I will not sugar-coat it, this chapter was hard to get through. It's like getting to the last pages of a book, and realizing that your previous eagerness to get through it now leaves you with no more at the end. Well, maybe a game is more of an appropriate comparison, all things considered. We're at the end of Awakening, and about to return to the wider conflicts of Thedas and Tamriel both.

I am aware, grudgignly, that Talia is not everyone's favorite character. It's a matter of personal taste, and honestly not something I can fault anyone but myself. Still, even if people do not care too much about her, it is a pleasure to know they care about other characters, even ones I never thought would be popular (the joy it brought me when I realized people worried about Khaok and Cauthrien is hard to describe), and once more we're zooming out from the small picture, the the somewhat bigger one.


Mother's Day


Cíada's outburst left the chamber in heavy silence.

Aedan, his attention torn between the Architect's reaction to the elf's words, whatever it might be, and Talia struggling to keep herself from...from what, exactly? His wife jolted and struggled in his arms, rivulets of sweat rolling down her face. She hissed, recoiling from herself and the world, the veins of her temples standing out as if ready to burst.

Of course, an actual outburst followed soon enough.

"I'll kill him! I'LL KILL HIM!" Carver yelled, sword unsheathed as he leapt for the Architect. Sten, his reaction faster by a fraction, grabbed the boy's arm and yanked him back. The Darkspawn before them had not even flinched; "LET ME GO! STEN! LET GO OF ME!"

Sten, however, neither spoke nor obliged him. Aedan found himself grateful to the Qunari, even though his actions spoke against their very purpose and task here. To kill Darkspawn.

"MY FAMILY! THEY'RE DEAD! DEAD!" Carver cursed, yelled and spat, punching at the Qunari's arm. Sten maintained his grasp on him, having realized much the same as the rest of them. The Architect had planted Caridin in the floor with a mere gesture. Aedan wasn't even sure if they could kill him.

"My plans...have not gone as I intended." The Architect muttered, lowering his hands as if to make himself less threatening; "I intended to prevent the Blight, I truly did. It is... a plague upon all of us, not just the dwarves and surface lands."

"Road to Hell..." Boris muttered, his stance still as if ready to spring upon the monstrous creature. Could the Templars bring the Architect down? What if their powers had no effect on him, and it would simply result in the deaths of his comrades? Frustration and fear gnawed at his guts, even as the monster before them remained unmoving, waiting.

Aedan's attention was torn from the others when Talia suddenly calmed down, though now seemed as if she were asleep. He opened one of her eyelids, relieved beyond measure that the eye within was normal, human. He'd half expected, and wholly feared, to find a reptilian pupil within the green. Light slaps to her cheeks brought those eyes back, rolling around in their sockets before finding their focus, the glazed gaze receding.

"You alright?"

"I'm...just had a bit of..." she closed her eyes again and groaned, bringing up a hand to rub at them; "Damn it, I'm gonna get so much shit for this..."

"What happened?" Brelyna was at their side in an instant, hands aglow but not yet touching down. She seemed as confused and concerned as he was, which did not take him by surprise; "You're unharmed, aren't you?"

"...more or less." Aedan didn't like the sound of that, at all. More or less could be anything from a mild cold to just barely staunching a fatal wound. He supported her as she sat against the wall, her attention not on them but on the creature before them; "...I don't suppose you've got a plan?"

He shook his head, honestly, he had nothing. They knew nothing about this opponent, save that he was to Darkspawn as giants to men. Blight magic held horrors few could imagine, and he was not keen on provoking a display.

"...I've got one." He frowned as she spoke, wondering if she'd received some sort of revelation from her blackout. In Sten's iron grasp, Carver was starting to quiet down. Not that the boy seemed to be calming down, but that the resurfacing grief had left him drained. That at least gave them some time; "But, you're not gonna like it."

It wasn't like he had anything better than trying to stall. The Architect - whatever he or it actually was - was no mere Darkspawn, that was clear enough for everyone, he felt sure. The talking Darkspawn, the Withered, had said the Architect was old, though exactly how old was hard to tell. He looked and acted disturbingly human.

"How exactly do you even go from trying to prevent a Blight, to starting one?" Cíada had not quieted down, it seemed. Aedan grimaced at her tone. He had no idea what would set off the Architect, and they already knew they likely stood little chance against him. The one chance they had was if the Templars could actually rob him off his magic, but even that wasn't a given. Alistair had once told him how Templar training had prepared him - or would have, had he ever finished it - for mages capable of weathering a smite; "How fucking incompetent do you have to be for that to happen?"

A frown marred the Architect's expression, at least what of it could be seen.

"Grey Wardens attain immunity through your Joining." His answer was not addressed to the elf; "I only sought to replicate it, with the Archdemon."

"It didn't work." Talia had slowly risen to her feet, without grace but at least she seemed steady enough that he didn't have to support her. Of the many things he could read from her expression, confidence was not among them. What was she planning, if anything at all? It would not be beyond the pale for her to have no plan at all; "Okay so...I have... a suggestion, if anyone's interested?"

Several eyes, those that hadn't already looked at her when she began talking, now turned their attention on the redheaded mage. She shifted on her feet, clearly not entirely as comfortable with the attention as she maybe should have been. Her boots scraped the dusty tiles, as if she was hoping to dig forth the confidence from the rock itself.

"I am interested." Caridin was the first to speak, still on his back. Aedan wasn't entirely clear on whether he as being held there, or if his golem form simply wasn't capable of rising from such a fall; "Will you speak of your suggestion, Warden Aulus?"

"Right, okay, I'm just..." she rubbed at her face, dragging back sweaty hair until her look reminded him of Flemeth. A finger, not entirely free of shaking, pointed to the Architect; "You want to prevent the Blights from happening, as in at all. No more Blights, ever, yes?"

"Yes, although I admit to my failings and their consequences, my intentions were not malevolent. Stopping the Blight, by any means necessary." The Architect paused, as if he wasn't sure on the words he'd spoken; "...Is that not the Warden saying?"

"I wouldn't know, but it is in the job description." She shrugged before clasping her hands together, palm to palm; "We came here to kill the Mother, but we've no clue on what or where or who she is...I'm guessing on the she part, by the way."

"The Mother is..." hesitation, from the great Darkspawn. Aedan again wondered if they should clear away the non-Wardens of the group, simply to make sure no taint was spread to them. Far as he knew, it was only done through wounds, but still; "...she is my most flawed creation. Cruel as irony is, sanity and sentience drove her mad, once she saw the monstrous form she bore. Your kind calls it a Broodmother, though I would caution to believe her so mundane..."

"Heard that, Cat?" Cíada muttered with dripping sarcasm; "Broodmothers are mundane..."

"I came here to end the Mother, but...I cannot approach her in the flesh, her children, such twisted abominations, they keep her safe from me." For a moment, the monstrous humanoid watched the ground, as if the confession brought him shame; "...I am in need of your help, Wardens, if the Mother is to be stopped. She will attack the surface again and again, and grow in strength, if she is not stopped here and now."

"Lovely..." Talia muttered; "Sentient, power-hungry Broodmothers are my favorite thing, right after death..." Aedan watched her, biting his tongue as her intentions started becoming clear to him, disturbing as they were, if he was right; "You need our help to kill the Mother. What then? What will you do if we don't kill you as well? Regardless of you intentions, you are Darkspawn. You corrupt and despoil by merely being present."

"I am aware, that your code would bid you attempt to slay me, as well...But," Aedan's hand was already on the pommel of his sword again, ready if this was the point where the eldritch horror before them snapped; "But, would it be that we could resolve this without violence between us, I would go away, deep within the world, where not even the dwarves set their feet."

"It is a Darkspawn, it must die." Caridin insisted, and Aedan found himself leaning towards the Paragon's point of view, rather than his wife's. He would support her, still, but he was not in agreement with the notion of letting something as vile and horrifying as sentient Darkspawn remain afoot; "Being intelligent only means it will lie and deceive."

"...so, there's my suggestion." Talia sighed, her back straightened in the face of the creature before them; "For now, we help you kill the Mother. Then you go away, take your smart Darkspawn with you. We kill any you don't take with you, and we will continue to do so whenever we find Darkspawn. If we ever hear about Darkspawn raids on the surface, or attacking the Dwarves, doesn't even have to be in Ferelden, we'll take it as you breaking the deal. We'll find you..." she paused, and Aedan thought for a moment her hesitation was of doubt, until she gestured at Carver; "And Carver gets to cut your head off."

"Darkspawn will attack us." Caridin pointed out; "It will break such an oath as soon as it'd breathe."

"Why not just kill him now?" Carver was the next to speak, anger and grief mixing in his. Aedan was inclined to agree, but knew as well that they'd have no chance at planning amongst themselves if it came to it. The Architect no doubt could listen in even if they whispered far, far away. Again came the certainty that they would not be able to kill this creature without suffering casualties themselves, casualties they didn't have to suffer; "It's not right to leave Darkspawn alive. Aren't we Grey Wardens?"

"...there is a line, I believe, between being Grey Wardens, and being dead." Surprisingly, it was Ser Boris who spoke, the lack of complaining or swears surprising as well, though this was fast made up for; "Sure's Hell I didn't pack enough lyrium to take down Arcane Horrors...or whatever this bastard is."

It was a sound point, and seemed to get through to the rest of them. Aedan hated the fact that he found himself forced to agree with it, with the fact that they were matched against such a being. If they had known beforehand, they could have prepared. Brought potions, extra lyrium flasks, Howe soldiers, maybe even Legionaries.

Legionaries, he somehow felt, might have made quick work of this place, and all its tainted inhabitants. They would have cleansed the place with fire, like they did with the Darkspawn at Denerim. Here, he dared not risk the lives of his companions in a fight that didn't need to take place.

At Talia's mentioning of Carver separating the Architect's head from his body, a figure appeared as if emerging out of the Darkspawn's shadow. A dwarf, a woman clad from head to toe in bronze-colored plate, a sword ready in one hand, a shield in the other. The group fell into surprised silence, none having seen the dwarf before now. It was like the ghoul Seranni, he realized, some strange ability to disappear and appear from shadows, in ways that made Leliana's tricks seem childish by comparison. Her face was set in anger.

"No, Utha..." the Architect motioned for the ghoul to stand down; "That is not how this must go." His face turned to them; "I agree to this proposal, Warden, if it is shared by your group as a whole."

Aedan waited for the protests. His eyes wandered their group, trying to pick out faces with mouths about to open. Carver looked like he wanted to beat the Architect with a rock, not that he could be faulted for it. Sten seemed to share the opinion, and could probably beat harder than Carver, but stuck to scowling.

"I protest this agreement." Caridin, of course, was the one he'd most expected would disagree; "But I also am no fool, Wardens. If this is the decision of your Order, let the consequences be upon you too."

"Thank you, Wardens." The Architect actually bowed his head. With a gesture of his hand no more energic than before, he raised Caridin back on his feet; "I am...not blind to how difficult this must be for you."

"You'd better not be." Talia's voice was devoid of emotions, save perhaps the promise of retribution if the Architect deceived them. Aedan knew she didn't dare unleash her powers fully, for fear of their unborn child, but by no means was she powerless. She could back up the threat, he knew that. Her voice was colder, harder, when she spoke again; "Where is the Mother?"

The Architect guided them to a wide, descending corridor large and wide enough that Ogres could have passed through, and left them there. This, contrasting the marble-clad and chiseled stone corridors of the Tevinter architecture, was dug through the rock by Darkspawn, its walls dressed in the same fleshy substance as the bridge had been. No one dared touch it, and their mere presence seemed to...agitate the walls, as if the stuff wasn't just organic, but outright alive.

"What even is this stuff?" Cíada asked, her fingers hovering inches from the reddish mush.

"I do not believe we want to know." Ser Ava muttered, weapon at the ready as she was one of those taking point down the descending corridor; "Careful you don't slip, it's on the floor too."

"The tunnel widens out." Caridin, taking point, noted as his massive feet carried him downwards with a certainty the others did not enjoy. The golem was in no risk of slipping when his weight alone anchored him in even the slimy substances covering the ground to increasing degrees. The mages were burning it ahead of them, but only the top layers seemed to boil away. The stench was enough to make him gag; "...by the Ancestors..."

Where the corridor ended, the ceiling seemed to disappear, as did the walls. The floor widened out with the walls and the loft, becoming a cave of such size that it was hard to imagine it not breaking through to the surface world. Rays of light even shone in from above. Had morning already come?

The flesh-covered path persisted, spreading like a rug across every surface ahead of them. The mages gave up at the sight, and even Caridin had ceased trying to burn away the substances. There was simply too much of it. Like mosses, it covered the walls and the stalagmites and rocks, a bobbling, living mass. Thick, black veins like arteries spread throughout it, and all of them traced back, like the branches of water streams, to the back of the cave.

"By Azura..." Brelyna's whisper was one of horrified disgust. The Architect had at least spoken the truth when it came to the Mother's nature, or at least her appearance.

Seated like a grotesque parody of some queen on her throne, the Mother was a deformed woman, her upper half a pale, human mockery of the word, with black, filthy-looking hair hanging in loose bundles over a face lined with red, as if tattooed or segmented. It was hard to tell where the line was drawn between the human form and that of the mound of flesh and tentacles that was the Broodmother's body. At the waist there was no doubt nothing human remained, as the breasts lined up underneath like the teats on a Mabari bitch.

"Fucking Hell..." Talia breathed, a hand clamped over her mouth as her eyes widened in horror. Aedan felt his insides turn, both at the sight and the smell. Next to him, his wife bent over and emptied her guts onto the flesh-covered ground.

"Ah, if it isn't the brave heroes." The Mother could speak too, of course. Aedan had hoped she wouldn't. her greeting was a mocking one, loud and crowing in a way that reminded him of Flemeth. The same madness laced the mother's voice; "Here to slay the mother. Here to kill her, hmm? Here to end the threat she poses to the Father's plans."

"Peculiar way of pleading for mercy." Sten grumbled, his lilac eyes sweeping the grounds. Several places, it looked as if the fleshy substances were boiling, budding like mushrooms would start sprouting from the reddish muck. It took him another moment to realize that something was budding, yet he couldn't tell what; "I trust we are not considering sparing this thing as well?"

"Not a chance." Talia wiped the slime from her mouth; "Caridin?"

"It will be my pleasure." The Paragon boomed, striding forward, through the mush. The substances stuck to the golem as he passed through, and it took a moment before Aedan saw, and the others saw, that it was not merely something sticking to the Paragon's massive frame. The Mother's babbling, maddened words and curses with little coherence, punctuated by a loud, ear-shredding scream. As if it had been the signal, the buds they'd noticed before now shot from the ground.

"Oh... shit." J'zargo hissed.

Dozens of tentacles grabbed onto the Paragon, halting the massive golem in his tracks. The first, he tore from the ground like the arms of a squid, but quickly they became too many for him to shrug or tear off.

"Help Caridin!" Aedan yelled.

Even as he leapt forward, Sten and Carver were next to him, blood-dulled blades swung as soon as they reached the first tentacles. More rose, even as the first were cut apart with unsettling ease. He'd though it like cutting down trees, but it was more like cutting a boneless arm. It was pure muscle, brimming with taint and power enough to crush a man in plate. But so, so easily cut and sliced.

More and more appeared, growing out of the muck. Aedan cut and cut, lopping off the tentacles only a little slower than the next would appear. The muscular spikes grasped at them, grasping at their arms and legs. It was becoming harder and harder to move forward, the substances underneath sucking him down.

Fire engulfed him.

The flames licked around him, scorching the tentacles and strings of crawling meat, yet left him entirely unharmed. Talia stood not far away, already casting new spells along with the other mages, while the Templars hacked away anything threatening their spell casters. Cíada was the only one of them actively moving forward, paving a path with corrosive acids and entropic spellfire. The fleshy underground did not so much recoil as it simply disintegrated, growing first dark then black then withering entirely into dust.

But she could only go so far, before the strain became too much and Ser Boris had to wade in through the red paste, hauling out the drained mage before she was swamped in regrowth. Like crawling rats, the red meat stuck to his armor, crawling upwards even as he tore each step from the muck.

Strings shot directly from the muck to his front, dragging the weary Templar face first into the substances. Somehow, he managed to hold Cíada above it long enough to throw her back to the others. Then, with a gurgling bellow, his form was covered entirely. Cíada screamed at the sight.

"Boris!" Ser Ava yelled, fear and dread fat in her voice.

Aedan was struck with horror at what he'd just seen. The very ground would swallow them if they didn't get to its source, the cackling Broodmother at the back of the cave. They couldn't even get to her like this, and the Architect and his promised aid was nowhere to be found.

A wave of flames washed over the growth devouring the Templar, boiling away the reddish flesh with sizzling shrieks, as if the stuff itself was conscious. Steaming, Boris staggered to his feet but was stopped when new growth grasped him. Again, fire washed the Templar, Talia hurling brief bursts of incineration at the encroaching mass.

"Get up, Templar!" she yelled at him, her face gleaming with sweat and fury.

Aedan noticed she had stepped forward to better aim her spells, and a cape of fire scorched the ground she walked. He couldn't even imagine the strain that had to put on her, and she'd done it to save a Templar. J'zargo dragged the exhausted Boris the last meters back to relative safety, protected as he did so by the stalwart Ser Ava.

"Aedan!" Talia yelled; "This isn't working!"

"I've noticed!" he shot back, irritated and frustrated, and by the Maker he was tired. Up ahead, on the other side of the ever-sprouting forest of tentacles, Caridin was burning and scorching, tearing and ripping. Constantly new tentacles would rise to replaced what was torn or burned; "Anyone's got a plan?!"

"The tentacles grow from the muck!" it was Ser Ava who yelled now, though her message was hardly a revelation; "If you burn enough of it, it'll run out!"

"What else, the skies' blue?" Cíada groused, rubbing at where she'd planted her face against the cleared ground; "Shit grows back faster than we can destroy it, and I'm running pretty fucking low on reserves."

"Oh!" Brelyna exclaimed, digging her hands into the satchel on her hip. Glass bottles of blue liquids emerged; "Talia!"

Talia turned in time to catch the small, blue bottle tossed her way. It took a moment for Aedan to recognize that it wasn't a lyrium potion, though he felt like he could be forgiven, considering his attention was split between the mages and clearing out the wiggling, tentacle-weeds.

"You're a gods-send, girl!"

"You had those all this time?!" Ser Ava yelled before Cíada had the chance, though the elf looked like she agreed; "Where did you even get lyrium?"

"It's not lyrium." Brelyna protested, edging back as the fleshy mush crept closer. Flames enveloped the girl for a moment, scorching away the red growth; "I don't even think it works on Thedas mages."

"Bullshit, Lyrium works on Talia." Cíada argued, staggering over to the Dunmer; "I'm scraping the barrel as is, I'll take the risk."

Brelyna paused, hesitating with one hand around the neck of another flask. As if gauging the stillness of the mages, another tentacle burst from the muck, striking at the smaller elf.

Boris, by some Maker's miracle already on his feet again, shoved the small woman aside and took the blow in her stead. Hardened muscle that would have penetrated Cíada's body instead struck the Templar's armor like a warhammer, throwing him against the wall where he fell, limp as a doll.

"Boris!"

"Give me that!"

Cíada no longer asked, and grabbed the flask from Brelyna's hand. Aedan wasn't allowed to watch what came next, when fresh attacks surged from the floor he walked on, trying to haul him down as it had Ser Boris. The substances stuck to his shield, yanking at his arm until he simply released it, realizing it was little use against their current foe. Instead he grasped the sword's hilt with both hands, and started cutting through the naked muscles dragging him down.

"Oh boy..." his attention swung back to the mages, in time to see Cíada dropping the emptied flask. The Circle mage swayed on her feet, as if drunk. The air sparked around her, causing the Khajiit next to her to step away; "I don't...I feel...weird..."

"Oh dear."

"What's going on back there?!" Carver yelled, his voice as tired and frustrated as he looked. His swings and cuts were growing sluggish, and some even failed to cut through tentacles on the first try; "We're getting swamped! Someone get Caridin moving or we're going to die here!"

"I'll- I'm on it!" Cíada staggered forward, holding out a hand. Aedan moved out of the way, more than wary of how the Circle mage's magic would respond to the Tamrielan potion. The air crackled with green in the elf's outstretched palm, then fizzled out like a candle. For a moment, Aedan nearly managed to breathe with relief, that at least the potion didn't seem to have any unexpected effects.

It was a fool's hope, of course.

The air around Cíada combusted, throwing the small mage backwards from a blooming ball of fire. Ser Ava caught her, but the momentum was still enough to send both of them to the ground. Cíada was knocked out cold, though Aedan's eyes were instead on the dissipating cloud, and the flames still licking at the growth nearest to where the elf had just now been launched from. He wasn't allowed the time to connect the dots, however.

Caridin had town himself free, immolating the ground he stood on in the process, and had made his way through the mush to the 'Mother'. It was telling just when the abominable creature felt threatened, when every tentacle not yet grasping at the Paragon withdrew back into the ground, only to burst out around the golem instead.

It left both Sten and Carver, for a moment, swinging at the empty air.

"Move up! Move up!" Aedan yelled, moving through the sludge as fast as he could make way. It felt like much of the paste-like substance was retreating now, coalescing to better defend the center. It was like running back out with the tide, like he and Fergus had done as children; "Support Caridin!"

"Quake before the might of Orzammar, abomination!" Caridin bellowed, flames pouring from his gauntlets to bathe everything around him in cleansing fire. Tentacles beyond counting sprouted from the ground, wrapping around everything and anything where they could gain purchase. Whether it was a testament to the Paragon's own will or dwarven craftsmanship, they could not bring down the lumbering war machine; "I am Caridin, Paragon of Orzammar! I shall tear your heart out, oh enemy, and cast it to the ground wreathed in fire!"

"CHILDREN! CHILDREN, COME TO THE MOTHER!"

Everyone, even the unfaltering Caridin, paused at those shrill-shrieked words. Even as they echoed off the walls of the cave, other sounds seemed to replace them. Hundreds, thousands of chittering feet, like cockroaches, coming from every hole and nook and shadow.

"Something's coming." Sten noted, turning his head to scan the walls.

Aedan felt his skin crawl as he saw the first of the "children", those abominable larvae-like creatures. Barely had he spotted one, before dozens poured from what seemed like everywhere and nowhere at once, coming out of the very rock itself.

"This is bad." Carver had already squared his stance again, no longer moving for Caridin. None of them were, in truth, except for the mages now moving away from the entrance to the cave. Talia and the rest of the conscious mages hurled spellfire as they retreated, though it seemed to do little in the face of the swarming grubs; "Hey, Talia! Where's that Architect you made promise to help us?!"

"No idea, fuck him!" the Breton yelled back, her tone leaving little to the imagination of just where Carver could shove his hindsight. The Architect was probably waiting for them to die weakening the Mother, enough that he could finish it himself and throw aside the agreement. Ser Ava and J'zargo carried the limp forms of Cíada and Boris behind their line, while Brelyna's Atronachs stomped and squashed anything getting too close; "Form a circle! Mages behind! CARIDIN! KILL THAT BITCH ALREADY!"

"I have!" Caridin bellowed in retort, tossing the torn-off head of the 'Mother' towards their circle. The mush was already withering, though Aedan had not the time to consider it correlated before the first of the grubs were upon him; "I even tore the heart out and set it alight, as sworn!"

"They don't seem to care all that much, do they?" Carver's voice was strained, his exhaustion evident even as he cut down the swarming abominations. Aedan too put all other thoughts aside, and concentrated what energy he'd left on pest control; "Hey, Sten!"

"What." The Qunari growled, pulling his blade from the skull of a grub, before kicking another away that had sought to take a chance at him being "unarmed". Of course, being a Qunari, Sten was never unarmed.

"We might die here!" Carver's words were strangely devoid of the fear men usually held when they said that kind to things. Then again, it could be the fear was there, but Aedan simply couldn't hear it over the chittering and screaming of the fat, crawling creatures; "Thank you, for giving me a chance to make a difference!"

"We're not dying here!" the yell was Talia's, though she wasn't in the front row, but rather behind them. She could barely hold herself upright, leaning heavily on Brelyna even as the Dunmer was healing wounds he'd not seen her sustain; "M-move aside!"

He could barely hear what she said, but Caridin's approach was not a subtle one.

"Bring your wounded onto me, Wardens!" there was little arguing with the Paragon, even as no one immediately had the hands free to actually comply. Aedan didn't like the idea, bringing both their downed comrades out of the protective ring and closer to the swarming foe. Finally, the Khajiit was the one to carry out the order, lifting both the unconscious Templar and the small Circle mage onto the golem's massive frame; "They seem endless in numbers, don't they?"

"That rhetorical?" Aedan muttered to himself, aware no one could hear him over the noise. The paragon was moving up now, forcing them to step aside by his sheer presence alone. A moving tower of steel and wrath was not something you tried stopping once in motion.

"Bask in the warmth of Orzammar's Queen!" Caridin bellowed. Scalding steam and liquid fire belched from his gauntlets, dousing everything before the golem in hot death. The roar of fire overpowered everything else, and for several, long moments, it was all he could comprehend. The world was split in everything behind and ahead of Caridin, with the latter turning from decomposing muck into a sea of fire, whereupon nothing could step or crawl without itself being consumed; "The Aeducans send their regards, Darkspawn!"

Fire, really, had a beauty all its own. Aedan had come to this conclusion several times during the Blight, but it was the first time since fighting at Denerim that he truly recognized it again. To a Grey Warden, and really anyone, the shrieks of dying Darkspawn was among the sweetest of sounds. Caridin swept his arcs lazily from side to side, bathing every inch of the screaming masses in runic fire and steam. For how long it went on, he couldn't tell, only that when the Paragon finally ended his assault, there was nothing more alive on the ground before them.

A total, deathly silence reigned, interrupted only by the occasional pop whenever blisters would burst on the boiled skin of the Darkspawn larvae. Soon enough they stopped, leaving the cave in actual, honest silence.

J'zargo, coughing, was the first to break the silence this time.

"...damn."

"I'll say." Talia muttered, releasing an obvious sigh of relief. Caridin had once again made it clear just how the dwarves had managed to retake their old Thaig so quickly. The Paragon was a monster, one he felt grateful to have on their side; "I take back everything bad I've ever said about the dwarves."

"There is much to be ashamed of, amongst the dwarves." Caridin noted, striding forward; "Though not of our craftsmanship."

"Right..." she nodded, maybe taken aback by the response. Aedan himself felt shaken, his limps trembling in the aftermath of the fight. It struck him that even as Grey Wardens, none of them were immune to the fear Darkspawn would inspire, even now. It was thanks to Caridin, that they all yet lived, and it seemed a realization shared by the rest of their group.

It was a terrifying sensation that hit him, enveloping him like a cold, damp rag. If not for Caridin, even if they had managed to kill the Mother, likely none of the would have made it out of that resulting swarm. Talia might, if she were to change her shape, but then she would have been too massive to actually leave, and the swarms would eventually overwhelm her.

"You appear troubled, Warden." It was a moment before he realized Caridin had addressed him, even though the Paragon walked ahead. It was strange but, could Caridin sense these things, or was it that his vision did not rely on the eye-slits in his helm? "Does victory not please you?"

Aedan didn't answer, not immediately. He wondered, what to even say to such a question. Of course he was relieved they'd won, and without a single death amongst them to boot. But at the same time, the Architect had escaped them and now he was starting to worry Carver, Sten and Caridin himself had been right, that they could not trust in such a creature.

Now, there was no sign of him, nor of the aid he had promised them if they worked together against the Mother. What had the damn creature even wanted with them, in the first place? He'd done nothing to aid against the Mother, and had to have known they were already coming here with her death in mind, so it couldn't be that he wanted to convince them to kill her. It all just seemed like unnecessary effort from the Architect's side, unless he was simply making up excuses to watch their fight, and to see if they would win or lose.

And once more, that thought brought him back to the lumbering Paragon, ceaselessly striding through the withering substances, crushing the charred bodies underfoot as he went. It was useless to attempt not to walk on their broken, boiled bodies, and there was not an inch of the ground not covered by them. The rest of the group did much the same, a silent spectacle as the near-death situation just before had left little mood for banter.

"...I'm worried it wouldn't have been victory without you." He admitted at last, aware that attention from the others was on his words; "Less of a worry, actually...More of a realization."

"There is no shame in accepting the aid of comrades, young one." The slaughtering of Darkspawn in untold numbers seemed to have brightened the Paragon's mood; "Even your Order has never been capable of combating the Blight entirely on its own."

Caridin was right, of course, and Aedan couldn't offer much of an argument against the golem's words. Still, another doubt lingered in his mind, gnawing away. Caridin was a construct, even if his soul was that of a dwarf. It was still the dwarves that had built the golem, and done so well enough that he was worth more than any non-magical Grey Warden. Just like the Empire, with their flying mages and airships, he couldn't escape the feeling that Grey Wardens were losing their importance in the fight against the Darkspawn.

Was it relief he felt?

Was he relieved that the Empire's arrival, and the resurgence of the Dwarves might spell the end of an era stretching back almost as far as recorded history? That common soldiers would soon enough replace them, with weapons of war that would render the Darkspawn's crude instruments no more threatening than common beasts? What could Darkspawn blades do when battlemages free from the threat of possession, could blow them apart in fiery spectacles from afar, or simply swoop from the skies like birds of prey?

What role would Grey Wardens have, then, if such an age was about to be upon them? What would it mean for those already Grey Wardens, who now had to go through their shortened lives, knowing their sacrifices weren't really needed anymore?

What would it mean for him, or for Talia? He looked to her, his wife conversing quietly with Brelyna a few feet behind him. He couldn't make out the words, and wondered for a moment if it was the Dunmeri tongue that she sometimes used with her near-sister. While Brelyna seemed untainted by the blood soaked into her robes, Talia looked as if she had rolled about in it, scratches and bruises covering what skin she showed, while her hair was a mess of caked blood and filth.

He knew she hated being a Grey Warden, and with the bulging of her abdomen visible even through the chainmail and thick robes, he was starting to share her thoughts. She wasn't even fully a Grey Warden anymore, not after Hakkon had apparently purged her of the taint, and yet still she fought with them, because...because what? Did she feel she bound by the Joining, even now? It made him want to grab and shake her, to yell that she shouldn't be anywhere near combat now. That she should be safe, that he would make sure she was safe. It should have been a bit of funny irony, considering the powers she wielded. But when he saw that bulging stomach, all he could see was how vulnerable she was, and it far overshadowed her strength. One lucky slash, or stab...

The thought that they were endangering their unborn child by embarking on this kind of mission, heedlessly throwing themselves at the Darkspawn like they were back during the Blight made a wave of nausea roll up his throat. The Blight was over, the Mother was dead, and the Architect hopefully fled somewhere far away. Others could deal with him. Others could pick up the charge they had carried so far.

Highever called, and they had earned the peace.

Funny thing though, he could have sworn they'd already earned it after the Blight.


This more or less marks the end of the first half of the book (which is a surprise because it means I could actually stick to the plan). Hopefully, Talia can be allowed some rest at her second home in Highever, and everything can be peaceful and happpily ever after.