Sacrifice," she gasped, tilting her head to the side. The boy from earlier sat next to her, his eyes hidden behind the large hat. "Justice can't."

"The spirit admires you. Your strength and kindness. He seeks only to help you in your time of need," the boy answered, standing up. He pushed the door slightly, lighting beaming from the crack. "Its time to return, Commander."

She watched the battle between the spirit and the demon. Her friend was fighting for her, protecting her from the madness she had been in for so long. Taking a deep breath, she struggled to stand, taking in her surrounding once more. "And should you perish my brother, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and one day, we shall join you."

Ashiva turned, pushed the door open with all her might, the light beyond brighter than the sun. She pushed forward, not turning back.


A/N: Latin translation from Google Translate.

Accendo: "inflame, kindle, light, ignite, fire, set on fire"

Mundabunt terram: "cleanse the earth"