The fiery hole drilled into the Chantry's back wall by the third eye of Vengeance spread into an open flame while Sebastian apprised the townsfolk outside of the mage's capture. Fenris was only dimly aware of the smell of smoke. His attention centered largely on the unconscious mage beside him.
Fenris had half expected to kill Anders himself this day. However, he had assumed it would be a necessary part of stopping the abomination from ending more innocent lives. He had not anticipated being faced with a Tranquil version of Anders. Nor did he know what the effect of the Rite had been on Vengeance. He decided to wait and find out. If Anders proved truly Tranquil, Fenris should end him. It was what the mage would have wanted, he was certain. It would anger Sebastian, no doubt, but so be it.
Fenris took deep breaths, recovering from his recent trauma with Vengeance and the harrowing scene with Anders afterward. He found his respiration synchronizing slowly with Anders' unconscious form. Once Fenris finished gathering his energy, he took the practical step of retrieving and donning his armor.
After a moment's hesitation, Fenris decided to clothe Anders as well. Behind a red curtain, he found a costume rack in place for the actors. The taller male had an outfit with a black shirt and trousers, a ruse perhaps to make him less easily noticed while changing out props or backdrops for the stage. A large pair of black boots stood with a soldier's costume. The costume boots were constructed of a cheap material, but they would do. Anders' coat remained on the stage, having been discarded by Vengeance.
Fenris had no desire to field questions from onlookers outside the Chantry about the mage's sudden lack of attire. The elf struggled to pull the clothes onto Anders' body. He found that he could gain strength from his brands again briefly and thereby lift the mage off the floor to pull the black trousers over his hips. Recalling Vengeance wearing Anders' face with a shudder, he tried not to think too hard about the blonde's nude figure. He pulled the feathered coat on the mage's shoulders last. Though sloppy, it was a reasonable facsimile of Anders' usual somber outfit by the time Fenris was finished.
Finally, Fenris' morbid curiosity got the better of him. He remembered the twin hearts he felt earlier, the small black stone nestled into an overly large fleshy muscle. Though it took much of the energy he had, he activated the brands in his hand and lower arm. Concentrating to ensure they stayed lit, he searched forward with his gauntleted hand to explore Anders' chest. Inside was a disturbing mess. Only the large human heart remained. It was now riddled with holes where the demon's heart had joined, usurping the smaller ventricles and arteries. Blood leaked from the holes. Anders might still be alive, but not for long.
Cursing in Arcanum, Fenris followed the path of the largest artery until the cylinder broke, then groped around until he found the other side and pulled it close. He felt a painful pull on his own brands, as if their power was being siphoned to heal the rift. He pulled back his hand in shock, luckily keeping it phased via his brands until it met the open air. He examined his fingers and the back of his hand, to his surprise finding nothing amiss. Fenris gingerly returned his hand, finding other broken places to rejoin. He endured the pain, one leaking hole at a time until only one leak remained, deep in the heart's center.
Feeling distinctly warm, Fenris took a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow with his left hand. He could find no joining part to mend the final hole. As his finger grazed the spot, he felt a pull not so much on his brands in particular as on his entire hand. Fenris saw a brief flash of light trail up his arm as he covered the hole with his fingertip. The blonde took a deep, relieved breath, though he remained unconscious. Fenris could not keep his finger there indefinitely. Indeed, he could feel his vitality being sapped over time. Eventually he pulled his hand away, a sharp pain stabbing at his heart again.
Anders' blood was still leaking, albeit one slow drop at a time. Fenris mused that Anders might be able to assist, were he still capable of healing magic. His medical knowledge would probably be of little use, however. Magic. It ruined everything, and it must be to blame for this too. Fenris coughed, the rattle causing pangs in his chest. To clear his throat, he removed the canteen from his belt to take a swig.
While putting the canteen to his lips, Fenris finally noticed the smoke in the air that had made him cough. The upper half of the wall beside the Chantry door had burst into open flame. They needed to evacuate. The elf suspected that reactivating his brands long enough to drag Anders out of the building would be too painful. Thinking quickly, he poured water from his canteen over Anders' face. He sighed in relief when Anders stirred. Eyes opening, Anders reached a shaky hand to his forehead, pulling his hand away from the heat as his index finger touched the heated mark of Tranquility. He attempted to heal himself to relieve the burning, but no magic passed from his fingers. The mage looked at his hand in concern. Fenris frowned. If Anders was aware of his wounded heart, he made no immediate sign of it.
Anders spoke aloud to himself. "I feel… nothing." His eyebrows gathered in thought, eyes downcast.
"Explore your lack of feelings later," Fenris advised. "The Chantry is on fire." He pulled at one of Anders' arms to get his attention. Looking up, Anders saw flames licking along the ceiling, spreading quickly. The smoke was already wafting towards the stage. After taking a sniff, Anders choked on the fumes.
"Yes," Anders agreed. "Escape first." The mage gathered himself to a seated position. As he stood, one of his feet slipped out from under him. He looked down and noticed the poorly constructed costume boots, quickly expanding his search to the foreign shirt and pants and the familiar coat. Though he had admittedly been taking less care of his health lately, Anders still took some pride in his appearance.
Anders found he had to ask. "Why am I wearing cheap house slippers made to look like boots?"
"Your clothes were damaged," Fenris explained tersely. "Those were the closest in color I could find."
"I see," Anders said. "Form over function." He did his best not to sound judgmental. Fuzzy boots were neither practical nor attractive footwear, but it was hardly the time to criticize the elf's fashion sense.
"Just try to avoid drawing further attention," Fenris advised. "Your life may depend on it." Fenris thought to himself that, alternatively, it would hardly matter if later questioning confirmed that Anders was Tranquil. He asked himself, not for the first time, whether he had the will to end Anders' life.
Fenris' thoughts were interrupted by the collapse of a side beam holding up the Chantry's ceiling. The far corner of the ceiling had just collapsed. The beam dropped diagonally, pushed forward by the slope of the falling roof. The beam smashed into the upper arch of the door, which held due to the door's structural integrity. The collapse sent bits of ceiling to the floor, where the fire found new purchase. One shattered board fell to the red curtain on the side of the room. The fibers caught flame fantastically fast.
Anders' eyes followed the path of the fire on the side curtains as it trailed towards the stage. Shaking his head to clear it, he appeared to recognize his location. He spotted his staff across the stage and Fenris' sword nearby. Arm over his face to combat the heat and smoke, he gathered them awkwardly before returning to Fenris' side. He held out the sword to Fenris, blade dragging heavily along the stage floor.
Fenris declined it with a shake of his head. "I am not at full strength," he admitted reluctantly. "Can you carry it outside?" Anders nodded. Fenris tried not to flinch upon noting Anders scrutinizing his condition.
He ended up flinching all the same, though in response to an unexpected sound. The air filled with static electricity as showers of sparks popped from behind the burning velvet curtain. The sparks caused a pair of additional fires to spring up on the wooden floor, both spreading slowly outwards. One of the blankets covering the stained glass windows also caught ablaze, a trail of fire zipping upwards rapidly to join the growing circle of flame following the boards and tiles of the roof from the door toward them.
"One more thing," Anders said. "My pack." He dropped the sword momentarily and lurched towards the pews, again covering his mouth. He kept to the side of the aisle furthest from the curtain. Fenris thought to call out to Anders to tell him to come back. It occurred to him that a Tranquil mage may have little care for their own safety. Fenris' mouth simply hung open as he watched the blonde recklessly risk his own life over the contents of a backpack. The mage's expression was impossible to read behind his arm.
"Anders!" Fenris yelled. The mage was luckily bent down when another shower of sparks popped from behind the curtain. "Leave it!" The warrior's stern advice was heeded after a fashion. The mage fussed with the pack before abandoning it. Meanwhile, the mage broke into a sweat from the increasing heat in the room. He was crouched down for his return, avoiding the wall of smoke descending from the ceiling.
Just as Anders picked up the sword hilt again, the ceiling collapsed entirely. The center beam, formerly held up by a series of internal arches, dropped when only one arch remained untouched by fire. The collapse of the ceiling's far corner had ironically made it difficult for the fire to reach one side of the arch nearest the door. The fire had raged closer and closer to the back stage where Fenris and Anders stood. It was the end of the beam nearest them that swung down, crashing through the flimsy backdrop of Minrathous and through stage to the ground beneath, the pyre helplessly falling over on its metal stand.
Anders managed to pull back out of the way. Fenris barely turned to face the beam before it plowed through the stage into him, forcing him to lose his balance and fall. The beam finally ceased its forward movement after pinning Fenris' leg to the stage. The elf screamed in surprised pain, clutching his leg.
"You're wounded," Anders surmised. The elf groaned, an open grimace covering his face. He tried to light his brands to move the beam, but it was too heavy even for his supernatural strength. Anders tried to assist with lifting the beam, but he the oppressive weight of it was too much for them both combined.
"Can't you… phase out your leg?" Anders asked. "Like with your hand?" He made a fisting motion.
"No." Fenris shook his head. He looked up at Anders, whose eyes were pinned behind him. Looking back, Fenris saw that the center beam had pulled fire to the backdrop, and it had been mostly eaten away. The flames that licked toward the stage from the backdrop were also closing in from the pews.
The elf's mouth set in a hard line. He knew a lost cause when he saw one. "You should go," Fenris said.
"No," Anders said. "That's the last thing I should do." Their eyes locked, green orbs questioning curiously while amber orbs responded with stubborn determination. Time seemed to stop, despite their hazardous surroundings, as a single orange spark flew between their faces, a piece of painted sky joining the cloud of smoke from the remnants of the backdrop behind them. Fenris' eyes softened, startled. He feared he could not unilaterally end Anders' life after all. Luckily, he suspected he might not have to.
Anders looked down. "I have an idea. Instead of moving the beam, can we shift your leg out through the stage?" The boards had already been rent by the beam. Anders began prying at the nearest upturned board. Fenris took his queue and began digging his fingers into a gap on the other side of the beam. After a moment's work, they pried one of the boards loose near Fenris' leg. With a burst of energy from his brands and a grunt of pain from using them, Fenris pried the last board loose. Tenderly, Anders extracted Fenris' leg by pulling it down into the gap and back out at a place further from the beam's fall.
"Let's get out of here," Anders said, indicating his readiness. Fenris leaned against Anders, guiding them towards an exit behind the stage that led to the Mother's rectory. He took the mage's staff for support, freeing up the mage's arm to drag the warrior's sword. They made it out to Fenris' open sigh of relief.
As they stumbled out into fresh air, they heard another collapse behind them. Tall metal rods holding the metal symbol of the sun marking the top of all Andrastian Chantries had fallen at last. While held up by a stone base with its own wooden structure for support, the weight had finally proven too much as the building's structural integrity deteriorated beyond saving. From the sound of it, the giant metal sun's edifice had fallen onto the stage, clanging into the fallen center beam before sliding to the ground.
"Bless the Maker, you're alright," Sebastian called. He had just come around the corner of the building, having given up on breaching the blazing fire at the Chantry's main entrance. Sebastian clapped his arms to Fenris' shoulders, causing the elf's good knee to buckle before he righted himself in Anders' grip.
"I see you preserved our cargo as well," Sebastian noted with approval. "You're a true friend, Fenris." The archer guided Fenris away from the fire, relieving Anders from his position of main support.
"Am I?" the warrior countered drolly. Fenris smirked, looking at Sebastian from the corner of one eye. He shrugged off the help, stubbornly standing on his own despite the extensive injury to his leg. The elf gripped the mage staff, using it as a second leg while he kept the injured one raised, limping gracelessly.
"You're here, aren't you?" Sebastian flashed an easy smile, his posture loose and self-assured. Anders for his part took to touching the brand again, now that it was merely warm instead of hot. After he shifted his head to view Sebastian, his nimble fingers dropped steadily down to the gold collar around his neck. Fenris' eyes flicked over to Anders, blinking slowly, before returning full force to Sebastian.
"So I am," Fenris said to the rogue agreeably, his tone making it clear that this had not been a foregone conclusion a moment ago. "And as a friend, I presume you will not relate to others what took place inside?" Fenris gestured at the Chantry with his chin. Sebastian coughed politely. "You presume well."
"Wait," Anders interrupted. "Neither of you are going to tell me what happened?" It sounded innocent enough, but Sebastian crooked an eyebrow at the question. The elf and prince looked at each other.
"No," they said in unison. While Fenris grunted, Sebastian elaborated. "You've no right to ask, mage."
"Okay," Anders said, sighing in resignation. His face grew blank again. "Just forget I said anything." As the three rounded the building, Anders spotted a small crowd across the street from the Chantry. Sebastian nodded in their direction. Anders straightened, deciding against further interruptions.
"I intend to forget," Fenris said. The warrior turned to Sebastian. "What's next?" As usual, he spoke his question with the inflection of a statement, all but certain that the answer was a foregone conclusion.
"A proper trial," Sebastian said. "The only question is where. This town lacks the resources. Kirkwall is too… unstable." The prince dismissed Kirkwall with his hand, then raised it to his chin thoughtfully. "Starkhaven remains the province of my half-witted cousin. For now." He shook his head in annoyance.
"You have decided to retake your lands," Fenris surmised. He looked utterly unsurprised.
"Not necessarily," Sebastian wavered. "My duty is to the Free Marches and the Church of Andraste. Anders' assault was a crime against our shared religion. This suggests that we should deliver him to the Divine. Or to one of her Seekers, should one intercept us along the way. Starkhaven can wait until after Anders has been secured and his rebellion laid to rest. My duty is clear. We head to Val Royeaux."
"Hmph," Fenris scowled at their destination. He looked back at Anders briefly, resisting the urge to tilt his head upon seeing the mage worrying his lower lip. An eyebrow raised gently, he turned back towards Sebastian, stepping so that he stood between the rogue and Anders. "You expect to attend this trial?"
"I'm a material witness," Sebastian said, widening his arms to mark the self-evidence of his answer. "So are you. You should come with me. When the trial ends, we'll head to Starkhaven. Together." A gentle smile played on the rogue's lips, his eyes twinkling momentarily. "My offer still stands, you know."
Fenris grunted, amused. Behind him, Anders shifted his weight from one foot to another. The fire still raged in the Chantry, the worst of it now reaching the stained glass window nearest them. The glass shattered, bits of colored light crossing their faces as the glass fell inside and out. It did appear the fire would be contained to the Chantry, separated as it was from the rest of the town by barren earth.
The smoke was wafting from the window. Fenris prompted Sebastian. "I take it the horses are waiting?"
Sebastian gestured at his horse, still tied to the post holding the sign for the play. The horse Fenris had ridden into town was now beside it, having been moved nearer at Sebastian's bidding. "After you."
The rogue waited patiently for Fenris to make his way slowly forward, his weight on the staff. Fenris took a wide berth of the Chantry to be safe, even though a gentle breeze was pushing the fire the other direction. Sebastian continued to wait until Anders got the hint and followed after Fenris. Sebastian followed far behind, watching Anders' vaguely mechanical steps with unrestrained satisfaction.
As Anders made it to the horses, he watched with concern as Fenris used his one good leg to volley himself half onto the horse. Gripping the saddle with one hand, Fenris forced his injured leg over the saddle with his other arm. Anders winced at the pained noise Fenris gave before settling into the saddle.
By the time Sebastian made it to their horses, Fenris was already mounted and reaching an arm down to Anders, silently instructing him to share the horse. Sebastian groused. "Wouldn't it be preferable for him to walk? It's not as if he's going to mind." Sebastian mounted his white steed with admirable agility.
"His weight will provide stability for my leg," Fenris insisted. Anders accepted Fenris' outstretched arm. One foot on the now vacated stirrup, he vaulted behind Fenris. He shifted his weight several times until he found a position that didn't cause the elf's injured leg up to rub against his own.
"Hold on," Sebastian said. He fished at his utility belt, removing a red flask. "Maybe this will help." Fenris took the potion from the prince's outstretched hand and quaffed it eagerly. "Thank you." The pained face on the elf eased significantly, though he continued to keep the foot on that leg outside the stirrup.
"Hold tight," Fenris ordered. Anders complied, putting his arms around the elf's slender waist. Without waiting for Sebastian to argue further, Fenris set his horse to a trot along the road leading out of town.
Though Sebastian had intended to follow immediately after, his attention was forced aside by a small hand tugging insistently at his chainmail leggings. "Serrah?" Sebastian looked down at a young boy with blond hair, large brown eyes, and up upturned nose. "Yes?" Sebastian asked impatiently. "What it is?"
"Me and my brother want to know," the boy said. "Did that bad man start the fire?" The boy gestured towards Anders' back, his gaze flicking to the docile mage in black before returning back to Sebastian.
"He did," Sebastian said. "But don't you worry. Wildhaven is safe now. The bad man is going far away." The prince beamed a reassuring smile. He reached down and ruffled the boy's hair affectionately.
"Good," said the boy. He walked back over to a teenager in overalls, presumably his brother. Sebastian's gaze followed the boys to a small crowd of townsfolk organizing to relay buckets of water from a public well a block away to the Chantry fire. Though he was no expert on the containment of fires, the Chantry looked like a lost cause to Sebastian. Mouth in a tight line, he bid his horse to follow after Anders.