"I'm not sure how to break it to you, Dori, but I believe your mother may have actually wanted a daughter."
Two weeks had passed since Aquinea and Halward's visit to Skyhold. Elenora had elected to distract herself from her magic problem as well as Samson's presence in the keep by taking a short trip to the Hinterlands. Sera griped and moaned the entire time, complaining that the excursion to collect herbs for the healers was boring and uneventful, but that was rather the point: Dorian had only just recovered from his wounds at the Arbor Wilds and was growing restless from being cooped up in Skyhold. Elenora, therefore, wrestled together Vivienne and Sera to run errands, the red-haired elf hoping that the good company would cheer Dorian up. They met a few bandits on the roads, giving Dorian the chance to stretch his magical muscles, bringing up barriers and blasting renegade rogues with fireballs as if the events at the Temple of Mythal had never taken place. It gave Elenora the chance to fight with daggers alone, allowing her to pretend she'd never even learned magic to begin with.
Now that a day had passed since their return from the flatlands, Elenora had a chance to go through the numerous ornately wrapped packages from Tevinter. There was all manner of dresses, robes, jewelry, heraldry, and wine, topped off with a sprawling letter in impossibly fine calligraphy welcoming the elf into the family.
"Oh I know as much," Dorian finally responded, plucking a spun-gold collar from the pile and beginning to fix it upon Tilly's neck. "She told me she hoped for twins at one point. Wanted a boy and a girl, but wanted more to be done with her nightly duties with my father. She had me and that was the end of that."
"A shame, really. Imagine how much more flamboyant a Dorienne would have been."
"Perish the thought! I have enough pride and fashion sense for a fleet of daughters. Though I am glad to see my mother can finally indulge in this side of herself."
Elenora pulled out a black cloak with a massive high-necked metal collar, the whole thing made with and trimmed in gold, a massive glittering snake winding down the back. She fumbled with the collar for a time before Dorian helped her put it on, revealing that she was attempting to put it on backwards.
"So," Dorian began now that she was literally cornered, "I notice you've been avoiding the issue of your magic being blocked."
Elenora slumped slightly.
"I...I am. I'd have to face down a Holy Smite to fix it. I confess I'm not quite ready to do so... but I have to. Today, before danger presents itself and I'm unable to help to the fullest of my capabilities."
"Cassandra is to do it, yes?"
"Well she was but... I'm asking Cullen. I trust Cassandra with it but it's hard to explain. It's giving over a piece of myself that makes me, well, me."
"I quite understand. I've been smited once, not a fun experience."
"Really?" Elenora replied, walking over to her mirror to observe herself in the billowing cloak. "When? I'd never noticed you fall in battle."
"It was years ago, when my father...tried to change me. The coward couldn't face me head on so he sent hired goons instead. There was a templar amongst them. I was a formidable mage even then so he had to perform a Smite to take me down. Just one other thing on a long list of things I'll never forgive my father for."
"Remind me to send your father a fruit basket laced with bees."
"Taking notes from our dear Red Jenny, are we?"
"Maybe..." Elenora replied, eyes dancing with mischief. "What was it like? Being cut off like that?"
"Nothing like being Silenced or Dispelled. Those you come back from relatively quickly. Being Smited... it's like the moment you throw yourself awake after a nightmare in the Fade. Out of sorts, slightly ill, no concept of time or reality. It's...not something I wish on anyone," Dorian sighed, wincing.
"Lovely. I'm sure to have a wonderful time this afternoon, then."
Elenora collapsed onto her bed, stars dancing behind her eyes as she pressed herself into the duvet. The entire prospect of this sounded horrible, but then as the days wore on, so did the idea of having her magic permanently locked within herself. It was easy to ignore the dull ache and nausea the first day, but even she had to admit that this was causing quite the issue. She'd sworn to Cassandra and Solas that it wouldn't affect her ability to lead the Inquisition, but now it was. Swinging daggers in the Hinterlands was much harder than it should have been, the spinning and leaping that usually caused her joy now causing her disorientation, vomit threatening to overtake her. At night, as the wandered the Fade, more demons came to her, some getting too close for comfort. It was beyond time to handle this, and she knew, but each time she approached Cassandra to Smite her, the memory of the Seeker in the Fade had her fleeing back to her chambers.
With a heavy sigh, Elenora pushed herself back off the bed, steeling her resolve.
"Okay...okay. I'm going now before I can talk myself out of it for the hundredth time."
"Be brave, amatus. Once your magic is returned you'll ask yourself why you didn't do it sooner."
/
Elenora hugged herself against the wall of Cullen's chambers as he spoke to a few templars. Ser Barris was among them, one of the lucky few to escape Corypheus and his plans. Cullen was using the Inquisition's influence to place Barris at the head of Templar command, something Elenora approved of wholeheartedly since the man treated mages like people who needed protecting, not abominations that others needed protecting from.
As the men finally left the room, she swept in, being sure to lock the three doors to the office.
"My offer for you to move things into my room still stands, you know," Elenora grunted as she locked the final door, the one by the bookcase that always gave her trouble. "Surely our commander deserves some semblance of privacy."
"Tempting as your offer was, it's better that I remain accessible to my men and any visiting dignitaries" Cullen replied, wincing at the last bit as he remembered how shrewdly Leliana had reintroduced him to a handsy noble from Halamshiral.
"That's my little lion, always thinking of others first," Elenora giggled, letting Cullen pull her close.
"Little?" Cullen cried in mock offense. "Pray tell, Lady Inquisitor, just what about me is little?" He punctuated the last word by rolling his hips against the Inquisitor's, earning a gasp and a playful slap on the arm.
"Quit it, you! I didn't come up here to be manhandled by Andraste's choir boy turned soldier!"
Cullen pulled away, laughing at Elenora's indignation. She started to grin back, but it faltered as she remembered why she was there.
"Something's wrong."
It wasn't a question, it was a statement. A true one, at that, as Elenora was beginning to resemble a halla trapped between a hunter and their bow.
"At Mythal's Temple... one of the Sentinels...took my magic from me."
Cullen was back on her in an instant, hands about her face, eyes searching hers and, for a moment far too long, locked on the center of her forehead.
"No!" Elenora choked out, seeing where his mind was going. "Not Tranquil. I mean... well I suppose he rather tried. Solas said it's the elves' closest thing to it, but he didn't finish the spell. Now my magic is just... off course. It's sort of locked into place, keeping me from accessing it." Without causing myself immense pain, she finished in her head, not wanting to alarm Cullen any further.
"You've been in this state this long? Is there nothing that can be done for it?"
Elenora took in a long, steadying breath.
"Solas and Morrigan believe that if I'm fully cut off from magic, we can right the flow of it. We tried a Silence, it wasn't enough. I even got Vivienne to Dispel my magic on the road one night. That also didn't work. Solas says we need something stronger, a lot stronger. So—"
"A Smite," Cullen finished, sighing.
"You see why I wasn't eager to fix this sooner."
"If there's nothing else for it, it will have to be done. If you want to do this now, I suggest we head up the ladder. It's possible to faint and I don't want you hitting stone after I cast it."
The idea of being concussed after being cut off from the Fade was enough to make Elenora swoon in and of itself, but she was distracted by the rest of Cullen's reply: after I cast it.
"Cassandra was going to do it." She blurted out. "I didn't want to worry you with this, though I would prefer greatly if you were the one to— I'm babbling."
She sighed, trying to ignore the somewhat amused look Cullen bore.
"This was supposed to be more difficult, I thought this would be some soul wrenching decision between hurting me and helping me. Or worse that it'd remind you of Kirkwall. I didn't expect you to—"
A kiss, sweet and chaste, stopped Elenora's word vomit. Cullen pulled back, stroking a calloused thumb over her bottom lip.
"I take no pleasure in the idea of causing you any pain, but if I know anything of magic, having it locked within you must be agony. Let me help you."
Elenora was hesistant, but began shuffling toward the ladder under Cullen's insistence. The lump in her throat grew as she approached the bed, standing with the back of her knees pressed to the edge so she'd fall back easily.
"So how does this work?"
"It's as I said, I'll cast and you're likely to be rendered unconscious. I'll be sure to have a healer and potions for you when you come to. Best we get this over with."
Elenora could tell Cullen, too, was nervous, as much as he tried to reassure her. She stood on her toes, placing one last kiss on his lips before she nodded at him.
"I trust you. Do it."
For a moment the Cullen of Kirkwall stared back at her, expression stony. Before she could react, a sound like stone slamming stone rang in her ears, all the air leaving her lungs at once, room swimming as she fell back, everything going black.
/
Sugar. Sugar was the first thing she smelled. The sound of warm laughter and clinking glasses followed. Then the sensation of soft sheets under her hands. Elenora rose slowly, feeling rather like a newborn halla taking its first steps. As the room finally stopped spinning she could tell she was no longer in Cullen's room, but her childhood room in the Free Marches.
She was home.
Something nagged at her, something was horribly wrong, but she couldn't place it, brain still foggy from...from what? What happened before this? What brought her here? The last thing she could remember was the Keeper ordering her to spy on the Conclave, but everything else was fuzzy. Who was Cullen, then, and why was she expecting to wake up in his room?
Slowly she walked downstairs, taking in the familiar sights of her family's stone tower in Aravel Atish'an— loosely translated in the common tongue as The Carriage's Rest. It was a small keep by most standards, only meant as a resting place for Elvhen travellers some thousands of years ago, but Clan Lavellan called it home, the crown jewel of their lands in the hills of the Marches. Only the highest families lived in its walls, the rest living in smaller houses in surrounding it, Elenora's family being one of the few to live in the keep. The stone walls were covered in ancient banners: Orlais, Arlathan, and, though Elenora never noticed until now, a tiny one for Tevinter, tucked away in a corner where most would miss it. That banner was new, however, and she couldn't quite place why that made her heart swell. The northerners were monsters, were they not? Surely they had no place in her heart.
As she finally reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw her mother, bent over their kitchen table, placing fresh baked cookies onto a display plate. Beside her, a handsome blonde human was already tucking in, muttering something that made her mother howl with laughter. At first she was alarmed by the shem's presence, half expecting her father to fly into the room and beat her senseless for even being near the man, but the fear settled as she remembered, he's dead.
But he hadn't been dead just the day before? How could he be? Before Elenora could puzzle the thought any longer, the man crossed the room, covering her in crumby, sticky kisses. She tensed, but then the smell of him— pine and sword polish, snow and hay— made her relax. Cullen. My Cullen.
Slowly, but painfully, memories seeped back into her mind. The Conclave. The Mark. The Inquisition. Haven. Dorian. Solas. Cullen. Adamant. Halamshiral. The Arbor Wilds.
There was something about the last one, but it only came in pieces. Something happened there, something that lead to her being here, but every time her mind reached for the answer, she felt further away.
"Elle, I'm glad you're awake."
His voice rumbled in her ears, eclipsing all other thought. He was here, in her home, with her mother. Tears made their way to her eyes, threatening to spill. This was her family, together. The only thing missing was—
A door one flight lower opened, another voice calling up.
"Do forgive my lateness, Tilly simply could not be plied from bed this morning."
"Was it Tilly that couldn't get out of bed, or a certain handsome Altus?" Evara returned to the new voice.
Dorian crested the stairs, white kitten in arm, Fairbanks just behind him. He wasted little time placing a kiss on Evara's cheek and snatching a cookie from where she was neatly stacking them in a tower.
"If you all keep eating them there won't be enough for the rest of the clan!"
"We'll just have to make another batch," Fairbanks said, also stealing a cookie and avoiding being swatted with a wooden spoon.
"Well alright, if everyone is here, it's all hands on deck! Cullen, bring me the sack of flour from downstairs. Dorian, the oven is giving me trouble, can you light it again? And Fairbanks, be a dear and fetch more wood to burn. Elenora you come help me crack more eggs. Tilly...you just sit there and look precious, okay?"
They all set about their tasks, Elenora feeling like fainting from joy more and more by the second. Her family. The one she made for herself. In one place. How had this happened? When did it happen?
"Nice that the world is finally quiet enough for moments like this with Corypheus gone," Gwhen'Evara sighed, washing her hands to start a new batch of cookies.
"Corypheus is gone?"
"Of course, you silly girl! But oh, you had such a nasty fever the last few days, you're likely still coming to. Maybe best you don't touch the food. Just have a seat at the table I'll catch you back up."
Elenora sat at the table, eating cookies as her mother filled her in. Corypheus fell. The Inquisition decided to disband before they, too, fell to corruption. She and Cullen married, moving to The Free Marches where they would be close and opening a Templar clinic. The rest of the Rutherfords visited often, as well as other members of the Inquisition, especially Dorian and Fairbanks, whom had taken to living in Fairbank's ancestral estate in Orlais.
"Oh the cold is something awful, and you know I've no love for Orlesians," Dorian sighed as he helped Fairbanks load the oven, "But for him? Anything."
"You're too kind, my love."
Something about Fairbank's voice bothered Elenora a great deal. It was high and haughty, too accented from what she remembered. Everthing about what her mother told her was wondrous: the world was at peace. She had everything she ever wanted laid out before her, and yet something was so...off. None of this felt real, and still she couldn't remember getting here.
Dorian re-lit the oven, and the crackling of magic caught her offguard. But the smell... under the heady scent of sugar and flame was ozone. The air was thick with it, settling over her oppressively. It reminded her painfully of—
The Fade
This wasn't real. It couldn't be. This had to be a very elaborate Fade-ruse, but if it was, she was too weak to wake herself or pull the vision apart at the seams. She needed something more concrete, for the things parading around as her family to reveal themselves. She needed to get them to slip up, to make a mistake even they would realize they couldn't cover. Fairbanks' accent could easily be excused away by saying they were spending more time in Orlais. What would a Fade spirit not know about the group?
"Mama, where is father?" Elenora asked innocently, waiting to see a reaction.
"Was the fever that bad, my dear? He's gone. The Venatori took him."
Elenora had to keep her face from slipping. That memory was too obvious, of course they'd know.
Cullen returned with the massive sack of flour, placing it at Evara's feet before washing his hands, ready to jump in.
"How is the clinic, darling? I can't remember how things were going before I got sick."
"Really well! We took in two more men from Orlais just last week. Dorian sent them our way."
"Ah. Have any of our friends come to visit the clinic?"
"Blackwall was the last. Josephine before that, offered some of her connections to keep us funded. Cassandra means to visit as well."
"That's sweet of them. Any word from Bull or Sera? What about Viv?"
"Sera actually joined up with the Chargers if you'd believe it. The Jennies and Chargers have been doing great work together," Dorian pipped up. "Vivienne is serving as Celine's enchantress now that Morrigan has left. She's been busy, but she writes."
"That's wonderful! Good for Viv!"
Elenora was wearing thin. The illusion they were keeping up was actually plausible, if not too good to be true, but there had to be something.
She returned to Fairbanks, the weakest part of the ruse.
"What became of your friends in the Inquisition, Fairbanks?"
"They're working on my estate now, under my protection."
"They're lucky to have someone like you. I don't know what any of us would have done if you hadn't saved Dorian from that giant all that time ago."
"It was nothing, I'd have done anything for my Dorian, even then."
"Anything? Like, save him from a dragon?"
"If the occasion called for it, yes, though I'd like to avoid it."
"Really? Because as I recall, it was a dragon you saved him from, not a giant. Anyone in this room should have called you out on that."
Fairbanks' grin fell. Dorian, Cullen, and Evara all stopped what they were doing, staring at Elenora.
"Well spotted," 'Cullen' hissed. The room grew horribly hot, all their bodies shuddering, horns emerging from their foreheads, skin turning purple. Even Tilly changed form into a tiny horned beast.
Desire demons. All of them.
"You couldn't just leave well enough alone, could you?" The demon pretending to be her mother snapped. "Everything you could ever ask for right in front of you, and still you question. We could give you this, truly. Just give in. Why go back to your real life? All that death and strife—"
"Thedas needs me," Elenora snapped back. "I can't just leave on a whim because I'd rather play house. And now that I know this is all a farce, I'll think I'll be going back."
"Oh no you won't!"
They leapt for her, chasing her back up the stairs in a chorus of gnashing teeth and claws. She tried to get the fade to stretch around her, to open a way out or wake up, but she could not, still too weak. The room was a dead end, and she turned to face the demons slowly approaching her.
"Should have let us make it real," Dorian's doppelganger hissed. "Now we'll just have to tear you to shreds. Should be fun."
Elenora squoze her eyes shut, willing with everything she had to wake up or at least be able to defend herself. Something surged within her, something great and terrible, but also familiar. Something strong enough to get her out of this trap. She opened her eyes, grin stretching across her face.
"Fun indeed."
A massive rift opened above the demons, lightning striking them down as Elenora cackled.
It was back. Her magic was back.
She didn't stop there, conjuring flames, burning everything in sight in the false room, tearing the lies apart and flexing her mana. She was herself again, she was whole again. Though it pained her to realize that the wonderful life the demons dreamed up for her might never come to pass, she felt relief in the fact she'd be ready to go back to the waking world feeling like herself.
"It will be real someday," She whispered to herself and the ash covered tower. "I'll make it real."
/
Actually waking up was far worse than waking up in the Fade. Nausea swept over the Inquisitor in wave after wave until she keened, tossing her head over the edge of Cullen's bed and retching into a conveniently placed bucket. Clearly Cullen was more than experienced with the effects of the Holy Smite.
"Elle! Are you alright?"
"Yeah, just puking my guts out for shits and giggles. A truly enjoyable experience, really," She responded to Cullen's rather distant-sounding voice. She smiled tightly, doing her best to let Cullen know she meant no ill before vomiting again.
"Is she going to be like this much longer?"
"Coming back from a Smite that strong is...harrowing to say the least. I'm surprised she was only out for an hour."
"I'm lucky to have never been in a situation where this was deemed necessary by our Templars. Darling men and women really, they were excellent at diffusing tensions."
"Ah yes, such a wonderful gilded cage, the Orlesian Circles. Considering how serious amatus's case was, I'm glad we had a merciless Ferelden ex-Templar to crush the magic out of her."
"Dorian, please—"
"It's alright Josephine, I took no offense. You may want to head back down the ladder, though, I can hear Bull and Blackwall causing a scene from here."
"Arrows sharp and ready, 'This one is going straight IN the commander's arse. This one is going straight UP it.'"
"Thanks kid, I'll go calm our favorite Red Jenny down. Can't have our Curly maimed while the Inquisitor is incapacitated."
"I've sent a bird down to Morrigan, she's on her way."
"Thank you, Leliana."
"Of course."
Elenora still hadn't opened her eyes, but the cacophony of voices was doing nothing for her pounding headache. She threw her hands over her face, groaning loudly.
"I think it's best those of us not essential take our leave." This was Cassandra's voice, cutting above the din. There was shuffling as her numerous visitors left, and finally she could open her eyes. Cullen was the first person she saw, looking utterly pale and worried. Next was Dorian and Vivienne, standing close, hands locked together, staring down at her like worried parents. Solas was the last, looking calm, appraising her form. He spoke first.
"Cullen summoned us after you fainted. Evidently attacked by demons while wandering the fade. How are you feeling now?"
Elenora sat up with Cullen's assistance, still dizzy, but most of the nausea fading quickly. She took a deep, steadying breath, surprised to find that even with the headache and dizziness she felt...good. Better than good: strong, almost as strong as she'd felt burning down the tower in the Fade. She raised the hand that didn't bare the anchor, snapping her fingers and summoning a sphere of fire. It was unlike her magic from before— somewhat wild and underdeveloped. This was a steady flow, the flame burning white, painful to look at. She dispelled it with barely a thought, the grin she wore in the fade returning.
"I feel like me, again. It worked. Sweet Andraste, it worked."
"Fascinating. It seems not only was the flow of your magic restored, but the Smite may have also ridden you of any other blocks holding your magic back."
"No."
It was Cullen, shaking his head fervently.
"The Smite restored her magic, but coming back stronger? That's Elle's doing. Whatever she fought in the Fade, that made her stronger."
Elenora patted the hand Cullen had placed on her shoulder, feeling warm. Morrigan had finally reached Cullen's chambers, seeming weary with the entire scene.
"And just what was it that the Lady Inquisitor conquered in the fade?"
"Fear," Elenora replied before she could stop herself. "There were desire demons, five of them. I took care of the lot of them, but I don't think they really grasped what they showed me. It was everything I'd ever wanted, a perfect life... but it wasn't really about what I desired. It was my fear that it would never be real, that it would only ever exist in the fade, drawn up by demons. I know better now. I've shaped much of Thedas as the Inquisitor, why can't I form my dream of the future too? I've already made my family," She said, chest swelling as she looked back and forth between Dorian, Cullen, and Vivienne. "Who says I can't take down Corypheus and get everyone their happily ever after, too?"
Cullen swooped down, placing a kiss on her cheek, pressing his forehead to hers. It was such a small moment, but one Elenora would hold dear for years to come. The Fade sugarcoated the future she wanted— too perfect, too easy. No, to get even close to that, they'd have to fight. There would be blood and strife, but it would be worth it, and it would be real.
"Touching as this is, the Inquisitor's poor health has caused a fair bit of panic throughout Skyhold. If you're well enough to stand, 'tis best you tell your campanions that you're fairning better."
"What happened?"
Cullen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"As Solas said, you were...fitful after you fell into the fade. Screaming, actually. A few of our companions ran in to check on you. I couldn't really explain what was happening and after I told them I'd Smited you..."
"Shit. Right. I'll go calm down the masses."
Elenora's legs still felt rather like jelly as she rose from the bed, climbing down the ladder at a painfully slow pace, gripping each rung so hard her knuckles turned pale. When she threw open the door to Cullen's tower, several of her friends tumbled in, clearly having been pressed against the door to try to listen in.
"My lady," Blackwall started, drawing his sword, "we heard the Commander renderedyou unconcious. What—"
"It's alright Blackwall! It's alright everyone, I'm fine. I asked the commander to Smite me."
After meeting several puzzled faces, Elenora began explaining what had passed between Mythal's temple and that moment. As everyone slowly started to relax she couldn't help but feel both proud and loved. These people had her backs, even if it meant cutting down their beloved Commander. One by one they began to depart, satisfied that Cullen had not, in fact, attacked their Lady Herald. As Sera stumbled off, muttering that she'd still have an arrow ready for Cullen if he did ever hurt the Inquisitor, Morrigan approached.
"If that's taken care of, there's another matter that acquires your attention. If you are well enough, that is."
"I am. Still a bit shaky, but after all this I'm ready to get back to business. What can I do for you?"
Morrigan's face fell for a moment, so quick anyone may have missed it before she settled back into her usual look of distant apathy.
"It's my son, Kieran. He journeyed through the Eluvian. He may be in danger as we speak, but before I could follow him through, your commander asked me to be sure you were alright."
"If Kieran is unsafe that's of the utmost importance. I'll get my staff, meet me by the Eluvian in five minutes."
Worry flashed across Morrigan's face, followed by relief.
"Thank you Inquisitor. That means a great deal to me."
/
Elenora had reached a point in her life where if everything she thought she knew wasn't being upended every half an hour, she'd be worried. Kieran had passed through the Eluvian back to another shrine to Mythal, joined by none other than Flemeth herself.
Except Flemeth wasn't just Flemeth. She was also Mythal.
Elenora felt her vallaslin may set on fire the entire time Morrigan and Flemeth argued, wishing she could do more than just stand there, magically frozen by Morrigan's hand as the witch begged for the return of her son. Ultimately, Flemeth relented, returning the boy, but taking the soul of the Old God he carried with him. She had turned to leave, promising that Morrigan had never been in any danger from her when Elenora cried out for her to stop. She did, turning back to the elf with a arched brow.
"If it's as you say," Elenora rasped, trying to stop her voice from shaking, "if you are Mythal...then please... I'm marked for you. I have prayed to you, asked that my loved ones return from battle safely, begged that we might take Corypheus down... Please... I need to know...Will we? Will we succeed against him?"
Flemeth considered the question for a moment, then her strange, smirking smile returned.
"My dear girl, I have heard your cries. You will be tested, against Corypheus, against even those you consider friends. Know that you have been given no task nor hardship in life that you could not handle. Be strong, child."
Before Elenora could ask anything else, she vanished.
/
Dinner in the main hall passed in a blur of clinking plates and glasses. Elenora wasn't sure when she'd moved from the main tower to Herald's Rest, and certainly hadn't kept track of how much gold she'd lost to Josephine as they played Wicked Grace, but she didn't care. Everyone was there, both her inner circle and her advisors, Cullen by her side hiccuping and laughing, his head resting on her shoulder. She felt impossibly warm and whole as she regarded them all: Blackwall and Bull were howling with laughter at one of Varric's tales. Leliana and Josephine were sharing gossip about a rather unfortunate bard they'd both had run ins with in Orlais. Dorian and Vivienne were locked in conversation about an apostate they met at Halamshiral who was proving to be quite the asset to the Inquisition's agents. Fairbanks and Cassandra were complaining to each other about nobles living fat off of their land and family names. Most surprising of all was Solas, Cole, and Sera, tucked together discussing the finer points of unusual battle tactics, specifically the use of bees. As unfortunate the circumstances were with the end of Thedas hanging over their heads, their strange, haphazard group had come to truly be family, and the thought brought a tear to Elenora's eye, one which Cullen sweetly wiped away.
All the warm sentiment and good cheer in the room dropped in an instant as Scout Harding burst into bar, dripping in sweat, eyes full of fear.
"Corypheus," she gasped, "at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. He—"
There was an earth shattering boom outside, causing everyone to rush outside and stare into the sky above.
There, in all it's green horror, was the Breach.
The end had begun.