Chapter 29: Into the Darkness

Summary: The party has reached the gates of Orzammar but they have more problem than entering the Deep Roads.


They met resistance as had reached the enormous gates of Orzammar carved into the granite walls of the Frostback Mountains. The soldiers of Loghain called Solona and Alistair traitors. Solona had heard this badge of shame for a countless times since their defeat in Ostagar but this was the first time she felt anger rising in her with bursting agony as if lava flew through her veins ending in flames flickering between her fingers. That was the first time rage clouded her every sane thoughts and the world narrowed to a group of soldiers she had to destroy, she wanted to destroy. Her mind was blank without ideas, without perception, without sense.

She wasn't human but the raging fire herself, unstoppable and consuming. And the more she fought against it the more it overwhelmed her.

The next thing she heard the desperate calling of her name and the scene of charred and smoldering stumps once were human meat and bone and the identical stink of burned flesh and skin. The terror in the eyes around her penetrated through, the muffled whispers around were like shrieks, deafening. Her sore limbs trembled and she felt drained as if she fought through the every battle of the bygone ages in a few minutes. But she was unmoving, blank as her glance fixed in the pile of corpses feeling nothing but more rage as it overwhelmed her, craving for destruction to revenge something that had been committed long before the people of this land could have remembered.

A firm grip tightened around her, dragging her away from the accusing glares and whispers into the benevolent concealment of trees of the nearby forest. As her legs dipped into the thick blanket of snows trying to keep the pace her perception to the outside world had widened feeling the embracing coldness around her, cooling and soothing against her heated and feverish skin.

"What the hell was this?" Alistair yelled as they reached a small clearing. He turned her to face him, his fingers still around her arm, tight enough to bruise. Solona glanced on her sore palm, covered with angry red marks; blisters were rising at the side of them. And suddenly the pain had reached het spiking through her body with such ferocity her legs sagged and with a painful cry she landed in the snow.

Alistair crouched beside her and grabbed a handful of snow and placed on her abused skin bringing them a small relief than a new kind of burn against her bruise. A hiss escaped her lips as the coldness hit her. Solona found it interesting how similar the sense of snow and fire were against bare skin.

"I don't understand... the fire..." she muttered as watched the cold liquid trickling down her hand, the scar on her palm peeking out, feeling deeper than it was before. "It shouldn't be..."

"You stay on the surface with Wynne and the dwarves," Alistair declared, his tone categorical. As the snow slowly melted away he grabbed another handful of it and put on her bruised hand again. "You are not in the condition to handle the Deep Roads."

Solona with an angry move snapped her hand away from his caring touch. "Since when are you giving me orders?"

"Since you made the market at the gates into a living inferno, Solona," Alistair shouted, loud enough to make the birds flee away. He drew her bruised hand to himself with a tug again, taking a fresh roll of lint out of the satchel attached to his belt, wrapping it around her angry red palm. "Maker's breath, those soldiers have melted away like the wax of the burning candle," he hissed. "And you seemed different, as if-" be bit the words off his tongue and swallowed them before something irreversible could escape his lips. "And now I can't stop thinking about it I've unleashed something with Morrigan's ritual,"

Solona with a snort pulled her hand away again from his touch. "I'm not possessed if it is that you are implying." she daggered her eyes into his but found so much hardness in the hazel of them that it made her retreating and she looked away shrinking into silence. Alistair took her hand again and finished his job on the lint around her palm. Something uncertain descended on them, something unspeakable that cut a great divide between them. And she felt the agony rising in her chest spreading across her, deeper in her sinuses with every heartbeat.

"Something is changing in me," Solona spoke at last. "Something I-" she swallowed the words before they could leave her lips because she was too terrified to give these things a form. She cradled his hand with her free one. As the warmth of her skin collided of the coldness of his she felt as it sent shivers across Alistair's body. "I can control it," the lie spilled out her mouth too easily. She turned his palm to herself and the fingers of her bandaged hand traced across his scar looking the same the one on her own palm. "You brought me back from the Fade and now you want to leave me behind?" her cadence was bitter with accusation. "I thought you-"

"I thought you had died back there at Ostagar," he thundered. "Your skin was cold and everything was red by your blood. I thought I had lost you," he squeezed his eyes to pretend the tears spilling but they were unstoppable and trickled down her cheeks. „And I had lost you there and then you came back to me."

"You still want to abandon me," Solona riposted.

"We are in Blight, Solona. We have a mission to stop it, to save the people of Ferelden. The Deep Roads is a fucked up place already. How should I fight with the darkspawn if I had to worry about you or what you would unleash."

"I'm not a helpless damsel, Alistair," she snapped, her eyes narrowed as she looked across him. "And I'm all right,"

"No, you are not," he yelled as grabbed her hand and with a violent tug drew her closer to him. "But you know what, prove it, you are," he turned her palm facing them. "Cast a fire spell," he ordered.

"What?" she blinked.

"CAST A FIRE SPELL," he repeated, even louder than before, making her to twitch. His fingers tightened around her, his nails deepened into her skin. He saw the glint of fear in her eyes but he didn't release or loosen his fingers around her. He heard the wind bringing her ominous words to him he had heard before but he didn't want to hear it..

"Do it," he hissed. "If you and I are nothing to afraid of, do it," Solona stretched her trembling fingers. She felt the pain rising, burning her skin as the flames morphing in her hand. She felt the fire embracing them, licking their skins with hot strikes of whips. She felt the spell overwhelming her, boiling her blood, taking her sane thoughts away and giving her whispers, ordering her to destroy.

"No," she wept as clenched her fingers letting the flames die away. "I can't," she breathed.

Alistair released her hand, letting it to drop by her side. He hugged her and pressed a kiss on her sweaty and hot forehead. "I'm a Grey Warden, Solona, and I need the dwarves to stop this mess, to stop the Archdemon," he whispered.

"I'm a Warden too," she protested, trying to push him away from her but the more she struggled against his embrace the more it tightened around her.

"I know," he breathed. "And I wish you weren't."


The time passed with agonizingly slow pace on the surface.

Alistair and the rest of her companion, except Wynne who Alistair had insisted to stay beside her to guard her, had descended to the thaig of Orzammar leaving her behind. Alistair didn't even look back on her when the giant gates of the underground city closed behind him. He just left her behind. And maybe he was right. It would have been better if he hadn't been a Warden. It would have been better for everyone if Duncan had never recruit him, if her Master had let the Knight-Commander to perform the Rite of Tranquility on her. It would have been better for Alistair if they had never met as if it would have been better for Cullen.

The others had descended three days ago. Solona had barely slept since then. She had buried in practicing her spells and drowning in worry and self-pity. Her magic didn't obey her anymore. And as if she didn't find it an outrageous nonsense he would have even said it even turned against her. The fire spells left angry red burnt marks on her, the ice spells chilled her skin and the lightning spells sent electric jolts through her body.

She rubbed the heels of her hands in her tired eyes, feeling the burn of the exhaustion behind her lids. She was beyond tired. Sleep had evaded her, her dreams haunted by fleeting visions of the Archdemon breathing fire on the Blight-infected lands or mirrors reflecting her elf girl looking like her with a smirk at the side of her lips. The mirrors led her to strange places, into strange memories where she was only a trespasser, an observant. Strangely demons had avoided her or became trickier. But nights were still her enemies and the days didn't become her allies.

She blinked hard, her eyes refocusing as the rays of sunlight spilled over the peaks of the Frostback Mountain and the buzzing at the back of her skull hit her again. She felt it more than enough to recognize it, still it was different, mixing with the sweet song of the lyrium veins beneath her. She felt it more intent than ever before, sometimes blurring her vision and giving her images of the Archdemon calling her to march with it.

"Pretty Lady," the cheerful voice of Sandal pulled her back again. The savant dwarf they rescued her at Lothering stuck around with his father. Solona always felt something bone-shaking and familiar as looked into those ice-blue eyes of the dwarf. As if she knew him lifetimes ago. "Enchantment,"

The dwarf handled a small pendant to her. Solona studied the crimson bloodstone, coruscating as the rays of the rising sun glinted on it. A fire rune carved into it, and the other side there was a mark, the winding vines and leaves giving out a form.

"This is..." she whispered as her eyes followed the trails of lines and finally rested on the fair-haired dwarf boy with the meek smile on his face.

"Enchantment," he answered with an all-knowing glint in his glance. Solona studied the boy, the seemingly dumb and slow. Something descended on them, darkening the air with lingering shadows of something sad and bittersweet as if they had always known each other.

"The boy has crafted this since Lothering," Sandal's foster father, Bodahn approached them. "He said for the Pretty Lady with fire. I've never seen this symbol before though, it isn't dwarven."

"It is Elven," Solona replied studying the lines more intently. "This is the symbol of Sylaise, the Heartkeeper."

"Elven?" Bodahn exclaimed. "Sandal, where did you learn these elf-things."

"They will dance and many will disappear forever," the dwarf boy said, his eyes fixed on Solona. "The dragon will fall down from the skies one last time to burn away with the white towers of ivory. And the mirrors will scatter and there will be no way back that it were before."

"By the ancestors, what's gotten into you, my boy?" Bodahn, rushed to his son and shook him.

Sandal looked on his father "Enchantment," he smiled and shrugged before left his baffled father and Solona.

"The boy says gibberish sometimes, Warden, forget it," Bodahn apologized before followed his son. The Warden held the pendant in her hand, her eyes traced the redundant lines again, crafted with great care and repeated Sandal's words in herself.

"The dragon will fall down from the skies one last time..." the buzzing in her skull suddenly spiked and she felt the caves living under her, as if blood rushed through those grooves, millions of wasted lives pulsating in the belly of the mountain. And a roaring over the marches of death bringing devastation to this land, breathing violet fire, calling her to kneel before it, to serve the taint in her blood.

"Maker, my child, you have fever again," she heard the muffled and worried voice of Wynne and felt a soft palm touching her forehead before the vision swallowed he. The black dragon was rising over Denerim, nesting in the highest tower, sea of deads around it and a last standing soldier in a golden armor, facing his last attack.

"...to burn away with the white towers of ivory," the soldier drew out his weapon and with a battle cry run toward the beast...

Cold and soaked linen hit her heated skin covered with cold sweat, the cool air of the awakening spring brought her back to the Frostback Mountains "The Archdemon is here," Solona muttered.

"You are only delirious, my dear," Wynne hushed her, the healing magic surging in her but not giving any relief. The buzzing sound in her skull was like a battle drum, louder with every beat. "Nobody is here, just us and a few dwarfs."

Solona jumped up into a sitting position, sweeping away the old mage's healing hands. "No, the Archdemon is here... I have to alert Alistair... he is walking right into the nest of the darkspawn horde," the words were erratic on her tongue.

Wynne took her gentle hands on her shoulder, pushing her back to the bedroll. "It was just a bad dream, Solona, my dear, you need to rest. Alistair insisted you to stay here, he is alright,"

"NO," Solona screamed as pushed the old mage away from her making her to fall back on the cold and frozen ground, her head collided to the dirt floor with an audible thwack. "I have to go after him," Solona heaved as stood up, her limbs weak and sore from her delirium, almost sagged. She reached for her staff and practically tore the cuirass open, the sudden sunlight, blurred her vision and sent a piercing pain to the nape of her neck. She felt the magic surging in her violently as like acid burnt her veins, boiling her blood. She felt as it broke free from her control and coils around her everywhere.

"Solona," A hand grabbed her arm, her energies invisibly crept on it, trapped the body holding her back. " You can't go there, you are not in the condition to fight. You would cause more damage than help," her magic closed around the body, keeping it in a lethal snare. She tried to escape from the grip but it held her steadily. "Solona, please, stop."

"LET ME GO," she cried, the coils of her magic tightened bringing spasmodic pain on the old mage's body, holding in to one place. The rigid fingers loosened around her and she could escape and ran to the giant gates of Orzammar, feeling the lava rivers beneath her flowing, pulsating in angry waves, wanting to break free, bringing tremors on the ground only she could feel. Her weak limbs hitched and she fell on the cold stone steps.

"Solona," Wynne ran to the Warden, her hands still shook from the aftermath of Solona's paralyzing magic.

"They trapped the fire..." Solona heaved, feeling the cool ground heating up under her touch.


Orzammar was a nightmare.

It was hot and by the angry lava rivers flowing through it, the air filled with violence and smoke, everything had the taste of ash and dust. Randomly lyrium veins found their way through the stone, glowing in iridescent blue against the warm amber light of the melted stone. Even a Templar recruit could feel the soft song the raw lyrium sang, alluring the ones who could hear it into sweet madness.

Alistair couldn't get rid of his armor fast enough after the fights at the Proving Grounds to not feel the scorch of the hot metal on his skin. He wiped the mix of sweat, dust and blood from his face with a dirty cloth, but nothing could really vanish the stain of this place. He wanted nothing more but leave and never come back. He was wondering how the dwarves could live like this, trapped under the enormous stone arches, sealed away from the sunshine, surrounded with violence and death, sieged by darkspawn.

The cloth he used to clean his face now scrubbed the dried blood off his sword. He was terrified to go deeper down the Deep Roads. He felt the calling of the Blight at the back of his skull, singing him melodies, he heard the song of the lyrium, sweeter than the most luscious sin. He felt the whole place pulsating like it was one giant organ around them and they were just cells flowing through the grooves as the blood rushes to the heart.

"It was the best you could do," he heard the soft cadence of a songbird.

Alistair run the cloth through the blade one last time before took it away and looked into the sapphire eyes glowing against the darkness of the stones. "What?"

"Leaving her on the surface," Leliana said as sat down next to him. "This place would just drive her more into madness,"

Alistair didn't answer, just registered it with a soft growl. "I know you-"

"You know nothing, Leliana," he snapped. "Do you think I'm that blind? Do you think I don't know she is losing her mind or she has already lost it? Do you think I don't know the best thing would be locking her away or-" he swallowed his words before they could have left his lips. "And I wish I could say I protect her for the sake of Ferelden, because she is a Grey Warden, that I'm just doing my duty. But I'm not even know what I am doing. How am I supposed to save Ferelden or rule it if I can't even-"

Alistair sighed heavily dropping his head between his shoulders, burying his face into his hands, raking his face with his fingers. "Do you think I don't know what you whisper behind our backs? That everyone's life is in the hands of a lunatic and an imbecile idiot?" Tears were threatening to spill out. With a nervous move he crumbled them away. "I wish it wouldn't be me, and I wish it wouldn't be her." Leliana tried to reach out for her but he angrily pulled her hands away. "This is just too much-" his words drowned into a repressed snob, but his body shook by his unshed tears.

Leliana slipped closer and placed her hand on his back, circling it in a soft and soothing caress. She touched her forehead on his back and her hands slowly entwined him into a tight embrace. "I'm here to help, Alistair." she breathed.

He trembled under her touch for long minutes as the silence descended on the small and dark hollow of the Proving Grounds. Only the roaring sounds of the arena infiltrated and the restrained wails of Alistair were audible. Leliana pressed her body to him as much as she could but nothing brought tranquility on Alistair. Everything fell on him with quintal weight, suffocating him without leaving any route of escape. Leliana hushed him as pressed feather light kisses on his back. Bu they felt cold and wizen-hearted. And Alistair wished if only it had been otherwise.

"Alistair, we have the permission to enter the Deep Roads," Zevran's voice scattered them. They jumped up in unison, adjusting their crumpled clothes with embarrassed moves. The assassin switched his glance between the Warden and the bard, narrowing his eyes. Alistair dried his tear-streaked eyes and cleared his throat before took his sword and left without even registering the words he heard.

Zevran looked after the jaded Warden as he tottered out the door. "A word of advice, Leliana, my dear," he began, picking up one of his nails avoiding her glance. "Don't try to break something that is sealed with curse and blood."

Leliana snorted as walked beside the assassin a sneer plastered on her face. "I never thought you are that superstitious," she scoffed, the only answer she got was a laugh.


The amber glow of the outside was like a sparkling sunlight comparing the dim light of braziers of the Proving Grounds. Alistair even needed to shield his eyes for a moment to adjust the sudden brightness of the lava river. As his eyes slowly adjusted a familiar figure loomed up before him, her red hair were like flames themselves against the brightness of the molten stone. Her cheeks were rosy and the green of her eyes hazy, the life barely shimmered in them. She stood against her staff; otherwise her legs couldn't bear even her own feather light weight.

Alistair rushed to her before her knees sapped and sealed her between his arms. "Blast it, you stubborn wicked witch," he hissed. "Just once, could you just do what I say?"

The feverish green eyes looked on him, flames danced in them: "The Archdemon is here," Solona whispered before lost her consciousness.