Maker, my enemies are abundant.
Many are those who rise up against me.
But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion,
Should they set themselves against me.

The Canticle of Trials replayed in my mind over and over as we made the perilous journey up the mountain. Cassandra was as good as her word in she and the troops protecting me from the demons that spawned as we went. I thanked the Maker that none appeared until we had put plenty of distance between us and Haven; Cullen and his troops successful in pushing the enemy line back to the temple save for the few demons that emerged from falling debris.
I offered support when I could - a barrier here, healing there - but I kept it minimal to keep my strength. I needed it all as my feet sank in the snow, dragged across the ice; heart pounding, lungs burning, throat cracking. I dry heaved a few times, not just from the exhaustion, but the stench of rotting corpses.
Those who had been outside the temple had been cut down by the raging demons; our soldiers who fell fighting them, now among the dead. Their bodies were strewn all along the path we took up to the temple. The soldiers in the valley still alive were too preoccupied with the demons to put the dead to rest properly. Cassandra kept pushing me forward, warning that stopping or straggling meant imminent death. I obeyed while doing my utmost to will my uncooperative body to obey.

"We're nearly there," Cassandra shouted over the roars and yells emanating from the top of yet another set of cut stone steps, hoisting me up the last.

I held my side that ached, gasped for air before asking, "What is that?"

"A rift in the Veil that opened in the wake of the Breach expanding," she explained, "Demons pour out of it constantly, but it is less than those that come from the rift outside the temple."

I marveled at how we were not all already dead. Cullen truly had skill in commanding these soldiers, if he had taken a mass of recruits made mostly of volunteers, farmers, youths and templars that had followed him and turned them into a force that could hold back this demon horde. Forcing my impossibly heavy legs to move closer, my eyes got to see firsthand how far the explosion had reached.
I had noticed fallen trees and flung boulders lower down the mountain, but that had not wholly surprised me due to the shock wave afterward. Before me now, peeking out over the half-demolished wall ahead was the disfigured remains of the mountaintop. A bridge lay to our right leading up to the temple, but below us writhed demons and soldiers.
I saw flickers of magic and heard a consistent mechanical thwack emitting from the mass. Solas and Varric, I realized as I saw the Breach's green light reflecting off of Solas's bald head, and watched as Varric somersaulted through the air with a strange looking crossbow. At the center of the action, a crystalline entity writhed; it would spark and spit, then utter an otherworldly squeal before demons were born from the searing light it vomited. Shades, terrors, wraiths; lesser demons, but still lethal. Cassandra nudged me towards the bridge.

"I thought you said we were nearly there?" I asked.

"We are, but this is not the destination. The short cut to the temple is blocked. Solas has things well in hand with the injured here. Varric covers him when his magic is needed."

I did not doubt it as the dwarf seemed to be all over the small battlefield as he vaulted and rolled every which way.

"Where to then?" I quirked a brow, Cassandra was looking down at them, her face unreadable.

"The temple, what is...left of it. The front gates," she turned to me, "Where most of the death has occurred. I can not guarantee your safety once we are there."

"If I die, tell..." tell Cullen, "my sister that I did what I could and I wish her the best."

Cassandra nodded. We crossed the bridge just in time for it to explode behind us, crushed underneath another piece of the temple falling from the sky. My heart pounded in my chest as my stomach lurched to my throat. I vomited in the snow before standing to see if the others across the way had survived. Magic flared above them.

"Green, they are alright," Cassandra let out a breath, "We need to hurry."

We came to the forward camp, resting for a moment while Cassandra and Leliana caught each other up on what had happened. I was handed a bowl of beans by a Chantry sister, following suit with the others who inhaled their food. An elderly Chantry cleric argued with the Hands of the Divine, but I could not hear what was spoken. Cassandra returned to our group, anger plain on her face and told us it was time to move again.

It must have been nightfall when we reached the main gates of the temple, but the Breach kept the area illuminated. The lights and shadows so contrasting it was nightmarish, doubled by the groans of the dying, the screeches of demons and the stench of death everywhere.

Through blinding mist, I climb
A sheer cliff, the summit shrouded in fog, the base
Endlessly far beneath my feet
The Maker is the rock to which I cling.

I clung, despair threatening to overwhelm me as I saw row after row of bodies. Recruits, mages, templars, people of the Chantry, even some bodies unrecognizable. I held back tears as I saw tiny forms among the dead, too young.
They had separated the dead from the injured: the dead on the left, the injured on the right of the main gates. A few tents had been set up, a fire going in the middle of them and bedrolls laid out for the injured. The outer wall still stood, archers lining its top, but beyond, the explosion had decimated the temple within. I allowed myself a brief moment to peer inside, but I saw only the mass of soldiers fighting the demon horde beneath another rift.
Making my way over to the injured, I assessed the damage and winced internally. Though they'd taken the time to drag them away from the fighting, the healing performed was minimal. There were open wounds, infections, unset breaks, limbs with tourniquets that were still bleeding, and worst of all broken morale. Hope was all but gone in the faces of those we passed by, and soldiers fighting without a cause would only lead to death.

"Hold the line! For Haven, for those you love, for the Maker! Hold. The. Line!," Cullen's voice rallied the troops beyond the gate as I heard their answering cry.

I breathed a sigh of relief in knowing he was still fighting and had not lost hope.

"We must leave you now," Cassandra murmured after touching my shoulder, pain in her eyes as she took in the dreadful scene before us.

She turned and waved someone over to me. I was surprised as I watched a female Qunari approach. She was giant compared to me and a mass of muscle. Her skin was a shade somewhere between blue, gray and purple. She had long white hair braided back between two great, twisted horns that protruded from her skull. Her eyes were like lightning - a blend of white and purple. She had a delicate nose that looked like it had been broken, high cheekbones and very full lips.

"I am Asaala Adaar," she stated, her voice deep, "Cassandra assigned me as the protector of the healer."

I nodded to her as I watched Cassandra and the others head inside the gates. Asaala handed a bundle to me and I looked up at her. She led me to a tent, holding the flap open.

"Standard issue armor, put it on," she ordered, "Last healer refused to change out of her Chantry robes. A bit of metal over her chest would have stopped the demon claws long enough to let me get to her."

I thanked her and ducked inside, hastily changing. I stepped out and she readjusted what I had improperly put on. Tightening straps, straightening the breastplate. She nodded toward the main gate and I saw wearied soldiers stumbling out. A few injured were taken over to the bedrolls, the rest worked their way down the short steps and sank to the ground in exhaustion. Heading to the injured, I got to work.
I assessed all the injuries, starting with the gravest first and working my way to the least serious. Cleaning and cauterizing wounds, bandaging, setting breaks, using my magic when most appropriate to speed things along. I couldn't use magic as much as I would've liked for fear of using it too fast and depleting the little lyrium I had. I knew some wouldn't recover, even magic too late for what the body had already done, but I did what I could to ease their passing. Once finished, I took stock of supplies, cut and boiled cotton, made poultices and saw to rations. I kept working until I felt a large hand on my shoulder.

"You need rest," Asaala's deep voice stated, "You're no good to us exhausted or dead."

"There's too much to do and," I glanced up to the Breach, "I'm too afraid to close my eyes."

"I will keep you safe," she assured, "And the Commander is not giving those things another inch."

I hesitated and she pushed me toward the tent, "Rest."

I ducked inside, felt my way to a cot in the darkness and quickly passed into the sweet dark of dreamless sleep.

"You need sleep, Cullen," an angry voice yelled outside the tent, a thick Starkhaven accent.

"There's no time to sleep!" he shouted back.

"Make time! You're dead on your feet and you know it. I can keep things in good order, or you wouldn't have made me your second," the voice barked.

"I -"

"Get in the tent and sleep, or I'll knock you upside the head and make you sleep."

"Rylen," Cullen growled.

"Are you telling me I need to relieve you of duty?"

"No."

"Even if it's five minutes," Rylen's voice got softer.

"Keep them alive," Cullen ordered.

"You have my word, ser."

The tent flap flicked open and I heard a deep sigh. I didn't know wether to get up or pretend to keep sleeping until Cullen fell asleep and slip out then.

"Andraste, preserve us," he murmured, "Don't they realize I can't sleep?"

I heard him shuffling, the creak of a trunk opening, a match set, the faint glow of a candle filtering through my closed eyes. His footsteps drew nearer and the cot groaned, shifting as he -

"Maker's breath!" he shouted, the cot groaning again as he removed his weight.

After a moment, his hand roughly shook my shoulder, "Recruit, get up!"

His voice was livid and commanding. He probably thought I was one of his soldiers, shirking duty by sleeping in a tent. I turned, meeting his eyes. They widened in shock.

"Neria, I mean - Meir-," he stammered, astonished, "What are you doing here?"

"Your other healer was killed, I volunteered to take her place."

"You - but, why?"

"I couldn't be unsupervised down below. Still a suspect, remember? But, your soldiers need healing; Bethany and I are the only one's left who have magic and healing knowledge."

Anger and understanding sat equal in Cullen's eyes as he looked at me, "Thank you."

"No need, it's the least I can do in thanks to you and them."

Cullen seemed to realize he was still holding my shoulder and straightened. He did look dead on his feet. I sat up, swinging my legs off the side of the cot.

Standing and gesturing to the cot, "I warmed it up for you, don't waste it."

A twitch of his lips said he wanted to chuckle, "I appreciate the excellent service, healer."

"Only the best for our Commander, ser," I saluted.

I did win a bark of a laugh then, "Your salute is appalling."

"Well, I am a mage."

He chuckled, "So you are. Back to work,"

"Aye, ser, and please, do get some sleep."

He nodded. I slipped out the tent.

—

He slept just shy of five minutes, if he slept at all, before I saw him exit the tent. He glared up at the sky as if he could will it to close. A hand went to his sword and he headed for the gates. A brief glance my way, a nod and in he went.
As I continued to work, I heard the roars and battle cries. The fighting seemed never ending: more and more wounded needing care. A few more died, but I seemed to be helping stem the losses. Only those who died instantly from their injuries, instead of losing them slowly.

"Draw your last breath, my friends. Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky. Rest at the Maker's right hand, and be forgiven," I murmured as I closed the eyes of a young solider who'd just succumbed to wounds I was too late to treat.

I turned when the thumps of heavy footfalls hit the stairs. A messenger threw themselves up the last two, one of Leliana's from what I could tell, and slipped passed the gates. Urgent news then, if it had to go straight to Cullen or Cassandra. I prayed it was not demons erupting in Haven. A few moments later, as I was packing snow for a compress to place on a broken leg, Cassandra and the messenger raced past. Cassandra's eyes caught on me.

"Your sister woke up," she threw over her shoulder.

Relief spread through me, but worry pooled in my gut. I feared for her. What will happen now? I prayed to the Maker to help us. I continued to pray as I attended the wounded, trying to shut out the nightmare that lay on the other side of the stone wall. Trying to shut out the fear that Cullen and the rest would fall before we could do anything to stop the Breach and its demons from swallowing us all.

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