XVIII: The Arrival of the Dawn
It had been hours since the siege of Haven by the Elder One and Cullen hardly spent a moment waiting like most of his cohorts and counterparts. When he and the other leaders of the Inquisition believed they were a safe distance from Corypheus, the refugees made quick work of establishing a camp and the only thing left to do was wait for any sign of the Herald. For the first couple of hours, Cullen remained vigilantly perched at the edge of the camp and posted himself there, hoping to see any sign of Kassandra's triumph… or her untimely demise. The latter option caused a red-hot slice of pain to rip through Cullen's stomach, reminding him of his early days of lyrium withdrawals characterized by pain that made him contemplate if he were better off dead or crawling back to the substance that enslaved him. The pain was still there but it was eclipsed by his distracted state, managing to be an annoyance rather than a hindrance.
After a while, Cullen found himself discontent with waiting around for a sign and the agony threatened to consume him entirely. So, he pulled aside some of the companions with the intention of organizing a search party. He pulled aside those who seemed similarly restless and Varric, who he knew forged a close friendship with Kassandra, to discuss the idea of a search party.
"She would do the same if it were one of us." Varric remarked and Cullen knew he was right. In his mind, Cullen could see those eyes of hers—stormy blue with the tendency to twinkle like a pair of burgeoning, breathtaking stars. Her laugh echoed in his mind, sweet and melodic, but the thought that she was out there alone caused the sound to haunt him. He, Varric, Cassandra, and the Iron Bull informed Leliana and Josephine of their intentions and departed from the camp without lingering behind to hear the protests that they should stay and wait. Whether they found Kassandra buried under the rocks in Haven and it took days to retrieve her, they would. She deserved more than to be left behind and a proper burial; Cullen would see to it himself if he had to.
They began trekking up the steep, snowy hill they traveled with Chancellor Roderick guiding them to safety. Cullen regretted not fighting harder to stay behind, but Kassandra insisted she needed to stop Corypheus without endangering any life aside from her own. None of the companions complained when Cullen insisted he takes point as they could see the distressed gleam in his eye and that told a thousand tales of guilt, regret, and worry. Cullen passed a torch he grabbed before departing the camp to Lady Cassandra standing behind him, needing someone to illuminate the way. The flame carried a decent radius of light and the search party ambled together through the snowy night, some with more hope than others. Midway through their march, Cullen swore he heard matching footsteps to a different rhythm just over the crest of the hill. Around the third time he encountered that sound, Cullen could no longer keep himself back. Without warning, he dashed ahead of his companions to their confusion and rocketed toward the crest of the hill. W
He felt the breath knocked out of his lungs when he reached the apex of the hill where he threw the flare mere hours before and he nearly fell onto his knees. By the Maker, he could hardly believe his eyes when he saw Kassandra staring back at him with tears brimming in her eyes; she was bruised and bleeding but alive. When he watched the mountain fall on Haven, his heart sank like a stone in water and his throat closed when wondering the possibilities of her making it out alive. The chances were slim, and Cullen feared the worst for Kassandra. Never in his imagination would he have ever considered Kassandra braving her way through the storm after escaping death. She was alive, but the battle was not won yet. He called back to his companions that he found her and he heard Lady Cassandra's praise to the Maker, but Cullen felt tunnel vision overcome him to where all other noised faded to muteness in the background. Without delay, Cullen sprinted to Kassandra and watched as she crumpled into the snow after calling out his name. His boots crunched through the white, ice mush as he staggered to Kassandra, lying unconscious.
"Hold on," Cullen whispered as he sank to his knees before her, gritting his jaw and scooping Kassandra into his arms. He grunted when he touched her bare skin through a tear in her clothes; she was as cold as ice. Feeling her shiver and whimper in his arms steeled Cullen's determination. Cullen rose to his feet with the Herald securely held in his arms and sprinted back to the Inquisition camp. He passed by Cassandra, Varric, and the Iron Bull, who comprised the little search party he assembled to soothe his mind without so much as a word. As he hurtled toward the makeshift camp the fleeing Inquisition slapped together, Cullen banished all the raging emotions clouding his mind from clarity when he needed absolute, untainted focus. His relief at Kassandra's return, his unspeakable anger directed toward the Elder One, his worries about keeping the Inquisition afloat, and his past fears about losing Kassandra underneath the crushing weight of the mountain were all shoved to the side to focus on the task at hand: keeping Kassandra alive. He managed to glance down at Kassandra in between labored breaths and somehow doubled his quickened pace when he noticed the pain written on her face. Seeing her like this, so pale and empty compared to her lively disposition, made Cullen swallow roughly. There was this magnetizing aura that Kassandra possessed that drew people to her. Cullen found himself beguiled closer than he should appropriately be on many occasions. Without it, there was something missing. Before they shut, her eyes were filled with horror and pain that Cullen might never forget… no matter how hard he tried to. Breathing hard, Cullen swiftly approached the borders of the camp and he noted how close help was.
"The Commander has returned—and he has the Herald with him!" One of the soldiers guarding the perimeter bellowed for all to hear and his declaration set forth an instantaneous chain of events. The refugees, hearing the Herald was there, poured out from the camp in massive clusters with shock and frenzy breaking throughout their ranks. People rushed from all areas of the camp as the soldier's declaration carried across the vast mountain walls like an echo. Some of the refugees were crying while others were stunned into silence, witnessing all together as the Commander of the Inquisition arrived at the foot of the camp with the Herald of Andraste in his arms.
"She survived?"
"It's a miracle!"
"The Maker has blessed her!"
"She truly is the Herald of Andraste as she walks with Andraste's guidance."
A flurry of whispers rang out from the crowd and the refugees slowly circled around Cullen and Kassandra, surrounding them from all sides. Some of the refugees reached out to touch Kassandra with the lofty hopes that the Maker's blessing over her, which many assumed delivered her from death, might affect their lives and bring much-needed prosperity. Using his imposing figure, Cullen shielded Kassandra from the sea of prying hands and shoved his way through with an evident sense of urgency. However, there were too many people surrounding them and pushing inward in a suffocating manner.
"Enough! Back away!" Cullen roared over the hushed whispers and a wave of silence rippled through the crowd, ceasing all noise from the refugees. Those reaching out to touch Kassandra retracted their hands nervously, not wanting to further anger the Lion of Fereldan. Cullen's amber eyes glowed in the dusky setting of the harsh winter's night and the faint light of the fire cast shadows across his fierce glare. The way he cradled Kassandra protectively against his chest was to preserve some warmth and limit her exposure to the cold, but that could only help her so much. Kassandra needed urgent medical attention from the healers or the mages on hand. "Move!" Cullen barked in a fury and the crowds parted before him, a clear path to help emerging. Cullen strode forward in a brisk march and spared a concerned glance for Kassandra, still unconscious in his arms but arguably shivering less.
From the sidelines, Leliana and Josephine and the inner circle of companions anxiously watched on while the Commander stormed past. For all those present, they knew this moment would forever change the course of the Inquisition and touch the lives of individuals within the crowd. Whether she lived or died that night, Kassandra Trevelyan's heroism would never be forgotten.
Cullen arrived outside the last empty medical tent and ducked underneath the flaps once they were opened by Mother Giselle from within. Inside, Dorian stood solemnly and hardly glanced in Cullen's direction before racing to prepare the room. From Dorian's experience, he knew time was a luxury they did not have. Mother Giselle closed the flaps of the tent to keep the bitter, wintry wind out. The room darkened and was lit with only a few candles contained in lanterns keeping the darkness from closing in. Cullen delicately lowered Kassandra onto the makeshift cot and he instinctively pressed one of his calloused hands, from years of battle and bloodshed, against her cheek to realize her skin was still ice cold.
"If I may, I can begin the process of healing her injuries. That will also manage the below normal body temperature she has." Dorian suggested from where he stood on the opposing side of the cot from Cullen and his eyes fixated on Kassandra, formulating a triage plan to tackle her injuries and ailments from her fight with the Elder One. In the corner of the room, Mother Giselle stepped forward and cleared her throat, seemingly uncomfortable with Dorian's offer. She nearly suggested that she could fetch Madame De Fer when Cullen nodded.
"Do what you must. Save her." Cullen declared as he wanted no delays in treating Kassandra for her injuries. His eyes turned downward to meet Kassandra's pale, frost-covered face and he felt his stomach twist into knots. Dorian nodded but gave Cullen a wryly arched brow when the Commander didn't move from his place by Kassandra's side.
"I am going to request that you clear the room, Commander. In order to regain a stable body temperature, I need to strip Kassandra of her wet clothing and that might encompass all of her clothes…" Dorian informed bluntly and watched as the implication attached to the end of his statement was enough to make the faintest redness creep onto Cullen's cheeks and swallow roughly. Cullen awkwardly turned to Mother Giselle, who gave him a knowing nod; she would remain here to make sure that nothing happened to Kassandra and to alert for additional help should things go awry. Wordlessly, Cullen slipped the fur mantle from his shoulders and draped the garment in Mother Giselle's arms. He walked straight out of the tent, ignored all the curious eyes fixed on him, and settled along the edge of the camp where he sank onto one knee. Clasping his hands together, Cullen bowed his head to brush his forehead against his knee in prayer. Flowing from his lips like a steady stream, Cullen recited a downright desperate prayer to the Maker. His prayer was frantic yet thorough; he hardly felt surprised that Kassandra's name left him multiple times in his prayer. She had a funny habit of doing that as of late, ending up in his prayers when his mind suddenly drifted onto her instead, whether it was her smile or her laugh or those bewitching eyes of hers that ensnared his attention away from his mandatory prayers. Cullen would never have considered himself a begging man, but that changed with Kassandra's life teetering on the edge. He begged the Maker that his servant in Kassandra, unlike himself, deserved the mercy only the most holy or blessed Andraste could provide.
"Commander- Cullen…" Cullen's head lifted from his prayer and he glanced over his shoulder, knowing Cassandra stood behind him from her distinguishing Nevarran accent. She looked somewhat apologetic and Cullen wondered how concerning his state was; Cassandra hardly made her concern visible unless someone was in terrible condition. "Leliana and Josephine wish to discuss our next moves." Cassandra informed and Cullen turned back to face the mountains flanking the Inquisition camp, sighing deeply. Cullen stood up and he hoped that his prayers were heard by the Maker because he and the Inquisition needed Kassandra.
Back in the closed-off tent, Kassandra's unconscious body laid and protected in the fur mantle gifted by Cullen for that purpose. Her face was no longer pained, and Dorian applied a warm compress to her forehead to warm up her skin. Ridding her of her wet clothing was the first step and that significantly increased her chances of survival. He frowned down at Kassandra, knowing that he did what he could for her condition and that only good fortune might determine if she made it through the night. Needing some much-needed air and some more hot water for additional warm compresses, Dorian headed out of the tent and left Kassandra alone.
All was quiet in the tent, keeping out the sound of arguing among the Inquisition's advisory council and the chorused prayers of the sisters of Haven's chantry. The Inquisition camp was stilled while they waited for their Herald, their hero, to wake up.
Standing outside Trevelyan Estate, the exquisite seaside manor she grew up in, Kassandra tapped the toe of her leather riding boots against the ground and drew her coat closer to her body. That morning would begin her journey to the Divine Conclave, a historic event for all Thedas and the hopeful cure to the Mage-Templar War. The Divine Conclave was to be held in the Frostback Mountains at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. With the backdrop of holy ground, everyone of elevated status in Thedas would be there. This was Kassandra's first trip outside of Ostwick without her parents and the prospect of some freedom was enticing to her. She was twenty-five years of age; she was a young woman in her own right.
"Are you excited about the journey?" Theo inquired while adjusting the fit of his right pauldron, inspecting his uniform as a member of the city guard for any errors. Kassandra planned on agreeing that she was quite thrilled for the prospects this journey might bring to those within the Maker's favor. This was an opportunity for Kassandra to grow in her own right, outside the Trevelyan clan. She opened her mouth to comment when the three overheard a screech. Upon further inspection, Kassandra realized it was Iva who screeched at one of the horses when it tried to munch on her unbraided hair. A slew of laughter arose from her other cousins with Peter, the youngest of the five Trevelyans on the trip, nearly tumbling from his horse's saddle with how hard he was laughing.
"Maker, preserve me." Kassandra mumbled lowly, but loud enough for her brothers to hear her and snicker in agreement. Theo and Aleksander understood the strained relationship between Iva and Kassandra all too well from numerous of uncomfortable parties where Florence and his daughter were in attendance.
"I am certain you will be fine," Theo assured Kassandra with a pat on her shoulder, which turned into a hug when Kassandra threw her arms around her brother. She and Theo were the closest of the siblings as they were a year apart in age. Theo was the one who taught her to spar and allowed her to watch his swordplay lessons until she surpassed his skills. Alec walked over and wrapped his arms around his younger siblings.
"Besides, you might charm the breeches off some people in high places and those connections will strengthen House Trevelyan." Alec remarked teasingly but Kassandra knew her brothers believed in her. They knew that she was charming and delicate, skills useful in persuasion. If anyone of the Trevelyan line might secure alliances with other families, it would be Kassandra. Kassandra's head lifted when she saw a horse being trotted out for her. Her personal mount, Aria, was feeling under the weather and Kassandra chose to let Aria stay behind and recuperate. The ride down to the docks where they would take a boat ride to Fereldan was short, but Kassandra preferred that Aria regain her strength for their regular trips through the Ostwick wilderness and along the white sand shores of the beaches. Her brothers escorted her to where her horse was held by her parents. Kassandra wrapped her father and mother in her arms and she could feel their nervousness at letting her go. They had no need to worry. She had her sword packed in her saddlebag and she could fend for herself.
"Be safe, my daughter…" Her father, Hugo, pleaded and he kissed his daughter's forehead, a familiar gesture for Kassandra. He had done the same thing before she went to bed every night from the time she was a little girl. Her father protected her as best as he could and took into account her wishes to marry for love, which greatly angered his brother.
"I will, papa." Kassandra promised, knowing that she would be cautious throughout the entire journey and try to keep her cousins from dying of their own stupidity. With Theo's hand helping her, she slipped one leg into the stirrup of her mount's saddle and vaulted the rest of her body onto the saddle. Kassandra appeared like an image of grace while on horseback and she smiled at the sea breeze rustling through her hair. There was never a more freeing sensation than riding horseback to Kassandra.
"May the Maker be with you, Kassandra." Her mother, Aurora, whispered while dabbing at her eyes. Tears of pride welled up to see her daughter, her pride and joy mounted on the back of a horse and prepared to make House Trevelyan proud. Kassandra gave her mom a gentle squeeze of her hand before she took the reins. Kassandra clicked her tongue against her cheek and her horse snorted as it began to trot toward the gate. Her cousins, gathered in their small cluster, realized Kassandra was heading out and shrieked at her to wait for them as they nudged their horses toward the gate. Kassandra reluctantly waited for them at the golden gates, which were being opened by the servants. She glanced over her shoulder at her home with a nostalgic smile; she would be back soon.
In the next breath, the memory faded away and was replaced by a blurry vision of what Kassandra swore was red fabric all around her. After blinking a few times, her vision cleared and she pointed out the features that reminded her of an Inquisition tent. However, she had no clue where she really was. She sat up without difficulty and nearly missed how the fur mantle covering her naked body slipped off her breasts and pooled around her waist. She quickly tugged it back up and secured it by wrapping her arms around herself. Then, it dawned on her who the mantle belonged to in the first place—turning her cheeks a bright scarlet color at the thought of Commander Cullen, who likely carried her back to the Inquisition's camp. Due to him and the gracious bestowment of his prized fur mantle, among other noble and selfless acts, she was alive. Kassandra tilted her head up to the sky and gave a silent, heartfelt thanks to the Maker and Andraste for her survival through this ordeal as her voice seemed momentarily gone.
"Ah, you're awake. I'm glad to see my skills are still adequate for…living subjects." Dorian remarked wryly when he strolled back into the tent with a cauldron of heated water and a dry rag in hand, his tone conveying that he knew his skills would be more than sufficient in the first place. Kassandra attempted to speak, but only some brusque coughs came out where words should have been. Dorian seemed to understand Kassandra's intent and nodded his head. "No need to thank me. It's honestly nothing short of a miracle that you pulled through," Dorian solemnly revealed and Kassandra blinked. She appreciated his honesty however blunt he delivered it. Dorian set the cauldron down by the side of the cot and leaned over to a crate where a pair of clothing rested.
"Are… these for me?" Kassandra managed to cough out and her voice sounded raspy and barely there. She accepted the clothes from Dorian without losing the cloak from around her chest. Her hands were shaking and she forced herself to steady them enough to confidently hold onto the garments.
"They are some spare uniforms from one of Leliana's recruits as they were the closest to your measurements." Dorian confirmed and he turned his back to Kassandra while he headed for the door, giving her some space to change. Once the tent flaps closed behind him, Kassandra quickly slipped into the clothing and sighed at how relieving dry clothes were compared to being soaked to the bone. The blouse was plain and a little snug as were the pants, but they would do for now. She struggled to walk, still regaining her bearings from her brief dance with the brink of death. She gripped the nearest object, which happened to be the cot, and steadied herself until the world stopped spinning. When she re-opened her eyes, Kassandra noticed the fur mantle sprawled out across the cot and she picked it back up. The fur was warm and comforting to her touch as she slid the cloak over her shoulders and gripped it closer to her body. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back to face the ceiling while composing herself with a shaky breath. Kassandra moved to the flaps of the tent and burst through them, ready to face whatever awaited her outside.
With her emerging from the tent, Kassandra drew all eyes to her and silence befell the Inquisition camp as the refugees, inner circle, and advisors all gawked at Kassandra. They believed she fell with the mountain, but there she stood—a little pale and tired, yet she was alive. Her eyes swept across the crowd and locked onto Cullen's from where he stood off to the side. Kassandra drew the fur cloak closer to her, a gesture that drew a twitch at Cullen's lips. Mother Giselle walked up to her and the crowd dispersed. She did not remove her eyes from Cullen's as Mother Giselle spoke to her.
"You are awake. How do you feel?" Mother Giselle asked as she sensed the weariness dragging on Kassandra's soul, the emotional fatigue that shrouded her like the cold air enshrouded the fledgling Inquisition. Kassandra blinked and swallowed; was she okay? She had yet to fully process her willingness to embrace death and brush with it at the hands of Corypheus.
"Awful," Kassandra mumbled and she avoided Mother Giselle's eyes because they shone with pity directed toward her. Even after surviving a near-death experience, the last thing Kassandra desired from people was their pity. She hated the feeling of being pitied. She flinched when she heard Cullen with his voice raised, her mind flashing back to their argument before the mountain fell… when she told him she would be staying behind.
"-What would you have me tell them? This isn't what we asked them to do!" Cullen barked, slicing through the revered silence with the ease of a sharpened blade. Kassandra turned to watch and saw Leliana, Josephine, Cullen, and Cassandra gathered in a small circle. Their voices were raised and the whole camp likely heard every word.
"We cannot simply ignore this! We must find a way!" Cassandra firmly replied, adamant on whatever they were discussing before Kassandra interrupted them by waking up.
"And who put you in charge? We need a consensus, or we have nothing." Cullen snapped back, instigating a notch of tension to kick up. The air surrounding the advisors was thick with uneasiness and it seemed the refugees were actively avoiding the area.
"How long have they been at it?" Kassandra whispered to Mother Giselle, not wanting to draw their attention onto her quite yet. She watched them bicker with her chest constricting uncomfortably. How could they argue in a time like this when their next moves should be meticulously planned out? Fighting now was a dangerous course of action, but it was all too human.
"Please, we must use reason! Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition, we're hobbled-!" Josephine interjected pleadingly and out of the group, she seemed the most broken up with the fighting. Kassandra understood that; Josephine preferred diplomacy and reason to harshness and words that were spoken without thought behind them.
"That can't come from nowhere!" Cullen growled and Josephine physically flinched back, not used to Cullen being so outwardly aggressive. Sure, the war room meetings could occasionally get heated but there was something different to his anger than before. She felt a steady hand on her shoulder and saw a flash of purple before she realized Leliana put herself between her and Cullen. Leliana narrowed her eyes at Cullen, enraged by him.
"She didn't say it could!" Leliana snarled in Josephine's defense, sensing a threat coming from Cullen's hostile attitude. They were all tired and frustrated, which was no excuse in her eyes. Cullen glared down at her with a look she partly recognized in herself. Josephine urged Leliana back with a hand on her shoulder, wanting to stop the fighting.
"Hours," Mother Giselle frowned and she wrung her hands nervously, clearly at unease with the public debating between the advisors. The refugees need not see the cracks of division slipping between their leadership. "Infighting might threaten this as much as Corypheus. Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand…and fall. And now, we have seen her return. This is hard to accept. What 'we' have come to endure, what 'we' have come to believe."
"Mother Giselle, I just don't see what I believe matters. It will take more than just faith to defeat Corypheus and I would not be surprised if this event turned some among us away from the Maker." Kassandra declared taciturnly and her eyes moved away, not interested in watching Mother Giselle's face fall in defeat and heartbreak at her words. Kassandra wished that she could just believe and that all their problems would be solved. But if she learned anything since the Conclave explosion, it is that blind faith cannot solve anything. It will take much more than faith in the Maker to stop Corypheus and restore the Inquisition to a place of power.
"Enough! This is getting us nowhere!" Cassandra bellowed chidingly, but her demand for a ceasefire hardly settled the simmering tensions. Cullen whirled on her with a dark gleam in his eye, one she knew. It was the gleam of worry and loss, of high-strung tension… and she knew it belonged to the woman who just walked out of the tent. They all had yet to process their grief, which was ultimately misplaced, and Cullen shouldered the most out of all of them. Cassandra was not blind; she knew how Cullen felt about Kassandra from the indescribable way his eyes lingered on her any time she entered a room.
"Herald-" Mother Giselle admonished and she reached out for Kassandra, sensing what she intended to do by the determined gleam in her eye. Kassandra barely survived the siege on Haven and, if not for the Maker's blessing, likely would have perished. She was in no condition to be flinging herself in the middle of stress by wading between the arguing leaders. "You need to rest,"
"They're arguing about what we need to do next. I need to be there." Kassandra declared and she hobbled past Mother Giselle, walking right for the advisors. Kassandra ignored the shocked looks she garnered. Most people would have caved in and focused on recovery, but Kassandra was not most people.
"Well, we're agreed on that much!" Cullen declared and Kassandra stormed her way over to the advisors, directing their attention on her. She appeared disappointed in them from the gleam in her eyes and of what they could see of her body language from underneath Cullen's fur cloak.
"Stop arguing!" Kassandra rasped out and the harsh coughs that followed behind enforced a shameful silence between the once arguing advisors. Her shoulders hunched over when she curled into herself to mask the coughs from pushing herself a bit too hard. Her eyes stung with tears and she blinked them away as he coughs faded. She glanced around to see where the advisors had gone in the separation. Sitting on the bench with Leliana on the floor beside her, Josephine buried her head in her hands. Cassandra loomed over the map and studied it; a disapproving scowl twisted across her face. Cullen stood off to the side and stared out at the mountains. Kassandra walked over to Cullen and he looked at her, a twinge of guilt stirring within him for the last words they spoke to each other. Those might have been the last words he ever said to her, but Cullen was glad they weren't. Kassandra reached for his fur cloak hanging around her shoulders, "This belongs to you."
"Keep it. You need to keep from being cold." Cullen responded and he stopped Kassandra from taking it off her shoulders. Their eyes met for the second time that snowy evening and this time, Kassandra did not look away. It was bizarre to see Cullen in his armor without the distinctive addition of his fur cloak; without it, there was more emphasis on his face. In different circumstances, it would have been funny. Those amber eyes observed Kassandra and part of Cullen wondered if this was even real. "I- I am glad you survived." Cullen stammered and Kassandra stared up at him with her eyes shimmering with returning life and her porcelain skin flushed a healthy pink from the cold. Her breath turned opaque as it parted through her lips and she noticed the cold started to slough away. Wordlessly, she reached out and grabbed his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. A flush rose to Cullen's cheeks until he felt the slight tremble of her hand. Cullen realized that Kassandra was shaking, but it was no longer because of the cold. It became clear that she was frightened about what had happened and what might come next. Words didn't need to be spoken to convey that and the reassuring squeeze of his hand Cullen gave worked in the same way. He said everything would be alright.
"Shadows fall and hope has fled. Steel your heart. The dawn will come …The night is long and the path is dark. Look to the sky, for one day soon, the dawn will come…" Mother Giselle's solemn alto warbled through the forlorn silence and the contrast of her words was stark and undeniable. Kassandra's head perked up, a flashback to her childhood upon hearing the Chantry hymn. Her mother used to sing it to her when she was young and scared by storms. A forgotten memory of her past swore to become her battle cry, the Inquisition's last cling to hope. Tears welled in her eyes and her voice, although yearning to be heard, was too frail to join in.
"The shepherd's lost and his home is far. Keep to the stars. The dawn will come" Leliana and a few others chimed in with their voices, the hymn growing louder and echoing off the side of the mountain pass. With the stars twinkling above them, the words of the hymn sounded ordained. Kassandra felt Cullen's hand slip from hers and she understood; the moment was over.
"The night is long and the path is dark. Look to the sky, for one day soon, the dawn will come…" Cullen's voice joined in and the rest of the camp, except for Kassandra, followed his lead. Trickling from their tents and other parts of the camp, the fledgling Inquisition centered around their Herald.
"Bare your blade and raise it high. Stand your ground. The dawn will come… The night is long and the path is dark. Look to the sky, for one day soon, the dawn will come…" The refugees surrounded Kassandra and several of them kneeled before her. Kassandra watched the crowd follow one by one until she was the only one standing. As the final verse of the song ended, the refugees appeared more animated and like hope was restored.
"An army needs more than an enemy; it needs a cause." Mother Giselle advised Kassandra before she walked into the crowd, on her way to tend to the spiritual needs of the refugees. Kassandra thought about her advice carefully and curiously. An excellent point to be made. But it would have to be more than just vengeance for what they lost as vengeance wears down those who burn its torch for too long. She spotted Solas at the edge of the camp, taking in the sight of the refugees surrounding her. Hope, it seemed, was a far more powerful tool than anticipated. Kassandra walked over to him, sensing that he had something to say that required privacy.
"A wise woman worth heeding. Her kind understands the moments that unify a cause or fracture it. The orb Corypheus carried, the power he used against you… it is elvhen. Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach and unlocking it must have caused the explosion which destroyed the Conclave. I do not yet know how Corypheus survived… nor am I certain how people will react when they learn of the orb's origin." Solas informed when the two reached the edge of the camp, standing against the fresh snow and overlooking a snowy embankment. Kassandra processed his words, and she sighed, knowing Solas was correct. She knew how people would turn on a vulnerable target as a scapegoat to blame during times of crisis. The last thing the Inquisition needed was pointing fingers and alienating valuable allies. Elves deserved better than to bear the blame when it was no one's fault but Corypheus'.
"I am not surprised by the idea that people will react poorly and blame elves. There is no one to blame but Corypheus for what tragedy he has caused. If anyone believes otherwise, they can deal with me." Kassandra remarked sharply, a promise that she intended to keep.
"There are steps we can take to ensure that does not happen." Solas murmured, and Kassandra waited for him to elaborate. After a few moments of Solas fidgeting with his staff, which he designated to double as a walking stick, he sighed and gestured in the direction of the northeast from where the camp was. "During my journeys in the Fade, I heard of a fortress hidden somewhere in the Frostback Mountains. They called it Tarasyl'an Te'las, the translation loosely coming out to 'Skyhold'. From what the spirits told me, it has not been inhabited since the Third Blight and was enchanted by its presence on sacred elvhen grounds. I can convene with the spirits and see if they might guide me to this fortress." Solas explained and Kassandra's eyes widened. This Skyhold could very well be the Inquisition's new home after Haven's demise. More importantly, this was a sign that they could rebuild—even if things seemed to be in shambles.
"We leave at first light tomorrow." Kassandra decided and Solas nodded, willing to follow her lead. Kassandra took off back in the direction of the camp where the advisors awaited. She would take charge of the situation if she needed to and hoped that her presence might restore some faith to those following her. Corypheus intended to break their spirits with Haven's demise, but he gained much more than he bargained for. Instead of broken, Kassandra was livid and convinced to defeat him by whatever means necessary. Kassandra would savor the day that the sun rose and the dawn arrived after Corypheus' defeat by the Inquisition's hands.