Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

Completed Dragon Age Inquisition last month, have been playing through again and reading Inquisition stories across the site and this very idea has been forming in my head ever since I started playing the game on its release date. I've been a fan of Dragon Age since Origins, I particularly liked the Warden's story. This story wasn't really inspired by anything I've read on the site or anything I've heard on the internet, it just came from my own head. There may be one or two Warden as the Inquisitor stories or warden in the Inquisition stories but this is something I'm hoping is new, and I hope you all enjoy it.

The premise is that the Warden died during his confrontation with the Archdemon. Or he at least should have died :)

Resurrection

Chapter 1: The fade itself

"Let the blade pass through the flesh,"

"Let my blood touch the ground,"

"Let my cries touch their hearts, let mine be the last sacrifice."

'Religion, great,' he felt like throwing up, or hitting himself.

He was disgusted, a moment of fear was all it took for him to fall back on religion. For as much as he hated religion, he couldn't help liking that quote. He of course couldn't remember the exact page or verse, anything the chant said however was something he could recall. His interest in that quote applied perfectly to his situation, to the moment, his moment. There had been moments before of course, moments in which he had to make a choice, yet this was the most important of them all. One could say there was no choice, no alternative, he didn't see it that way, there were always other ways. He wanted to find a way, a way where everyone lives. A laugh escaped his lips as he stood, his armoured boots clacking against the stone.

'This is it,' he thought as he stepped forward.

His gloved hands wrapped themselves around the hilt of the sword. He yanked the blade out of the ground and looked towards what he shared this moment with. It was terrifying before, but burns, scratches and tears across its skin made it seem less demonic. But there was still that primal defiance in its eyes, like a wounded animal. Their eyes seemed to meet and he could see it, a subtle hint of humanity within its eyes, a human emotion of hatred. This monster was alive, it had a cruel will, part of it wanted to kill him and another part wanted him to kill it, so they could drag one another to whatever afterlife awaited them.

'And Morrigan wanted to save it,' he chuckled slightly as he began walking towards the beast.

He remembered someone that until that moment he would have claimed to love. She was wild in both her spirit and upbringing, yet there was more to her than the wild apostate others would have called her. Morrigan was someone of both physical beauty and had the potential at least to do beautiful things, to perform acts of wisdom and kindness. Yet she was guided by a principal he could never bring himself to follow, survival of the fittest. To him it meant the strong trampling on the weak, the rich gaining more over the poor, the powerful ruling the powerless and the hopeful abandoning the hopeless. He despised such a notion, any child they had together would not have been the pure old god she wanted.

"No," he had said to her offer, she begged and pleaded yet still he rejected her.

Perhaps she did love him, but he no longer loved her. He kept moving forward, dragging the sword across the taint stained stone. The voices behind him became mere blurs as he rushed forward, raising his sword high. Out of the corner of his eye he saw two Hurlocks approach him. The bestial creatures were the darkspawn, the very monsters he had spent the past year fighting. He blocked their attacks and crashed his sword down on one. Immediately pulling the blade free, he stabbed the other one through the chest. Then he pulled the blade free, snapping it in half.

"Damn it," he muttered, throwing the useless blade aside and pulling a knife out of his gauntlet, "Thanks for the final gift Zev," he continued walking towards the archdemon.

It opened its mouth and released a blast of purple fire. He immediately cross his arms together. But instead of causing pain or burning his flesh, the flames twisted around him, he manipulated the flames. A red haired beauty crawled out of the rubble left by the Archdemon's fall, she looked towards the youth and gasped, astonished by the power he wielded. She knew he was a mage of the circle, but she thought he was restrained, his power only allowed to grow under the limit the templars set. Yet seeing him now, she could see he had grown beyond the limits of the chantry both in terms of his magic and his status. He had gathered armies, changed tribes, kingdoms and nations, he had made history throughout Thedas. At that moment he was more than what she envisioned he would be. Surrounded by the Archdemon's fire, yet untouched by its evil he moved forward, manipulating the flame until it passed through his knife.

"LELIANA!"

She looked to her left and glared slightly, there was a man he should have beaten down or killed. Though Loghain had been defeated in both politics, morality and combat, his successor lifted him up into the ranks of the grey wardens, at the expense of the presence of Alistair, his warden brother and best friend. Loghain's leg was broken by a Genlock mace, so he had to lean on a sword for support.

"STOP HIM NOW!" he yelled.

Leliana turned towards Loghain, looking at him in confusion.

"You have to stop him now, or he'll die," Loghain said.

She then looked towards the man she had followed, the man she had grown to love. He began stabbing at the Archdemon's neck, ripping away pieces of its scales so her could gain access to his arteries. Like a beast he growled, standing his ground and avoiding the Archdemon's futile attemps to knock him off balance. Leliana saw in his eyes regret and desperation, he was desperate to the be the one to end it.

"No," she whispered, running towards him.

"PLEASE STOP!" Loghain yelled.

"NO MORE!" Leliana screamed.

"RAAAAAGH!" he let out one final roar as his blade pierced the creature's arteries.

He felt an immense pain throughout his body as he was surrounded by an incredible light. Loghain and Leliana stood the closest to both the climax of the battle, and its horrifying truth. Others such as Arl Teagon, looked up and saw hope, they saw a hero's victory. Loghain and Leliana saw the sacrifice of a hero, the death of the friend. Leliana fell to her knees and yelled out that friend's name.

"DAYLEN!"

'What happened?' he asked himself.

The last thing he remembered was agony, then nothingness. Now he felt more confused than he had ever been in his life. He looked at his surroundings and saw what he saw when he first began his first and last great journey. The fade was a place shaped by the thoughts and dreams of those whom lived in the waking world. It was the place of dreams, where spirits born of emotions both pure and horrid dwelled. His dreams were of both the horrid and the pure, thus the fade was no desolate hell or pure hall. To him the fade was darkness and light intermingled, he walked in an empty world lit by a light that seemed like it had come from a moon. Drifting past him were wisps, represented by flames of differing colours all dependent on the emotion they could one day become. He took a step forward and his feet touched autumn grass. A wind cooled his skin and drew his eyes to a great stone pillar. At the top of that pillar he saw a bright light.

'Is this the peace and paradise that Leliana dreamed of, or is it what Morrigan imagined of the afterlife? Pure nothingness?' every step he took yielded but another question.

He touched his chest, trying to feel the beat of a heart. It was slow, yet he was afraid, uncertainty had consumed him yet his heart remained calm. The very pace of the beats seemed dull, as if he was on the edge of death. Yet his vision was clear, his skin still had its colour and he could still move. He was walking towards the grand pillar, yet as he walked further and further the scenery shifted around him. Voices echoed within the pure darkness that surrounded him.

"Revka you fool, how could you dally with that man, you are noble born I will not have you marry someone who can offer our family nothing!"

"What of love brother? Revka is my daughter and I will always love her, did you love him my dear?"

"Yes father, with all my heart, I am having his child."

"Then know that you will always have a home, no matter what happens."

"Fausten you fool, the father offers nothing that can advance our family, you are too idealistic, you must guide your children and your grandchild down the proper path."

"Brother...do you truly think the pressure you put on Leandra and Gamlen makes them better, that they will follow the path you dictate without question? If they don't will you cease loving them? If so then you will die alone my poor brother, my grand child will have my love and respect for whatever dream they seek out...it's called having faith brother, something that extends to more than just prayers in some grand hall."

"Grandfather," he gasped.

He saw the fade shift before his very eyes, watched it turn into a grand garden. In that garden he saw a boy, probably just two years old with lightly tanned skin and brown hair. He walked (barely) with his mother a black haired woman whose only trait he had was her blue eyes. An older man walked away from one of the pillars, he too had the woman's skin, hair and eyes. They were family and they were happy. The boy smiled and he smiled too, remembering a better time. Another dark haired woman walked into the garden, slightly younger than the boy's mother. She knelt and rubbed the boy's messy brown hair.

"Cousin, Leandra," he identified the woman and walked closer towards her.

He passed through her and in an instant he saw images of her meeting a dark haired man, scruffily dressed unlike her. Yet he could feel a deep love between them. The moment passed and he returned to the garden. But he didn't watch the happy boy this time. Instead he looked at his grandfather Fausten and someone he could only assume was his uncle, judging from his similarities to his mother.

"The viscount is finally gone, Uncle Aristide will finally rise as ruler of the city, this is a moment in which we can't afford to appear weak or tainted."

"Speak carefully Damion, or else I may not pay back the debt you've likely gained in Starkhaven, your sister hasn't seen you for years, you should be happy for her and the family."

"Happy? I find out from rumours that my sister is pregnant and I come back to find something that doesn't even look like our family, who was the father?"

"Someone your sister loved but whom had no interest in bringing up a child, a traveller, possibly Rivaini or Tevinter, it matters not, he is a child of an Amell, the tone of his skin and the colour of his hair shouldn't matter."

"It matters father, uncle Aristide searches for a noble family for which we could integrate, what will be said if we raise a child from a lower bloodline?"

"I have already had this conversation with my brother, I will not have it with you, have I made myself clear?"

"If his father was of Tevinter then you know what that means father, would you leave our family's fortune, the protection and guidance of my children and Leandra's to a...a...TAINTED BASTARD!"

"ENOUGH!"

Darkness appeared around him again, and instead he heard voices different from his uncle and grandfather. They were still familiar voices to him.

"He was sent from Kirkwall, the Knight-Commander approved it, much to the Lieutenants outrage."

"I dread the day Stannard becomes Knight-Commander. But at such a young age, to use blood magic without any prior knowledge and in such a way...incredible."

"The boy has potential true, but those eyes of his, blood magic has changed him...but I am not as fearful as the clerics let us see how he does before we choose to judge him."

"Indeed, what is his name Greigor?"

"Daylen, Daylen Amell!"

"I am...Daylen Amell," he whispered.

Daylen looked upon his younger self, a boy whose red eyes spoke of his depression. The image changed, turning into a thinner version of himself in apprentice robes, there was a slight smile across his face. Again the image changed and he turned into a man in grey warden mage gear.

"You liked this better than the circle didn't you?" his mirror image asked him. "THIS IMAGE SUITS YOU BETTER!"

Whatever his clone was, his voice had taken on a deep and darker pitch. One could only call it demonic and inhuman. It displayed inhuman strength too, lifting Daylen up and slamming him against a wall. The scene shifted and Daylen widened his eyes, he was at Ostagar again, the night before the Ferelden grey wardens were massacred. He looked upon someone who he thought was a great man, walking towards someone who just wanted to go home.

"You ask too much," Ser Jory said.

"There is no going back," Duncan said.

He gasped as Duncan stabbed Jory in the chest. His clone smirked and replaced Duncan with himself.

"I think that would have suited you very well," he said.

He threw Daylen across the ground and again the scene shifted. Daylen rose to his feet and widened his eyes as he looked upon templars cutting through abominations and mages alike. He turned and looked towards a table, two mage children were hiding underneath it. Daylen frowned as a templar walked towards them with his sword drawn. The young man moved to intercept the knight, but much to his shock he passed through the children. His head shook frantically as the knight pulled one of the boys up and ran his sword through his chest.

"You were free of the circle, then you went back, you did more damage than good," his copy said.

"That isn't how it happened," Daylen said.

"Nonsense, you sacrificed didn't you?"

"Yes, I died, that's how it happened," he retorted.

"Then how are you here, why do you still feel so afraid?" the copy asked.

With a click of his fingers the scene shifted again. He found himself in a grand city falling apart, flames spreading through the streets, blood spraying across the walls. The victims were small, dwarves of Orzammar. Marked, casteless dwarves smashed a door open and ran towards the throne of an old king.

"Harrowmont, no, he wasn't who I..." Daylen suddenly felt an immense pain in his head.

He fell to his knees and yelled, feeling his body shrink and his armour shatter. His gauntlets fell apart, replaced by the scratched fingers of a five year old. Long, dirty and uncomfortable robes draped over his body as he began to cry. His voice croaked and its pitch increased.

"Why, why am I here?" he asked. "Why did mother send me away? What did I do wrong? Why is the world so cruel? Why can't I just leave it? Why can't I die?"

"Hush now," a soft, accented voice spoke.

Leliana walked towards him, wearing the chantry robe he first met her in.

"Your purpose is clear now isn't it? You have fulfilled your purpose," Sten said, striding beside Leliana in his armour.

"We'll take care of you," said Wynn.

"We'll guide you to paradise," Zevran said.

They gathered around him, Leliana stroking his head and Zevran patting his back. There was a moment when the child felt comforted, safe, happy.

"You deserve it my friend, do not concern yourself with the future," said Alistair, pushing Sten and Wynn aside and patting Daylen's head.

Daylen looked at Alistair's hand, he had it extended as if to offer him something. There was a moment every mage had, when he was tempted to accept the offer he had been given. He had more cause than most to just give up, to let whatever world he was in swallow him. But he was distracted, his attention drawn to a light in the distance, he could barely see it with Alistair in front of him. Instead of taking the man's hand he slapped it aside and looked towards the light, it was frantically flying towards a hill of some kind, like a firefly it was drawn to an even bigger light.

"What is...light, hope," Daylen whispered.

"What's that my friend?" Alistair asked.

"Light, hope...you aren't Alistair," he snarled. "NONE OF YOU ARE MY FRIENDS!"

He screamed, releasing a fire from his body that incinerated the visions. His copy moved back, his neck and limbs twisting as his form began to change. The Envy demon revealed itself, screaming as the boy began walking through the flames.

"Mother and grandfather did send me away, and every day I looked for a reason, I prayed to the maker for a reason but was met only with silence...I don't look for purpose in god." he explained.

"She's more 'oooh pretty colours', not 'mwahaha, I'm princess stabbity, stab, stab kill, kill."

"Ha, Ha, it may as well be."

"A drink from my own stash, my family's recipe dedicated to my comrades in arms."

"Kadan!"

"There is a strength in you I have not yet seen since Maric died."

"I care for you...more deeply than I can say, but...I can't watch you going to her all the time."

"I will not allow you to throw away your life like this, this will work and it will save your life!"

He smiled upon hearing the voices in the flames, they burnt away his circle robes.

"My friends, every bond I made in that journey lifted me up more than some promise of power could, it wasn't results or promises that guided me, it was the presence of my friends, to understand me Envy demon, to be me you have to know more than just friendship and a few stories, let me summarise it for you," he began as he grew, from a hurt and scared boy to a man strengthened by his experience and scars. "I saved the circle, I stopped the templars from killing any innocents that day. I put on the throne of Orzammar a king who could lead it into the modern age, not a relic who would drown it in tradition. I despised Duncan's sacrifice, I despised Morrigan's offer of help, whenever I had to sacrifice I made the sacrifice my own!

The flames swirled around him, shaping his black and gold armour. Every tear in his suit, every missing piece of his armour was intact. He came back exactly as he was when he died. Except he denied death, he denied whatever existence he had been reverted to. But more importantly he denied the demons and spirits of the fade.

"I am Daylen Amell, a son of Kirkwall's nobility, a mage of the circle, a grey warden, when I am strong I protect the weak, when I am rich I give to those who don't have riches, when I am powerful I help the powerless, when I have hope I lift up the hopeless. That's what it means to be who I am, what I try to be," he smashed his fists together, igniting fire through the claws of his left gauntlet and electricity through the fingers of his right glove.

The Envy demon screamed, its claws glowing as it flung itself at Daylen. He leant back, dodging the demons claws. It bent its limbs and adjusted its position, trying to confuse Daylen. But the young mage slammed his fist into the ground, creating an earth spell that cracked the ground beneath him, trapping the demon. He jumped over the rocks, kicking the top of the demon's head and launching himself down the hill, towards the lights in the distance. As he skidded down the hill he caught a look at what the light was running from. He could only describe it with three words:

"Big fucking spider!"

It was bigger than a dragon that much Daylen could say, and it looked like it was infected with the blight too. He focused less on that and more on the smaller spiders rushing past its legs. Daylen had encountered giant spiders before, they were fast and deadly even to people who weren't afraid of them. When the sparking light fell he began sprinting, charging a spell as he moved. He shot a fireball into the air, creating smaller fireballs that rained down on the spiders that approached the fallen man. Now closer to his target, Daylen could see exactly who needed his help. His first experience with Qunari had been with Sten, someone he had come to know as a good friend. Seeing a Qunari with horns was a surprise for him even though he knew most Qunari did have horns he hadn't met any Tal-Vashoth with horns. The Qunari lying on the floor was dressed in a green uniform with steel shoulder guards, something Daylen had seen most common mercenaries or sell swords wear. He lacked a glove on his left hand, which exposed revealed the sparking light Daylen had seen in the distance. It was a mark of some kind, Daylen couldn't make out what it looked like because of the light, it leaked out of the hand like blood.

The man himself had skin like bronze, a tan much like a Rivaini. He was tall as seemed common in Qunari, probably shorter than Sten by just an inch. When Daylen turned his head over he saw a youth in the Qunari's face he hadn't seen in Sten's. He seemed to be either in his early thirties or late twenties, older than himself at twenty two. The young Qunari had straight silver hair that rested on his shoulders, he lacked a fringe because of the growths on his forehead. Two long and slightly curved horns protruded from his forehead and stretched past the back of his head. Despite his obvious muscle weight, Daylen wasted no time in grabbing the man's hand and carrying him over his shoulder. He began walking up the hill, taking glances every few seconds to see how close the spiders were getting. Sweat ran down his face, both out of fatigued and fear as the spiders drew closer. He looked up and saw the light of what he could only describe and hope was a gateway. At the top of the hill, looking down at them was a woman in Chantry robes, though they seemed fancier, white with not a single crease of excess cloth.

'Why does she seem so familiar?' Daylen wondered.

He couldn't quite place it but he got the feeling that they had met before. Throwing the curiosity aside Daylen quickened his pace, taking one step after another higher, stopping only to adjust his grip on the Qunari. He could hear some kind of screaming behind him, the cries of nightmare demons. But he ignored those screams and kept climbing, kicking the spiders beneath him. When the hill got steeper, like a cliff, Daylen hooked the Qunari's arm around his neck and bit his sleeve. With his hands free he climbed faster, but didn't leave the man behind him. He felt the Qunari's weight strain his neck but he kept pulling him back up. When he was within range of the priest he grabbed the Qunari's arm and passed him to her. She grabbed the Qunari's left hand, ignoring the surging light on it and pulled him up. Daylen turned and launched a fireball at one of the spiders, knocking it into the ones behind it.

"The demon," the priest cried.

"GET TO THE PORTAL NOW!" Daylen yelled.

The Chantry priest grabbed the edge of his shoulder guards and began pulling him up. Daylen didn't fight her, he was glad she was someone willing to help others. He looked down at the Qunari as he began to regain consciousness.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

"I'm about as lost as you, we need to take that portal and get out of here," Daylen said.

"He needs a few minutes to recover, if you really are who I think you are please help us," the priest said.

"I'll carry him, we'll be right behind you!"

The Chantry priest took a step forward, only for something to lift her off of the ground. She let out a shrill shriek as she started flying towards the ledge. Daylen grabbed the woman's hand and dug the claws of his gauntlet into the dirt. He looked at the creature behind the priest. It reminded him somewhat of a darkspawn emissary, but it had spider legs on its back and even on its face. The priest looked at Daylen, watching him desperately cling to the ground. Their eyes met and the woman shook her head. She tried to peel Daylen's fingers away, but he kept a tight hold.

"What are you doing?" Daylen asked.

"Go please," she said.

"No, I can still get you out of here," he snarled.

She opened his hand with both hers and smiled at him. Then she let go!

"NO!" Daylen yelled.

The priest said nothing, she didn't even scream as she was flown away from the hill. Daylen squeezed his hands into fists and yelled. He threw his hands forward, spraying flames over the spiders that climbed onto the ledge. His roar and the fires of his magic were like that of a dragon. The remains of spiders twitched in front of him and he wiped the tears from his eyes, caring not that the metallic tips of his gloves singed his skin. He turned to the Qunari, who seemed to be in a comatose state. Grabbing the Qunari's arm he lifted him off of the floor and carried him to the portal. The sparking of the Qunari's mark grew more furious the closer they go to the portal, but Daylen didn't care.

"Any place is better than here," he said.

The pair went through the portal and touched ground that felt natural, felt air that seemed natural. Daylen himself sighed in both relief and pleasure. The cool air and the snow felt good. He lowered the Qunari gently onto the ground and extended his hand. The specks of snow gathered into his palm. He stared at the flakes as people in armour rushed towards him and the Qunari. The portal closed behind them, coincidentally just as the soldiers arrived. They seemed to be soldiers, their armour was light and not as heavy as traditional Ferelden armour. Daylen looked at the flakes gathering in his hands. He then sniffed them and widened his eyes in shock.

"Ashes, these are ashes, what happened here?" he asked the nearest soldier.

"We ask the questions here," the soldier said.

Daylen could see that the man was nervous, torn between him and the wounded Qunari.

"This region, are we anywhere near the village of Haven or the temple of sacred ashes, are you with Brother Genitivi?" he asked.

"What, brother Genitivi? No, we're part of the Chantry's forces, here to investigate the incident at the conclave," one of the soldiers said.

"Conclave? Were Anora and Alistair meeting with Chantry officials? Was it about the temple's discovery?"

The soldiers traded suspicious glances with one another. They looked at Daylen, taking in his appearance as their hands were drawn to their weapons. Daylen stepped back slightly, looking up at the sky. He gasped, seeing something that was both astonishing and terrifying at the same time. The sky was clear, no cloud gathered at the peak of the mountain but it had taken on a green colour. Every cloud swirled around a grand portal, bigger than any Daylen had seen before. It was a tear in the sky, a breach of the veil.

"You," he turned to one of the oldest soldiers, the one who seemed to be in charge. "What year is it?" he asked.

Again the soldiers looked at him as if he was odd. The senior soldier shook his head as he looked at Daylen.

"9:41 dragon," he said.

Daylen was at a loss for words. He turned away from the soldiers, rubbing the sweat off of his face. For a moment he considered denying it, calling the men liars. Ten years had passed since he killed the Archdemon, or so they claimed. A sudden scream tore Daylen away from his concerns. The men quickly drew their swords, fumbling slightly, indicating an inexperience or perhaps a fear that drove them to make mistakes. Daylen looked at the Qunari in their care and then towards the tree line. He could already see wraiths, green ghost like creatures and terror demons. Their screams were paralysing the soldiers with fear.

"If you have a camp get that man to it now, that mark on his hand might be connected to the breach, which makes protecting him your top priority, don't worry about the rest of your comrades," Daylen explained.

"Wait, where do you think you're going?" one of the soldiers asked.

Mana glowed around Daylen's hands as he began walking forward.

"To wherever the fighting's thickest, and to wherever I'm needed most," he said.

He broke off into a run, firing blasts of magic into the demons emerging from the forest. He slid underneath a fear demon, avoiding its claws and pelting it with a fire spell. Daylen jumped to his feet and dived to the side, shards of ice pierced through the back of the fear demon. The grey warden threw a fireball into the despair demon's ice blast. It stood no chance against the flame. Clicking the cricks out of his neck and passing electricity through his gloves, Daylen jumped out of the forest, landing on a shade. He grabbed the sides of the creature's head, shocking it with electricity until it died. Daylen gracefully rolled when the demon hit the ground and moved towards a wrath demon. The monster had its arm raised, ready to finish a grounded soldier off. Daylen however touched the back of the demon's head, freezing it solid with ice. Then he pulled his hand back and smashed its head open. Daylen threw two shades back with a mind blast and dived to avoid a fear demon's claws. He rolled onto his feet and jumped back as a portal appeared beneath him. The fear demon's claws brushed again Daylen's chin, but did no significant damage. Daylen blasted the demon with fire and jumped over it as it burned. He ran as fast as he could across the field, over the bodies of demons and humans alike. On that field he saw breaches, portals that hung meters above the ground and spat out wraiths and shades.

"Ten years, and this is what I find, what the hell happened?" he wondered.

Daylen slammed his foot into the handle of a sword. He grabbed the blade and rushed towards the portal. The blade glowed orange as he swung it forward, easily slicing apart the demons that faced him. But he didn't stop there, he dragged the blade across the ground as he ran into another set of trees. With every swing of his sword he cut apart a demon before it could kill or even attack the Chantry soldiers. Suddenly, and much to Daylen's embarrassment he caught his leg on a thick root and fell. He rolled down a hill, hitting and clinging onto a log. His sword flew through the air, imbedding itself within the head of a pride demon.

"That was lucky," Daylen muttered.

He got off the floor, only to trip again and begin sliding down the hill, cracked leaves and ash coating his armour and clothes. The young man grunted in pain as his forehead struck a tree branch, it had moved too fast for him to grab. When he reached the bottom of the hill he screamed, as he was launched over a crevice.

"MAKER IF I SURVIVE THIS I SWEAR I'LL BELIEVE IN YOU!" the mage yelled.

He hit a tree branch belly first, then flipped and hit another branch. Daylen grinned as he grabbed the third branch, only for a green fireball to strike the bottom of the tree.

"DAMN IT MAKER!" he yelled as the tree toppled.

He let go of the branch and rolled out of the tree's landing zone. Finally he had a moment to sigh in relief. He blinked as he saw an object in the sky, it was heading straight towards him. Daylen jumped to his feet and ran as fast as he could. Green fireballs hailed over the region behind him. Again he slid down a hill, landing this time on a road of some kind. When Daylen rose to his feet he screamed. A burnt husk stood before him, frozen in whatever helpless pose he or she had been in before Armageddon struck. In fact Daylen looked at the area around him, and much to his surprise found it to be mostly a charred wasteland. Some pieces of stone remained from where buildings once stood. Scattered around Daylen could see blackened shields and staffs. He picked up one of the shields and rubbed the soot off of it.

"Templars," he recognised the flaming sword pattern even if it was fading.

Dropping the shield, Daylen at the path ahead, he could hear fighting in the distance and knew he had to be a part of it. He run up the path, knowing that even though it was closer to the breach it would be a place he could help. The sounds of fighting grew louder and louder the closer Daylen got. When he reached the end of the path he looked upon what must have been the epicentre of the blast. He stopped a moment to look at the people fighting, their numbers had been whittled down by the demons. At this point the soldiers were simply desperate to survive, staying close to their commander. He stood with his troops, something Daylen admired, the man himself had better armour than the others. Much of it was concealed by his coat and the furs he wore. He covered his face with a gold helmet, decorated with a dark mane, resembling the lions Daylen had read about in the circle.

"Hold the line men, help will come soon," the man said.

'That voice, it couldn't be,' again Daylen gained a sense of familiarity.

Reappearing in Haven was mere coincidence, meeting someone he knew would have been another coincidence. If there were any more coincidences then Leliana's theory on destiny existing would be true.

'Not ready to admit that yet,' Daylen thought.

He jumped into the fight, surprising the soldiers as much as the demons. His arrival renewed the morale of the soldiers and they fought harder. Blades pierced through demonic flesh, fire and lightning melted them and arrows swarmed into the remaining demons. Daylen summoned a lightning storm, destroying a group of demons infront of him. When the storm passed and the last demon was dead Daylen finally fell to his knees. He let out deep breaths, exhausted from his run and the amount of mana he had used.

"Commander, more demons may be on their way, now may be a good time to retreat," one of the soldiers said.

"No, not yet, we need to hold the line until Seeker Pentaghast gets here with reinforcements," the commander explained.

Daylen rose from the ground and looked towards the commander. The man removed his helmet, revealing a face Daylen was sure he wouldn't see again. There were lines from aging across his skin as well as some old facial scars. But the man had changed very little, Daylen remembered meeting him at the circle, and particularly his look of hatred. Cullen glared as he approached Daylen.

"Cullen, what happened here where are the templars?" Daylen asked.

"Silence demon," the templar snarled.

The grey warden widened his eyes, which were drawn to the tip of Cullen's sword, aimed right at his face. Daylen backed away, more in shock than actual fear. He looked up at the sky, the breach had grown bigger since he last looked at it. His hands shook and his shoulders slumped. For a moment despair lingered over him, but then he was consumed by a need, a need that was greater than his confusion and curiosity over his return. He needed to know what had happened in the past ten years? What had happened to put the world on the brink like this?

Next Chapter 2: Durad Adaar

I hope everyone enjoyed the first chapter, and that you like the concept. The answer to the question how is Daylen alive and why has he appeared ten years later should be obvious...read and find out :)

I based Daylen Amell's look on Talon from the Batman vs. Robin movie, making him look different from most members of the Amell family. Him having red eyes I added as an effect of using blood magic.

Next chapter introduces the Inquisitor, the creation of 00virtuezero (whose been reviewing my ideas over the past few months) Durad Adaar.

Also as amazing as I found Inquisition I was a little disappointed to discover that the elder one was just the villain from Legacy (not that he wasn't a good villain), so along with the Elder one I will be introducing another antagonist who will be a rival to Daylen, the Inquisition and Corypheus. This also wont be a scene by scene novelisation of the Inquisition with just Daylen added in, his presence and the presence of the secondary antagonist will change things. Tell me what you thought of the first chapter please.