Commander,

With the Inquisitor's help, my unit successfully took Griffin Wing Keep from the Venatori. The place is run down. It's hard to imagine a time when it was a well-fortified base of the Grey Wardens. Still, it has walls that stand between us and the criminals littering the sands. It will serve well enough as our base of operations in the Western Approach.

Send ale.

Knight-Captain Rylen

Commander Cullen,

I need my army.

The Wardens and Venatori have joined forces and are holed up in a Warden stronghold called Adamant Fortress. Taking Griffin Wing Keep was like kicking over a sandcastle compared to what I expect to face there.

We got this lead from Venatori magister Livius Erimond. My party found him in a tower out in the middle of nowhere, because, for some reason, the Venatori have THREE bases in this Maker-forsaken desert. The Wardens seem to be taking orders from him, and those orders are grim.

Cullen, they're killing their own men. They're using blood magic to bind demons into fighting for them. I would love to be able to tell you that the Wardens are possessed, but they seem to be acting of their own wills. Still, there is more to this arrangement that we have yet to discover. Corypheus is responsible for this. That idiot Erimond let that detail slip. Then he commanded his Wardens and demons to attack my party. I think he was really proud of himself until I anchor-punched him like a Fade rift. He retreated to Adamant, whining like a frightened nug. We were all too busy fighting off our attackers to pursue him. No matter. Adamant has something to do with Corypheus's aspirations of godhood, so Adamant will fall.

I would prefer to reunite with you at Skyhold instead of in this desolate place, but I suppose I will take what I can get.

Shane

Cullen laid the missives down on his desk and leaned back in his chair. He had read them at least a dozen times already, but he still sank with the weight of them and the conflict they foretold. He ran his finger over Shane's signature and wondered if she was as nervous as he was. The assault on Adamant would be the first major military movement he would instigate as commander.

He stood and walked out of his office and onto the battlements. In the bailey below, his men were busy preparing to deploy. The Inquisition's troubles had certainly escalated since Shane had pulled Hawke's Warden friend, Stroud, out of a cave in Crestwood. He had given the Inquisition an idea of where all the Wardens had disappeared to and delivered the dour news that the Wardens were a dying breed. Even the most pessimistic of Cullen's predictions hadn't prepared him for that. And now the Wardens were allied with the Venatori. They used to be heroes, and despite their recent transgressions, Cullen did not relish the duty of leading a campaign against them. He put his misgivings aside and headed downstairs to help prepare.

The door squeaked in protest and snagged on the rough flagstones of the floor as Cullen shouldered his way into Griffin Wing Keep's newly appointed "war room". There was a slat of wood lodged under one leg of the table to keep it from wobbling, and several sacks of flour were piled in a corner. Every inch of the keep suffered from equal parts wear and neglect. The Venatori seemed not to have cared much for the place. Upon his arrival the previous day, eager for a moment hard-gotten privacy, Shane had dragged him into a musty broom cupboard that turned out to be full of bats.

It was a relief to hold her again, though the current circumstances were anything but relaxing. The way she had melted into his arms and pressed her face into his chest told him that she was feeling similarly put upon. They had both ignored the pressures surrounding them for just a moment. She had nuzzled his neck; he had run his hands firmly along her back; she had nipped at his lips; he had run his fingers ever so slightly beneath the hem of her shirt. And then…the bats.

Cullen sighed wearily and wedged himself into the cramped war room next to a barrel of salted meat.

Shane hadn't arrived yet, but several of her companions and Cullen's captains were already present.

"How have you been sleeping?" Stroud was asking Blackwall.

"Well enough," Blackwall responded curtly.

"Is that so? I count myself fortunate to get a few hours per night since the Calling started."

Blackwall grunted and continued to study the map on the table.

"Is that why I keep waking up alone?" Hawke asked Stroud with some concern, putting a hand on his arm.

Varric chuckled and shook his head. Cullen rolled his eyes. Stroud himself seemed nonplussed.

"Forgive me," he said, taking Hawke's hand in his own and bringing it up to his lips for a quick, presumably bristly kiss that was positively Orlesian.

Cullen's men stood silently and stoically, looking like statues compared to the Inquisitor's lively cohorts.

There was a muffled curse on the other side of the door as it got wedged against the flagstones again. The Inquisitor kicked it open and walked into the room trailing Rylen, who looked annoyed, and Dorian, who looked smarmy.

"Good morning, everyone," she said.

"I suppose it's technically still morning," said Hawke. "Where have you been?"

"The Knight-Captain was showing us his big rod," said Dorian, quirking an eyebrow at Rylen who made a good show of pretending the Tevinter mage didn't exist.

"He means the battering ram," intoned the Inquisitor dryly.

"Apologies, Inquisitor. Necromancers don't take a course on siege weapons."

"Yes, that is a very sound excuse for flirting with my captain during battle preparations."

"Inquisitor, I do not flirt," said Dorian. "I seduce."

Shane rolled her eyes, and granted no further response.

"Commander," she addressed Cullen firmly, putting an end to all other conversation, "How to we breach the fortress?"

Cullen was glad to get to work. As the pieces of the strategy had begun to come together over the last few days, Cullen had begun to feel less overwhelmed. A solid plan was the foundation for victory.

"I'm afraid we've no choice but to use the battering ram," he said. "Based on what I've garnered from our scouts and Warden Stroud, we're unlikely to find another way in."

"Adamant was built solidly by dwarven masters into a deep chasm," confirmed Stroud. "She is a proud Warden stronghold, and I regret the necessity of attacking her on both moral and practical grounds."

"You both sound more leery than I would like," said Shane suspiciously. "I didn't take a course on siege weapons, either. What am I missing?"

Cullen and Rylen shared a glance.

"The men wielding the ram will be nearly defenseless," explained Cullen.

"Enemies will easily drop projectiles from the battlements," added Rylen. "Boulders, burning pitch, boiling oil, heavy sacks of debris, whatever they have on hand. In this environment, I would put my coin on back-breaking bags of sand. That's in addition to the archers, of course."

Rylen probably could have been a bit less descriptive.

"The losses will be high," concluded Cullen quietly, "but we have no realistic alternative."

The Inquisitor was silent for a long time. Both of her hands were pressed into the war table, and her lips formed a thin line.

"Then it's a good thing the Inquisition's army has so many mages," she said, straightening up and crossing her arms.

"Inquisitor?" asked Cullen.

"Every mage will be fully employed with keeping barriers around themselves and the men on the battering ram until that gate is down." She spoke in a curt manner that invited no questions.

It wasn't a particularly novel idea, and it would spend their mages' stamina quickly. However, she was right about the Inquisition having an unusually high percentage of mages in its army. After she had let the mages from Redcliff join as allies, a surprising number had chosen to enlist. There were enough of them that even after those protecting the battering ram were fatigued, he would still have a respectable contingent to deploy elsewhere. It could work.

"As you say, Inquisitor."

Cullen and the Inquisitor stood at the head of the vanguard, waiting in in sober anticipation for the battering ram to finish its work. The men pulled the ram back in its suspensory chains as far as it would go. On Rylen's signal, they swung it forward, the momentum driving the spiked metal head into the iron-reinforced wood of Adamant's front gate.

Cullen's men were antagonizing the enemies on the battlements as best they could to draw focus from the ram. Trebuchets flung boulders onto the densely populated towers, and ladders broke the lines of archers. They were suffering heavy casualties on the ladders. Would taking the time to gather materials in this sparse desert for building siege towers have been worth a delay? Or would that have given the Wardens and the Venatori too much time to plan their defense? Cullen could not allow himself to question his decisions now.

At least the battering ram was enduring. Rylen had been right about the enemies dropping sand, only it wasn't in bags. It was flame-seared and scalding. The barriers kept it from spilling onto the men, but it still gathered around their legs, making their work difficult.

With one last swing, the gate exploded into splinters and twisted metal. The majority of the mages were already exhausted, but many lives had been saved and the gate had come down faster than Cullen had expected. A cry that was part cheer and part roar emanated from the army as it rushed forward.

They spilled around the spiked fist at the head of the ram and into an entry yard full of demons.

Cullen hung back to take quick inventory of the scene.

"Inquisitor," he called out to Shane, "I need you to secure the battlements." The ladders were still struggling, and he didn't like the idea of squeezing the whole army in through the relatively narrow gate.

She just nodded, and headed resolutely toward the nearest tower, waving at her party to follow. Part of him wanted to join her, but he knew the best way to help her was to stay here, keeping the main force occupied.

Battles progressed more quickly than most civilians expected. Between the armor, the heavy weapons, and the exertion, men grew too tired to fight in very little time. Still, the sun sank below the horizon before the forces regrouped in the main courtyard.

Shane and her companions found him upon returning from the battlements.

"The mages fight like they're already dead," she said without preamble. "I don't understand why. They seem almost like they're possessed, but I can tell they aren't. That one, on the other hand," she said, pointing up the stairs, "is."

"Warden Commander Clarel?" Cullen squinted, trying to see whatever Shane could ascertain so easily. "If that's true, it's no wonder the Wardens have allied with demons. But I still don't understand what Corypheus has to do with this. Is it part of some convoluted plan to get revenge on the Wardens for imprisoning him?"

Shane rolled up her right sleeve.

"Let's ask Clarel."

Shane took off up the stairs at a sprint. Hawke, Stroud, Dorian, Varric, and Blackwall followed closely behind. This time Cullen couldn't stop himself from joining them. As they mounted the stairs, a Fade rift crackled open in the middle of the courtyard behind them. Shane's mark glowed in response, but she just shook her hand before closing it around her staff.

They found Clarel and Erimond at the top of the stairs. Erimond sneered smugly.

"Inquisitor," he said, "You're too la—" Before he could finish his taunt, Shane blasted him with force magic, and he was smashed to the ground with a grunt, unable to lift himself against the invisible weight bearing down on him.

Shane barely spared him a glance.

She dropped her staff on ground and stuck her right arm straight out to her side. If the anchor on her left hand was formidable enough to give demons pause, Cullen imagined that whatever was currently building in her right hand would make them want to blink out of existence.

Her fingertips had turned black. No, not black. As the darkness crept up her fingers, across her hand, and over her arm, Cullen could see that her skin or maybe the air around it was somehow darker than black. It sucked light in, the opposite of the glowing anchor. Her arm and all of her fingers started to shake. Tendrils of green light arched from the anchor across her whole body, crackling along her twitching arm and sizzling angrily where it came in contact with that light-drinking void.

Shane flinched as her arm jerked with intense spasms. Her whole body was taut with concentration as she advanced on Clarel.

Clarel looked upon Shane in pure terror. The possessed Warden Commander stumbled as she turned to run, but Shane just lifted her left arm and slammed Clarel into the ground with another surge of force magic.

Shane knelt down on one knee, and lowered her dark arm toward Clarel, who mutely shook her head. Shane slammed her hand down onto Clarel's chest, and Clarel started to spasm much like Shane's arm had, and her body was slowly engulfed in the darkness spreading down from Shane's hand. Clarel uttered garbled screams and choked gasps.

Despite all the damage the Wardens had done, the losses they'd caused, and the necessities of battle, Cullen had a hard time watching this. He felt the need to intervene. He took a step forward, but Dorian put a hand on Cullen's shoulder and shook his head.

One moment, Clarel's body was thrashing against the ground, and the next, she lay still. Cullen thought she must be dead, until she bolted upright, gasping and clutching at her chest. She trembled slightly as she regained her breath.

"I was possessed," she said hoarsely. She leaned heavily into Dorian who helped her to stand.

"We knew you couldn't be doing these things freely, Warden Commander," said Shane. The color had seeped back into her skin. She was rolling her sleeve back down and flexing her wrist.

"I was possessed!" Clarel repeated loudly, causing some of the Wardens and Inquisition soldiers in the courtyard to pause. Blackwall ran out amongst them and tried to spread the news and stop the fighting.

"The filthy demon that was living inside of me: It works for Corypheus," she said with a grimace. "It made me convince the Wardens that we could end all Blights before the Calling takes us all."

Cullen assumed she must have misspoken.

"End all Blights?" he asked incredulously.

"I love a bit of hyperbole," Varric interjected, "but I don't see how that could be possible."

"It isn't," Clarel said flatly. "The false plan was lunacy. The Wardens were told to raise a demon army and lead it into the Deep Roads to kill all remaining old gods before they have a chance to become archdemons and start Blights."

"What?" Hawke shouted, "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"I know," Clarel responded.

"There are enough darkspawn in the Deep Roads to kill every Warden in Orlais fifty times over," Stroud added somberly.

"I know."

"There's no way to divine the location of every old god left," said Varric. "And what if you missed one? Let's not even get started on how deep some of them must be buried and that Wardens aren't exactly miners…"

"I KNOW."

"Wait a moment," said Shane pinching the bridge of her nose, "I still don't understand. Why would Corypheus send the Wardens on this fake mission?"

"It was my master's ingenious plan to raise a glorious demon army led by Warden slaves," said Erimond in a shakily imperious voice as he hobbled into a standing position. "The Wardens were bound to his will through the ritual they believed would bind the demons!"

Shane frowned at him.

"You're still alive?"

Erimond limped over to them, leaning on his staff and wheezing.

"My master will punish you for delaying his victory again! Now that the remaining Wardens know the truth, I have no reason to hold back!"

Erimond pounded the ground with his staff, looking like a mad man.

A massive shadow passed over the courtyard, and Cullen looked up into the underbelly and expansive leathery wings of the same invidious dragon that had destroyed Haven.

Dorian grabbed Erimond by the front of his shirt and said, "You are a perfect example of everything wrong with Tevinter. Thedas is not yours to play with, and it will be better off without you."

Dorian brought his free hand up to Erimond's face. Tendrils of deep purple spirit magic swirled slowly around his fingers. Erimond laughed.

"Yes! Release me from my mortal form! Corypheus will reward me handsomely in the next life!"

"Well," said Dorian, "you failed, so I kind of doubt it." Dorian put his hand on Erimond's forehead with a flash of purple light and smoke. Erimond's eyes flew open wide, and he stumbled forward, unseeing, as Dorian shoved him down the stairs. His body exploded into a grisly cloud before it reached the bottom.

Meanwhile, the dragon breathed destruction down on the troops, sending them diving across the courtyard.

"Inquisitor, you need to draw that dragon away from the men," said Cullen.

Clarel, stepped forward, her eyes steely and her jaw clenched. "Allow me, Commander."

Clarel spun her staff through the air and thrust it forward, sending a bolt of lightening straight into the dragon's chest. The dragon roared and stone cracked beneath its claws.

Clarel took off at a run.

"She can't kill a dragon by herself," said Shane. "Come on!"

Shane and her companions ran after the Warden Commander while Cullen stayed behind to maintain the arduous task of navigating the confusion and turmoil of the battle continuing to burn through the courtyard.

All of the Wardens who still retained their senses had begun fighting alongside the Inquisition, fulfilling the grim duty of laying their ensorcelled comrades to rest. They continued to fight for what seemed like hours, but Cullen knew it was only minutes.

Then he heard a thunderous crack, and whirled around to see one of the walkways high above the courtyard split and come apart. The dragon was caught by surprise and straining to take flight. It scrabbled on the crumbling edifice, rending the stone even worse.

He watched helplessly as his comrades tumbled among the wreckage and out into the open air. His muscles locked in strained stillness as he searched the falling bodies for the one he desperately hoped he wouldn't find.

But there she was.

The green light streaming from her hand was unmistakable even at a distance. Shane did a somersault in the air, her arms and legs flailing, fighting for control.

Cullen couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He was only vaguely aware of the fighting that continued around him and numbly trusted that the other soldiers wouldn't let him get run through where he stood.

His mind raced for something, anything he could do to prevent the disaster that would surely conclude before he would even have enough time to talk a step.

Then Shane flung her hand out in front of her, and a burst of green light tore through the night sky, writhing with a flare so bright Cullen had to shield his eyes.

Hawke, Stroud, Dorian, Varric, Blackwall, and his dear Shane disappeared into the green haze and did not come out on the other side.

They had fallen into the Fade.