Rajmael of Clan Lavellan

by Powerslammer

Rajmael is an elf possessed of great pride and an incredible power. Born with a powerful name and a greater destiny, he has lived his whole life by the the Vir Tanadhal. And now he must use his ancient knowledge to stand against forces that threaten his world and everything he loves. Watch as he stands as a Dalish Elf, a Herald and as The Inquisitor. Please, please review.

19. The Way of Shadow: Part III

The Way of Shadow: Part III

Back at Skyhold…

It had been several days since the Inquisitor had left to deal with the Freeman of the Dales. Normally Leliana would not be worried, but there were no reports back from them, none of their scouts or forward camps reported any word of them since Rajmael led his companions to the old temple of Elgar'nan. Leiana prayed they were alright. After years of playing the Game, Josephine was an expert about keeping her true feelings hidden, but Leliana could tell how nervous her friend was after she got done looking over several diplomatic writs for the seventh time. Cullen, like most Fereldans, was not subtle about how he was feeling. He stood over the War Table, scowling at the map like it offended him. Leliana, on the other hand, remained quiet. Years of being a bard had taught her to never show emotions, never show fear or anger. However, with the Inquisitor and his entire party missing, Leliana couldn't help but be worried.

"Has there still been no word?" Cullen asked, still glowering at the War Table.

"None. My scouts still report nothing." Leliana answered trying to hide her concern.

"Should we be worried? I could call in several factions who us favors to descreetly look for them." Josephine suggested nervously.

"There's no need. I know where they are." Said the voice that could only belong to the Inquisitor.

"Inquisitor? Thank the Maker!" Leliana breathed with a sigh of relief.

"Indeed. We were starting to worry." Josephine agreed.

"You were right to be worried. We have a serious problem." Rajmael informed grimly.

Rajmael spent the next half an hour explaining to his advisors the dire situation he found himself in. The existence of the Vir Banal'ras, the continued existence of his adopted brother, Nethras, and the impossible task Nethras has demanded of Rajmael. To say that his advisors were appalled was a massive understatement.

"And you just left them there? In the hands of that maniac!?" Cullen yelled. "I know you said he's your brother, but do you honestly think they'll be safe?"

"Nethras has sworn in the name of the Creators that no harm will come to them. I have never known him to be a liar, especially when it comes to such an oath." Rajmael assured.

"But you also thought you knew him to never abandon his daughter, do you truly think he is more trustworthy for that?" Leliana pointed out.

"That I don't trust him is exactly why I chose to accept his request." Rajmael answered with disappointment in his words. "He is after the Sulevin Blade. I cannot allow that to fall into his, or anyone else's hands."

"I still do not understand. What is this Sulevin Blade you mentioned?" Josephine asked. "What makes it so dangerous?"

"It is one of the most powerful weapons ever created by elven hands, and a secret known only to Dalish Keepers. And a warning against the very actions that the Vir Banal'ras represent." Rajmael lamented.

"What do you mean? What is the history of this weapon?" Leliana inquired.

"I don't know the exact history of the weapon, I doubt anyone does." Rajmael sighed. "All the Keepers agree that it was forged in the time of Arlathan. Some say it was forged in an ancient temple to Mythal to represent her justice. Others say it was forged by the hand of Andruil herself to slay the Forgotten Ones, and then there's those who believe it was wielded by Elgar'nan to carry out his vengeance. But whatever the case may be, it is known that the sword has enough power to kill a high dragon with a single stroke."

"Sweet Maker…." Cullen awed. "If such a weapon exists, why don't the elves have it?"

"Indeed. Such a weapon could turn the tide of battle." Leliana added.

"Hubris." Rajmael answered bitterly. "During the Exalted March on the Dales, a group of angry, bitter, stupid elves stole the Sulevin from its holy resting place, kidnapped a group of humans and then used them in some kind of blood ritual to try and enhance the blade's power. And in so doing, they desecrated that holy artifact, and powerful spirits from beyond the Veil answered blood with blood. Some people think that the ritual went wrong and summoned those spirits. Others think that those spirits were the ones who oversaw the creation of the sword and were enraged at the sight of such desecration. But whatever the truth maybe, it is a fact that those angry spirits still guard that Shards of Sulevin, and no one who has ever gone to the Cradle of Sulevin has ever returned."

"Holy Andraste." Leliana whispered. "You knew about this weapon all this time?"

"If it wasn't broken and useless, I would have led an expedition to get the sword before Corypheus did, considering that he is searching for elven artifacts." Rajmael explained practically. "But now Nethras wants it, and that means he's got some kind of plan for that blade. One we must be prepared for."

"You have a plan then?" Cullen asked.

"Yes, but it must be quick, and I can only trust you three to it." Rajmael said with determination. "Leliana, I want you to ready all available scouts and agents you have available get them ready to move. Josephine, call in any favor we have with the other Dalish clans, get their hunters, and Agents Neria anc Cillian to meet with the agents. And Cullen I want you to get The Bull's Chargers ready and wait here." Rajmael placed a pin on the map for the Chargers to standby. "And get Dagna on standby, I want the forge hot and every piece of magical enchantment she has ready by the time I get back."

"And what will you be doing?" Cullen inquired.

"I will be going to the Cradle of Sulevin, and I'm going to get that fucking sword." Rajmael determined with zeal.

"But you said no who has gone there has ever returned, what if something happens to you?" Josephine fretted.

"I survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes, I walked the annals of time, and I stared down Corypheus and his pet dragon. I will take back what belongs to my people, and I will find out Nethras is doing. And I'm taking my people back." Rajmael swore.

The ring and power in Rajmael's voice put his advisors fears to rest. There was no doubt, no hesitation and no fear in the Inquisitor. Josephine scribbled several notes on her clipboard while Cullen left to assemble his ordered forces. Leiana watched as Rajmael walked to the vault where the most priceless treasures they discovered were housed. Leliana could sense a certain change in Rajmael, it was the same one she felt in Aedan when he first discovered the Urn of Sacred Ashes.

Rajmael held the sword Evanura in his hands. The blade glimmered like precious silver in the dark light of the vault. He traced his finger on the elven runes stamped on the blade and felt their power surge through his arm. He would need its strength to help him recover the Sulevin Blade. When he made his way back down he shouldn't have been surprised to see his Councilors waiting for him in the Main Keep.

"Something is different about you, Rajmael." Leliana stated. "Even when we started the Inquisition there wasn't this kind of fire in you. Is it because you blame yourself for what happened to your brother."

Leliana never called Rajmael by his name unless she was being extremely serious. "When I saw Nethras back in that temple, I thought, hoped, that things could go back to the way things used to be. He and I could be brothers, and he could reunite with his daughter. But when I left that temple I realized that there is something different about him. The path he walks is one devoted only to bloodshed, and those who follow him are too angry to care about what damage they might cause. I have to try and bring them back from this path."

"Are you sure that's even possible?" Leliana asked.

"As the First of Clan Lavellan, priest of Dirthamen, and Nethras' brother, it's my duty to try and show them another path to follow. Maybe I can even bring them into the Inquisition." Rajmael answered.

"Inquisitor, you just got done telling us how these fanatics butchered the Freeman of the Dales, like they were pigs in a slaughter house. And all in the name of some ancient god." Cullen derided. Rajmael flashed him an angry glare for the way he said fanatics. "If these men are capable of doing such things, than they may be just as dangerous as the Venatori."

"If what you're saying is true, and these Vir Banal'ras are behind the recent attacks against the Orlesian military, nobility, Sweet Andraste, even the Grand Cathedral then any attempt to recruit them will absolutely destroy the Inquisition's reputation and our relations with other kingdoms." Josephine explain earnestly. "We've only just started gaining the trust of nations, and exactly when we need them most. Anything that jeopardizes that will only assist Corypheus."

"I understand that you want to help him, Inquisitor, but the crimes these elves have committed are grave. Perhaps the best course of action would be to turn this catastrophe into our advantage." Leliana suggested.

"What do you mean by that, Leliana?" Rajmael asked more suspicious than curious.

"You say Nethras trusts you, yes? And you know that way to his base of operations. You could lead a group of our best scouts there, and we can mount a rescue mission." Leliana explained thoughtfully.

"I'd recommend also bringing a contingency of our soldiers to make sure we keep the advantage." Cullen suggested firmly. "Best to put this down now before it gets further out of hand."

Rajmael's initial instinct was to smack both his advisors for making such suggestions. Break his word? To his Nethras? It was unthinkable.

"Leliana, if you were anyone else, I would smack you upside the head you for even thinking that suggestion." Rajmael denied adamantly.

Leliana sighed wearily. "Inquisitor, I know this is hard, but you need to put personal feelings aside."

"You don't know shit, Leliana! None of you do!" Rajmael snapped harshly. "Nethras is my brother, and I gave him my word. I don't know what it's like for bards, Templars, and especially not politicians, but the word of an Arcane Warrior cannot be broken. You would not understand."

Cullen took exception to that statement. "Not understand? I understand more than you might think, Inquisitor! I have siblings as well, and I would do anything to protect them, but this isn't protection! You are letting your personal history with this man cloud your judgment! What happened to him was horrible, but it doesn't excuse the crimes he's committed. As the Inquisitor, your duty is to stop those who spread chaos, not do favors for them!"

Rajmael growled angrily at his Commander, and nearly gave into the impulse to want to strike him.

"You stupid, ignorant shems." The Inquisitor seethed. "What the fuck could any of you know? In case you've forgotten, before you all decided to make me Inquisitor, I was an elf. None of you can possibly understand what that means! A Templar, a bard, a noble, what could the likes of you know what it's like for elves?! None of you know what it's like to wake up every morning knowing the entire world is set against you. You don't understand what it's like to walk through the world and have everyone look at you like you're garbage, to have everything that means something stolen from you. And it's always the likes of people like you, the Chantry and the nobility, who violate my people!"

Pangs of guilt stabbed at each of the Councilor's hearts, and his words cut deeper than any blade ever could. None of the dared to say another word, because everything he said was absolutely true.

"The Chantry broke Nethras the same way it broke me: with fire and destruction!" Rajmael raged. "As his brother, and as an elf, it's my responsibility to stop him, but I will not betray him. This will be done the elven way, not yours. Your way has caused enough damage."

There was nothing any of them could say. Cullen, Leliana, Josephine, they were all at a loss for words. In their hearts, all three of them had sympathy for the elves, but none of them could truly understand what it was like to live as elves do, to suffer as elves do. Compared to the elves, the three of them may as well be from different worlds.

Rajmael turned his back on his advisors, and made his way out.

"And if you fail in the Cradle of Sulevin?" Josephine asked after him very worried.

The Inquisitor looked at his Ambassador with dark resolve behind his eyes. "That, Josephine, is simply not an option."

"We will be ready when you call us." Leliana promised.

They all watched as the Inquisitor made his way out, and all they could do was hope and pray that he knew what he was doing. Going after a long lost elven relic that none lived to return from, while dealing with a cult of elven assassins, and trying to rescue their captured comrades; it seemed like a hopeless endeavor to most. But they all knew Rajmael had beaten impossible odds before, and they also knew that this was truly an elven matter, something he knew more of than any of them. His words left a fire of guilt burning in the back of their minds, and they couldn't help but feel terrible about this whole matter.

"He...he's right. Damn it if he's right." Cullen admitted in shame. "I've seen how horribly the elves are treated back in Kirkwall. Half the Alienage converted to the Qun when the Qunari attacked, and I thought of them as traitors for turning their backs on the Chantry. I didn't realize until later that they didn't owe the Chantry anything. They were always the victims of gangs, slavers and serial killers, but nobody gave a damn. We could have helped them, but in the end we deemed them unimportant."

"It was the same in Denerim's Alienage during the Blight." Leliana recalled with pity. "Condemned building with bodies rotting inside them. They were treated so horribly, Arl Howe led a purge, then Loghain began selling them into slavery. It seems the elves have always been the object of the world's ire."

"Sweet Andraste. I...I never realized it was so terrible for the elves. I never took them time to." Josephine lamented with guilt. "All the times I talk about peace and mutual benefits for everyone at the meeting table, how we should make things better for everyone, yet not once did I ever consider how we might make things better for elves. How many times have I looked at elven servants and never gave them the time of day? Worse yet, how often have I expected elves to be servants?"

"But he was right about another thing. The fault is almost always the same: humans. The Chantry especially." Cullen said damningly.

Leliana was dismayed by the Commander's words. "Cullen, how can you say such a thing?"

"Leliana, you had the fortune to see the Chantry at it's best at Lothering and at Divine Justinia's side, but those were the exceptions, not the rule." Cullen stated pragmatically. "In the real world, the Chantry is something you wouldn't recognize. What Hawke said was true: it was those who served the Chantry who incited violence against the Qunari, and it has always been the Chantry that diminished the elves. Everyone else just followed the Chantry's example, and I'm speaking from personal experience."

For once, Leliana had nothing to say in defense of the Chantry. Nothing she could say could change the fact that Cullen was right. The Chantry had made so many mistakes, and in so doing it made many enemies by demonizing mages, brutalizing elves and diminishing dwarves. The Mage-Templar war was the ultimate proof of the Chantry's failures. No matter what happened, if the Chantry was going to survive this age it needed to change drastically. Maybe Leliana was the one to make sure that it did change, to make sure that Justinia's dream did not die with her...

~XoXoXo~

Rajmael sheathed Enasalin to his hip, and strapped Evanura to his back. When he was training to be an Arcane Warrior, he used to fantasize about reclaiming the Sulevin Blade from its resting place. But the instant he told that to Keeper Deshana, she shattered any and all desire to attempt such a feat. Deshanna relayed to him the horrible fates that befell the elves brave or stupid enough to seek out that sword. How the Revenants who guarded the Shards of Sulevin horrifically murder any and all who dare enter their domain to take their prize. But most of all, she told Rajmael where it could be found so that he might never go there. And now he must have it. To keep it out of the hands of The Elder One…and his brother.

The Cradle of Sulevin…

The Cradle was hidden deep within the Emerald Graves, where to forest was so thick and the wildlife so treacherous none dared traverse these hidden paths. But Rajmael knew the path, and he knew how to navigate the forest. Strange. The closer he got to the Cradle, the more silent the forest became. No birds flying, or even insects scurrying. It was so still he could hear his own heartbeat almost echo through the trees. It was as if all forms of life could sense the power and evil emanating from the once holy place that became tainted by the elves' hatred, anger and pride.

Like many of the elven ruins, the Cradle was now a desecrated corpse of what it once was. Towers fell in ruin while the once mighty walls were left crumbling and were now covered with ivy and thorns. As Rajmael walked the steps up he could feel the dark energy coming from it. The Veil was thin and the demons that dwelled here were waiting. He must not keep them waiting.

Rajmael entered the hall where the energy was at its darkest, most vile. He could feel the Shards' power, they were here. And he could feel the presence of the demons watching him. They were more powerful than the Pride Demon he slew in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. And they were waiting for him.

"Quenethera ne?" The voices of the demons asked from the darkness. Their words laced with malice and murder.

"Emma Rajmael Yonwyn Lavellan." Rajmael answered fearlessly.

"Garas quenethera Rajmael Yonwyn Lavellan." The demonic voices hissed.

Rajmael stood against the darkness with no fear or doubt in his mind and heart. "I am here to claim the Sulevin Blade."

The demons laughed at him from the shadows. Their shrill voices and evil presence was enough to curdle the blood in a man's veins. "What right have you to claim the sword from us?"

"I claim right of inheritance." Rajmael answered audaciously. "That sword was forged by elven hands, and to elven hands it must return."

"It was by elven hands that the sword was tainted. It was by the vanity and hate of The People that we came into being." The demons hissed and mocked. "Many have come to wrest the shards from us. What hope do you have?"

Rajmael drew both his swords and assumed his stance. "I am Dirth'ena Enasalin. I am Rajmael of Clan Lavellan. And I will not falter."

The shadows twisted and contorted within the Cradle. The dark energy and black magic that festered in this place took form. And from the darkness emerged four figures of terrifying horror. Four living corpses almost twice as tall as Iron Bull with fangs that would shame a lion, and eyes burning like the pits of hell beneath their draconic winged helms. Their armor was ancient and inscribed with blasphemous runes that spoke of all the crimes committed in the name of their sin. Each one carrying a disc-like shield bearing their vile names upon the face, and carrying a sword that was as long as they were tall. The Revenants all held out their hands and revealed Rajmael's prize, each carried a Shard of Sulevin in their mailed claws.

"Come…claim the sword. Or claim your death." The Revenants beckoned as the held their swords ready.

Rajmael's eyes burned with determination and power as his Shimmering Shield illuminated the darkness. His swords were ready, and his resolve was absolute. "ENASALIN!"

Back In the Temple of Elgar'nan….

Cassandra hated this situation they were in, probably more so than everyone else, even Sera. They were being held here as hostages, leverage to be used against Rajmael so that he would retrieve some elven sword and get answers from the man who has led several terrorist attacks against Orlais. A man who turned out to be Rajmael's adopted brother Nethras, who he thought was dead. But Nethras was alive, after being captured and tortured by the same templars the attacked his clan and murdered his wife after trying to kidnap his daughter. Now he was leading a cult of elven assassins devoted to a god of vengeance, and planning to do Maker knows what.

Cassandra's already limited patience was reaching its end. She couldn't stand this any longer. Mother Giselle was kneeling with her back to one of the walls reciting the Canticles of Benedictions. Cassandra sometimes wished she had that kind of patience.

"I can't stand this any longer. We need to get out and find out what's going on!" Cassandra growled.

"None of us are happy about being imprisoned, Cassandra dear, but it seems we have no choice." Vivienne sighed. "But thanks to the Inquisitor's incompetent sentimentality, we are prisoners here."

"Do not be so quick to condemn Rajmael's actions, Enchanter." Solas spoke out. "If it weren't for Rajmael's agreement to Nethras' terms, or if he wasn't even here in the first place, we could all very well have been killed by now."

"Heh. After how quickly these elves took us all out, I'd believe it." Varric chuckled sarcastically.

"Grr. Can't believe those little fuckers got the drop on me." Iron Bull grumbled. "Catching The Bull by the horns. Glad Krem wasn't there or I'd never hear the end of it."

"I share your enthusiasm for escape, Seeker. Really, I do." Dorian insisted. "But I've spent the last few hours exhausting every counter spell, charm and hex I know on this door, and it just won't budge. Obviously, it's some kind of ancient elven magic."

"Stupid, friggin' elfy door." Sera whined. "I could unlock the stupid thing if it weren't stupid, friggin' magic."

"Provoking our captors now serves no purpose." Mother Giselle counseled. "It might be wise to wait for the Inquisitor and trust in his judgement."

"I'm more concerned for Marquis Briala." Solas informed. "These elves did not seem pleased with her."

"The Inquisitor said Cole's still out there. Said we should put some faith in the boy." Blackwall reminded. "If Rajmael's willing to do so, I don't see why we can't."

Vivienne rubbed her forehead as though the very suggestion gave her a headache. "Oh, Warden Blackwall….The very fact that you would suggest that we put our lives in the hands of that thing speaks volumes of both your judgment, and the Inquisitor's."

The locks and tumblers in the door rumbled, and it swung open with a long, rusty creak. The two guards that were posted on the door were sprawled to on the ground completely out cold. Then Cole appeared from around the corner, his ridiculously large hat and all, carrying all their weapons.

"Hello! I came to help." Cole said innocently.

Dorian, Varric, Blackwall and Solas all did their best not to snicker and laugh, while Vivienne rigidly stood there trying to hide her awkward embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, Madame de Fer, you were saying something?" Blackwall poked humorously.

"Not. Another. Word." Vivienne seethed.

"Cole, were you able to find our weapons?" Cassandra asked earnestly.

"No...I was too busy trying to find you." Cole answered quiet as a mouse. "But I know where we can find them."

"Then do you know where they've taken Briala?" The Seeker inquired.

"Yes. I can find her. But there's so much pain, so much anger here. It will be hard, but I can find her." Cole promised.

"Well, let's get moving, then. I doubt these guys are gonna be happy to see us out and about." Varric pointed out.

Cole began running down the shadowy halls. "Follow me."

~XoXoXo~

The Spirit of Compassion led them down the dimly lit hallway to another cell similar to the one they were imprisoned in. But this one's magic was different. Unlike the one they were in, this one's enchantments weren't designed for keeping prisoners inside. Which was a good thing because they could hear the sounds of blows landing on the other side, like someone was getting their ass kicked.

"Feel like talking yet?!" Velara yelled on the other side of the door.

"Not even close." Briala's voice defied, quickly followed by another powerful blow.

"Good! Because I'm not bored of this yet." Velara said with twisted glee.

Cole quickly unlocked the door and threw it open. And was greeted by a very surprised Velara.

"Who the fuck!?" The angry assassin cursed. She went for her bora'nan, but Cole threw a powder bomb in her face with a sleeping agent. She cursed and spat, but breathed in nothing but ether, and soon fell to the ground unconscious with her sickle still gripped in her fist. Briala picked herself up and grabbed the daggers strapped to Velara's belt with the intention to finish her off.

"No!" Cole begged. "She is not evil. She is only hurt and angry, and misses her children. She doesn't deserve to die."

Briala thought back to how angry she was when Celene betrayed her back when Halamshiral's alienage was burned. And this woman suffered worse than she did. Briala sighed and removed the daggers from Velara's neck.

"Are you alright, Marquis Briala?" Solas asked politely.

"Seeing as I've just spent the better half of today getting beaten to a pulp, I'm actually doing quite well." Briala answered truthfully. The healing powers of this room was actually extraordinary.

"We're all together again. Now we need to find out what Nethras is planning." Cassandra stated.

"That's the angry one who leads these people?" Cole asked rhetorically. "He is…confusing. I have a hard time understanding him."

Vivienne quirked her eyebrow. "You've seen the elf that leads these terrorists?"

"Yes. So much pain flowing through him like a river. Anger mixed with sorrow, but…there's hope as well." Cole explained in that strange tone of his. "He wants to hurt the people who hurt him. He wants to help by hurting."

That seemed more fanatical than confusing. And certainly dangerous. "Can you find him, Cole?" Cassandra asked.

"Yes. He is calling the others to meet him. He wants to show them how they must take back what is theirs. I think he wants to hurt more people." Cole answered almost fearfully.

A stroke of inspiration that could only have passed through the mind of an author struck Varric's head. "If they're all going to this rally, then that means there won't be as many guards skulking around. We can find a way out of here!"

"I agree with Master Tethras." Vivienne concurred. "I've had enough of this place to last a lifetime."

"What they said. I don't want to be around this creepy elfy crap any more." Sera shuddered. Which was a surprise because she never agreed with Vivienne on anything.

"What about the Inquisitor? He expects us to trust him." Dorian reminded.

"These guys have an axe to grind with anyone who screwed with the elves, Dorian. What do you think they'll do to a pampered nobleman from Tevinter?" Iron Bull asked rhetorically.

That changed the Tevinter mage's mind pretty quickly. "Hmm. Good point. Let's find that exit!"

"Not so fast, Sparkler. Before we can leave, we gotta find our gear." Varric pointed out.

Blackwall nodded his bearded face to the dwarf. "I agree. I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't fancy running into one of these elven assassins with just my hands empty."

"Well, yeah there's that, too. But I'm more concerned about getting Bianca back. Who knows what these cutthroats might be doing to her!" Varric spoke with the genuine concern and fear a man would have for his wife. His attachment to his crossbow was almost disturbing to his companions.

"Can you take us to our gear without being noticed?" Briala asked.

"Yes. I know how to move in the darkness. And anyone who finds us, I can make them forget." Cole answered quietly.

~XoXoXo~

Cole led his companions silently through the shadows and navigated the dark corridors of this ancient temple. It was difficult for most of them to move without fumbling around because of how dark it was inside, and most of them didn't have the night vision to see properly. Even the torches that were actually lit seemed to make it even darker. As if by design, it seemed this entire temple was built for elven eyes and their superior night vision to maneuver around this bleak place.

The Spirit of Compassion was able to lead them to a securely locked door without being detected. He fiddled with the lock a little and was able to get it to click open, revealing a dark chamber on the other side. Everyone scurried inside before they were seen, shut the door while Dorian lit some torches to illuminate the room. And there, sitting on a nearby table like holiday present, was all their weapons and gear that Nethras' men had confiscated from them.

"Bianca! Oh, Bianca, Daddy's missed! Oh, you're so cold. Don't worry, I'll never leave you again." Varric whispered to his beloved crossbow like he was whispering into the ear of a dear lover. The way he caressed and held the inanimate object was almost disturbing to the rest of them.

Blackwall grabbed Thunderstrike and his shield while Cassandra sheathed The Avenger. Vivienne and Solas grabbed their staves, and Dorian tuned his magic with Toth's Torch. Sera checked her arrows and made sure her bow string was still taught. Iron Bull grinned widely as he felt the weight of the axe called Anaan in his hands and gave it a few test swings.

Iron Bull offered a dagger to Mother Giselle. "Here, Chantry Mother, you'll probably need this. It isn't much, but it might help."

"No, thank you. My faith in the Maker is my protection." Mother Giselle gently refused as she pushed the weapon away from her.

"Yeah? Well, I hope those prayers make you sickle-proof." Iron Bull said sarcastically has put the dagger in his belt. "'Cause these elves sure know how to use those damned things."

Blackwall stood near the door to make sure they were ready in case someone suddenly dropped in while they were getting ready to leave. Sera, on the other hand, couldn't ignore her kleptomaniacal urges, and started scrounging around the room, scrounging for anything valuable.

"Looking for anything in particular, Buttercup?" Varric asked, strapping Bianca to his back.

"You all saw all the goodies and shinnies that creepy elf had locked away in that room, maybe he's got some other things stashed away." Sera answered, her eyes scanning the room.

"You would steal what these people have worked so hard to take back? Relics that have more than monetary value? Isn't that hypocritical of you, Sera?" Solas asked disapprovingly.

Sera blew a raspberry and a two-fingered salute at the elven apostate. "Hippo-what? These creeps stole this stuff first, and there's nothing wrong with taking form takers."

The thief's eyes locked onto a nearby table. It was very large and there was a sheet covering the very large contents that were on it. This had to be worth something for it be covered and locked away in this room like it was. "Ooh. Wonder what kind of shinnies this guy has hidden under here."

Sera ripped the large sheet off and revealed what was hidden beneath it. A shocked screech escaped her throat at the sight of what she found. Fearing the Red Jenny might bring unwanted attention with her screeching, everyone turned their attention to the loudmouthed elf, and saw what she screeched at, and almost did the same thing. Laid strewn were about a dozen dead bodies. Each desiccated corpse was in a state of decomposition none of them recognized. Their faces and flesh were shriveled as if the life had been sucked out of them, leaving nothing but dried out husks. The clothes they still wore were now so loos they could slid right off of them Each of them had terrible burns in their eye sockets and open mouths, like someone put flaming hot coals in them.

"Sweet Maker. What happened to these people?" Cassandra gasped in horror.

"They look like a bunch of dried out prunes left out in the sun." Iron Bull observed.

"Who were these people, and what could they possibly have done to have deserved a fate like this?" Mother Giselle asked with deep regret and sympathy for the poor souls on the table.

"Wouldn't bother feeling too much sympathy for these men, Mother." Blackwall said gruffly. "These poor bastards were Freeman of the Dales."

Blackwall pointed to the clothing the dead men were still wearing and everyone noticed that it was the same uniform and colors the now wiped out Freeman of the Dales all wore. All of them still vividly recalled what the Vir Banal'ras did to anyone they found wearing those uniforms, and it wasn't pretty.

"The Freeman were all killed horribly, but this is different." Solas pointed out. "They took the effort kill them brutally, but why would they take the time to capture them and do...whatever this is to them?"

"Solas, darling, it should be obvious, even to someone whose never had a proper education. These people are insane fanatics. They are beyond reason." Vivienne said snidely.

"You gotta be crazy to do something like this to someone. If ya hate 'em, just shoot 'em! Don't be gross and turn them into...people-jerky!" Said Sera, completely grossed out.

Varric took a closer look at the table and found something that any self-respecting writer would first notice. A book., old and worn out, but it was still in pretty good shape.

"Maybe this can give us some insight into what went on in here. Looks like some kind of journal" Varric guessed. He opened the journal and flipped through its pages, checking to make sure he could actually read it. Upon seeing it was legible, Varric cleared his throat and began reading it. "Evanura, my darling, beloved Evanura..."

"Evanura? That...that was Nethras' wife. Eva's mother!" Cassandra recalled.

"Then that must mean this is his journal. This might give us the answers we've been looking for." Briala stated.

"Well, then, let's allow Varric to do what he does best, and bump his gums." Dorian encouraged.

"Alright, let's see what little secrets Nethras is keeping." Varric cleared his throat and began reading the journals entries aloud.

Entry One:

Written old and worn with dark splotches on the pages, that looked like dried blood.

Evanura, my darling, beloved Evanura,

It has been weeks now since the Templars and their damned Chantry took you from me. Weeks since I sought to avenge your murder at the hands of they holy knights. Months since I failed. I found your killers, but in my rage, I got careless and they overpowered me. They sought to make an example of me and take me to their putrid Divine. I would have welcomed the opportunity to meet the head of the humans' wretched religion if only to spit in her face. What manner of tyrant is she to lead a religion that steals and brutalizes our people and dare call it righteousness?

After weeks of starving and torturing me, I managed to escape during a blizzard while we were passing through the Frostbacks, but not before one of the bastards was able to cut me deeply. There's not a doubt in my mind now that everyone of those shemlen shits are either frozen dead, or now food for carrion, but I'm not much better.

I crawled my way into a crevice in the mountain side, then fell into a cavern. So here I am, starving, beaten, bones broken, and bleeding like a stuck pig. It seems I am very likely going to die here. The one upside about dying in a dark cave in the middle of nowhere is that Rajmael isn't here to bend my ear about how foolish I was.

If these are indeed my final moments, then I must beg your forgiveness, ma vhenan. I failed our clan as a hunter when I couldn't stop the Templars. I failed you as a husband when I couldn't prevent your death. And I failed our daughter as a father, because I will never be there for her. I close my eyes now, and pray that I will see you in the Beyond, if it's what I deserve.

Dareth shiral,

Nethras.

Entry Two:

It would seem the Creators are cruel in their judgment of me, Evanura. Instead of waking to find you in the Beyond, I wake up once more in this damned cave, starving and in horrible agony. Why must I still live when there are others amongst our clan who deserved to live more?

My wound has stopped bleeding, but I can hear the blizzard still raging on outside. I cannot reach the exit nor would I dare brave it my condition, so I will venture further in these caverns. I will either find a way out of this damned mountain, or maybe run into darkspawn. Either way, I don't expect to live much longer, if the Creators are merciful.

I must confess, there is something strange here. As I continued to wander these caverns, I felt like something was drawing me me further into the darkness. Like a strong compulsion that you cannot help but follow, like a moth to flame. The deeper I go, the clearer it becomes, like a call at the very edge of my mind. Given my luck, I'm probably going insane, but seeing as I've got nothing better to do, I may as well keep going, at least until my wounds kill me.

...It's strange. The feeling's gotten stronger now. Not louder or unbearable, but like a resounding boom in harmony with my own heartbeat. Like it's signaling me that I'm getting closer. But closer to what? Sadly, my wounds are getting worse. I can practically smell the infection, and I'm getting feverish. I'm not going to stop now, though. I'd like to satisfy my curiosity before I die, it might make an amusing story to tell my wife when I reach the afterlife. One that might even mask my shame.

Entry Three:

I've found something. That call I felt started sounding like war drums pounding in the back of my mind and in tandem with my pulse. I went into some sort of trance and found myself stumbling in these ancient ruins. At first I thought they might have been dwarven, seeing as I must be in the heart of the mountain, but once I got a better look at the walls and saw their design, I realized that these were elven ruins! Untouched, perfectly preserved. By Mythal's mercy, I've made a discovery that might make even Keeper Deshana green with envy!

Oh, Evanura, how I wish that you and Rajmael were here right now. The paintings I've found on these walls would make your heart soar, ma vhenan. You could have learned so much from these pieces of art, or maybe even added to it. I can see Rajmael picking a part every piece of these ruins to decipher some kind of meaning from them, and marveling at the works of our ancestors. Though I know this to all be vain, after all, what's the point of making such a discovery if there's no one else to know of it?

It would seem I have found the perfect place to die, ma vhenan. I barely have the strength to continue writing any more. There's a basin here with water as clear as the sky, and I may as well die refreshed. I toast my final moments to you, Evanura, to our daughter, and to this testament to our people's glory that will become my tomb.

Dareth shiral, ma vhenan...

Entry Four:

I...I can't explain it, Evanura. I should be dead, yet not only am I not, but I am completely healed! It was the water from the basin that I drank, it must have been. Not only am I completely healed, but I feel stronger than I have ever been! I was trying to get past a stone door that was sealed shut, I pushed it in frustration and smashed the wall into dust! Even on my best day, I could never do such a thing! What manner of ruin is this? I must learn more about it...

I'll admit archaeology and history were never my strong suits. I was the clan's hunter, not the First, but after decades of having and Keeper Deshana in my ears and exploring ruins with Rajmael, I was able to learn more than they might think. From what I have gathered, this ruin was a holy place for our people, a temple. The statues here, the great chambers, even the paintings on the walls, they are all so perfectly well preserved. Judging from the altars and the icons in this place, I am led believe that this is some kind of temple. A place where our ancestors congregated in prayer, or something like it.

Unlike most ruins that I have been in, that look like they were destroyed in war or some kind of cataclysm, this place is so perfectly preserved it leads me to believe it was abandoned. If so, then why? Why would our ancestors abandon this place? For whatever reason, it seems that by leaving this place, they were able to keep it from being destroyed by human hands. Perhaps I can discover the reason for myself.

I wish Rajmael were here, he could help me decipher these ancient runes and writings. I wish you were here, ma vhenan, I know this place would have meant so much to you. Perhaps, when I am done here, I can bring Eva and the rest of our clan to this place, to rediscover our lost heritage.

Entry Five:

I was wrong! So very wrong. Not only have I discovered the true nature of this place, but now I believe that it is no mere coincidence that I found it. This was a temple, but it wasn't used as a place of worship. It was a training center for warriors who served the Creators personally, and I have discovered which of our gods this temple was dedicated to: Elgar'nan, the All-Father, First of the Sun, and god of vengeance! And these warriors, they were Vir Banal'ras! Shadow Warriors trained to be the All-Father's weapons of vengeance.

The murals on the walls here depict how these warriors trained and fought, how they wielded strength that surpassed anyone else's. How they struck from the shadows with their Bora'nan and burning eyes. Now I know how they received such abilities. It was that basin I drank from. It's carries some kind of blessing from Elgar'nan himself. Elgar'nan enansal!

I no longer believe that it is merely chance that I found this place. I was on a quest to avenge my wife, and I came here, beaten, bloody and broken, ready to die, then I felt some sort of call that led me to this place, to partake in Elgar'nan's Blessing. But to what end? For what reason do I have this blessing? My wife is dead, and so are her killers. I...I could go back to my clan now, and see my daughter again, but the shame is just too much to bear. I couldn't protect Eva when it mattered, and I couldn't even avenge Evanura's death properly. I would return to my clan as a disgrace, and bring nothing but shame to daughter.

I will stay here, for now, and continue to study and decipher what the Vir Banal'ras were truly capable of. Perhaps, by unlocking these ancient secrets, I can absolve myself of my shame, and return to my daughter with a piece of our history that will benefit all elves.

Entry Six:

My darling Evanura,

It has been two years now since I exiled myself to this ancient ruin. I spend my days honing my skills, studying the ways of the ancient Vir Banal'ras and unlocking the secrets of this temple. I now understand that Elgar'nan's wrath was a terrible and bloody thing. Something even the Chantry and the Imperium could not possibly understand. Thus the Vir Banal'ras was created, to be the agents of his wrath. The things I've learned would make all the Keepers at the Arlath'vhen question what they think they know about our history. For it is bloodier than they ever knew it to be.

I will confess, ma vhenan, that there are many days where I am tempted to just simply leave this place. Not a day goes by that I don't think of our daughter and how she is doing. I know Rajmael and my parents are taking good care of her, better care than I could probably give her. I...I still remember the day Rajmael delivered Eva and put her into my arms. I remember how happy you were to be a mother, and how blessed I was to have you both. But then I remember why I am no longer worthy to be a hunter of Clan Lavellan. How I failed the clan when I let the Templars kill you and so many others of our clan. I cannot return, not yet.

I wish that I wasn't writing this entry in such a pathetic state, but what I learned today reminded me of things I wish I could undo. By chance, I was walking the mountain passes when I came across a group of our City Elven brethren. They were starving and exhausted to the point of death, so I brought them here and gave them food. There are so many of them, enough to form a clan. How could I turn them away?

They tell me that they are from Halamshiral, our former capital. They tell me how they were sick of the human nobles treating them like garbage on land that rightfully belongs to them and declared mien'heral against them. They told me how the Orlesian bitch Empress purged their Alienage like their lives meant nothing, like their demands for justice were nothing.

I feel for our City Elf brothers and sisters, I truly do. I think back to when Rajmael was adopted into our clan because the humans killed his parents, and I know that the elves who live with humans must suffer daily under shem'len boots. They tell me the Empress did it so that she could focus her attention on waging a war against a cousin who wants to usurp her throne. That damned chair of hers means more to her than the lives of our people, and what one more crime against the elves when she wants to rule an empire? Bitch.

They have also told me of an elven woman named Briala who is leading a rebellion against the humans. Not only is she leading it, she's is successful. Apparently, she has some sort of ancient relic at her disposal. Good. I hope she bloodies those shems' noses. It's about time one of our kind shows the Orlesians not to tread on our people.

I have resolved to teaching our city elf kin in the ways of the Vir Banal'ras, so that they might contribute to Briala's rebellion. Amongst them is a woman named Velara. She has told me of everything she has lost, and my heart weeps for her. Of them all, I think she might be the most worthy of the Elgar'nan Enansal, and she is most eager to learn the ways of the Vir Banal'ras. She is a gifted student, no doubts about that. I have agreed to teach them what I know so that they might aid in the rebellion, but I ask that they tell no one where they learned it, I don't want the news to somehow reach our clan.

Our City Elven brethren also tell me that now there is a war between the mages and Templars. Apparently, the Chantry is so weak and feeble now that it can't hold the leashes on those they wish to hold like dogs. I hear that the Divine wants to hold some sort of peace talks, some kind of Conclave to bring the mages and Templars back into the fold. I hope that bitch and all her Templars burn in that Conclave of hers.

Entry Seven:

You wouldn't believe how much I was laughing my ass off when I woke up this morning. I heard from one of the refugees who brings me news of the war that the Divine was actually blown up, along with her whole damned Conclave. Best news I've heard in years! It was a wish come true. Sometimes the Creators actually answer our prayers.

But now the remaining servants of the Divine are calling for something called an "Inquisition", probably just another call to their hypocritical holy wars, like their Exalted Marches. But that's not the best part; they are declaring the only person to survive to be the Herald of Andraste, and he's a fucking elf! If their Maker really exists, then he must really hate their guts! I wish could have see the looks on those Chantry biddies' faces when they heard this news. To have an elf declared higher than them must have made twisted their robes into knots.

Velara came back to continue her lessons, and as I mentioned before, she is an eager and capable student. She informs me that the elven rebels are now a force to be reckoned with. Both Gaspard and Empress Celene are now noticing their capability and taking losses, though neither of them would ever admit it. It would be too embarrassing for them to admit they're being hampered by us pitiful knife-ears, or worse yet, they'd have to actually acknowledge our existence as something more than mere servants.

Lately I have been hearing news about these so-called Freeman of the Dales. Deserters and traitors from both sides of the Orlesian Civil War who've abandoned their oaths, and now seek to take the Dales for themselves. That's low, even to someone like me. It makes me sick that these traitors and oathbreakers dare to lay claim to our rightful land. It sickens me further that these Orlesians are destroying the Dales with their pitiful war, like it's actually theirs to ruin.

This land was promised to us by their damned Andraste, and after taking it from us, they use it like a commodity or a cheap whore to be used and discarded when they're done with it. With the blessings of the Creators, Velara is right and Briala will take back this land for the elves.

I must confess, Evanura, that this alleged Herald of Andraste intrigues me. If this this Herald truly is an elf, then he is the first of our people to be risen so high since Thane Shartan. I am curious as to what this could mean for our people. Time will tell.

Entry Eight:

Velara came back this week, and told me news I cannot believe. I refuse to!

She told me that this New Inquisition has been attacked, their base of operations in Haven has been completely destroyed. All done by some fanatical cult worshiping yet another would-be god from Tevinter. Apparently, the delusional peons of the Chantry's faith believe that the Herald was actually slain then came back to them, and now he has been declared the official leader of the New Inquisition. His name is Inquisitor Rajmael!

It's not him, it can't be. Rajmael hates the Chantry for everything it did to him, our clan, our family! He would never turn his back on our people and our beliefs to serve the Chantry and its hollow Maker. My brother would never betray us like this!

I...I will not make any kind of judgment on him. I know my brother, and I know he would never do anything unless he had his reasons. From what I understand, the dogs of the Chantry were blaming him for the Divine's death. No doubt they were using that as a leash to make him serve their purpose. I wouldn't put anything past the Chantry at this point.

From what I've been informed, the Orlesian Civil War has been drawn into a tight stalemate. None of the three contenders are making a move against one another, and while they all concentrate on their next move, these Freemen of the Dales are digging in deep and becoming harder to get rid of. Like bloated ticks. Velara has come to me with more of our people, City Elves who have been wronged and want justice for what Gaspard and Celene's armies took from them. Creators willing, they can win this war and evict the usurpers from our land.

Perhaps, in time, I can learn more of what my dear little brother is truly up to.

Entry Nine:

It has been made clear to me now. I now understand what I was wrong about, and I know now why I am here.

Earlier this week, Velara told me there was some kind peace talks at Halamshiral. Rajmael was there, and he ended up killing Gaspard that night. Split his skull in two, from what I've been told. But it's not what happened to that shem that concerns me. It's what didn't happen to the other shem who was fighting for the throne. When Velara told me of what happened, I nearly puked. It would seem that Briala and Celene have kissed and made up, and now Briala is Marquis of the Dales, the first elf to ever own land and titles in Orlesian history.

What a load of utter bullshit! Is that what this whole rebellion was?! Just some way for Briala to get back at the woman who slighted her? And now that they're back together again, everything is supposed to be all sunshine and roses?! What about all the elves whose homes were burned by the empress and all the lives she destroyed? What about justice!? Now, after everything the City Elves fought to have, Briala is content to simply return to her lover's arms and be just another noble who kisses the empress' ass.

Velara and all the elves she has brought to me are beyond outraged. They wanted Celene's ass in a sling and her head on a pike. Now Briala would simply have them forget what the empress did to them, and go back to being happy smiling servants to Orlais. They do not accept this, I will not accept this.

I know now why I didn't die, why I discovered this place. It was no mere coincidence that I found this temple when I was traveling the Vir Banal'ras. It wasn't chance that I was led to this temple. It was fate that I didn't die and partook in Elgar'nan's Blessing.

I can no longer sit idly by in this temple while our people are denied the justice they deserve. I was led here by the All-Father to discover the true strength of the Path of Shadows, and to wreak his vengeance those who wronged us. Velara and those she has brought will follow me, and I will lead them as Briala failed to do.

I go now to lead them against the usurpers who have dared to defile our rightful land with their presence. We will start with the Freeman of the Dales.

Final Entry:

My Darling Evanura,

It would seem I am not as rusty as I thought I was. In fact, I dare say that my skills and abilities are better than they have ever been. My studies and training in the Elgar'nan's Bastion were not for nothing.

So far, my plan has been working out very well, and my students' knowledge of the shemlen world has proved invaluable. We have been striking at the nobles where it hurts the most, and taking back pieces of our history that they stole from us. Every one of them, a trespasser against our people; we've left no survivors. These people have benefited from elven suffering and treated us as slaves in our land for centuries. If we must suffer for their ignorance and bigotry, then so must they.

Paron, one of my first students, gave his life to strike a crippling blow against the remains Chevaliers. Paron allowed the Elgar'nan Enansal to consume him, and he took all the soldier who stood in his way with him in a ball of flame. He was so eager to learn, so ready to give his life for our people. He was a devout student and Vir Banal'ras, and I shall mourn his passing. Halam'shivanas, the Sweet Sacrifice of duty. For those of us who walk the path, there is no greater honor.

Our work against the Freeman of the Dales is nearly complete. We have hunted the Freeman of the Dales to their last holdouts. Now only their pathetic commanders remains, and they will die in horrible, screaming agony. After all the crimes they've committed, the pain and suffering they've caused, they deserved nothing less. Velara succeeded in bringing some of them alive for interrogation, but it won't save them from their deserved judgment.

I have been conducting my experiments on these deserters, and the results have proven my theories. In the time of Arlathan, humans were not a part of our existence, so nothing of ours was compatible with them. No doubt that was part of their reason for destroying anything that was ours. Against the advice of my fellows, I administered the Elgar'nan Enansal to these Freeman we captured, an honor they unworthy of. And it was their unworthiness that killed them.

It didn't just kill them like a poison would, it was as if the waters of the basin just rejected them. It burned them from the inside out until there was noting left but their hollowed out shell. It's as if humans are unworthy of Elgar'nan's Blessing. Humans have always been unworthy, and that is our saving grace.

I know that we could never defeat the humans through strength of arms. Shemlen breed like cockroaches, and the instant any of them see elves rising above their accepted station, they'll band together to put us down again. This time will be different, and it is Elgar'nan's Blessing that will be our secret weapon. And now I can utilize it where it is most effective.

I have found it, Evanura. The ancient temple where the priests of the ancient empire would grant the blessings of the Creators, and those blessings would flow through the rest of the world. Soon, their waters will flow with the Blessings of Elgar'nan, and the world of the shemlen will learn how unworthy they are.

I have been receiving reports that the Inquisitor has been seen in the Dales. In the Dirthavera, the Emerald Graves, and even Sulevin Keep. They describe a Dalish mage with red hair who wields a sword of white flame and fights with a style of skill and sorcery that surpasses any Chevalier or Knight-Enchanter.

So it's true, my little brother does lead the Inquisition. I didn't want to believe it, but there is no other elf in all of Thedas who could possibly fit that description. Rajmael must have his reasons, I know he does. He would never set our people aside for the shemlen and their Chantry. If he is in the Dales, then he too is probably trying to route out the Freeman of the Dales, and if that's true, then there is not a doubt in my mind that our paths will cross soon. I just hope that he understands that what I am doing is for the betterment of our people.

I go now to finish off this General Maliphant and what's left of the Freeman, then I will continue my plans at Nehn'Numinas. There will be no going back after this, and the blood I shed will be more than anyone else can bare. I just hope, Evanura, that you will understand why I am doing this. The humans have never brought our people anything but humiliation, pain, and misery. I know this all too well. They are a plague on this world that destroys anything that they can't understand or defies their prejudices. Elves will never truly be free so long as this cancer plagues the world we once ruled.

The path I am about to take is one of blood and misery, one no good man would ever walk, but it's the only path the humans have left me with. Death, destruction and pain is the only thing they understand, and so I will visit it back on them all for what they did to our people. This is the only way elves can ever take back our place in the world, and the only way I know to make sure our daughter's future will never be threatened.

No matter what happens, I hope you will not think less of me for this, Evanura. And when this is all over, I hope to hold Eva once again and give her a world where she will never live in fear.

With all my love,

Nethras.

~XoXoXo~

Varric closed the journal and placed it down respectfully. A man poured his heart into every word he wrote in that, and it wasn't something to be treated disdainfully. After reading all that, Varric didn't know what to feel about their captor. It seemed like everyone else had the same feelings of confliction.

Mother Giselle wiped a heartfelt tear from her eye. The pain written in those words touched her deeply. "That poor man...I have no words. Nothing anyone could say could justify what was done to him."

"Oh, holy Maker." Cassandra breathed sorrowfully. "In all the years I served the Chantry, tried to serve the will of the Maker, tried to serve justice, I never gave thought to those the Chantry has wronged. How could we be so blind?"

"It was a mistake to arm our faith with swords. Reinforcing our faith with steel and bigotry was inevitable, and the elves became the object of our ire." Mother Giselle admitted sadly. "Rajmael and his brother have every right to hate us because we failed."

Guilt stabbed at Cassandra like an arrow in her back. How could she have been such a hypocrite? All her years of speaking of justice, protecting the weak and innocent, and yet these were the people the Chantry abused the most. The Chantry she served had victimized so many people, it was no wonder it made so many enemies, and these elves were only some of the latest victims of their neglect.

"The Chantry became more about politics than of faith, and those politics abused so many, made so many enemies." Cassandra realized regrettably. "Justinia tried to change it, but the Chantry was too set in its ways, and even she couldn't hold back the wave of anger of those who had suffered under our neglect. If the Chantry is to ever survive, if we are to ever become the light Andraste wished us to be, it must change its course. We can no longer be blind to suffering, or let our actions be dictated by petty prejudices."

"You really think that's possible, Seeker?" Varric asked doubtfully. "I mean, you've seen how willing many of the Chantry members are to radicle change and acceptance of new ideas. Like when they disavowed you, the Herald and the Inquisition as heresy? Heck, the Shaperate of Orzammar is more flexible than the Chantry."

"That is precisely why it needs a new Divine." Cassandra answered.

"The hurt inside him is like a knife planted in his heart. Every day it's like someone is twisting it, pushing it deeper. They taught him how to be cruel, now he wants to be cruel back to make the pain stop. He thinks that by hurting them, they will stop hurting what he loves." Cole said sadly.

"Shit, if someone killed my old tamasraan and all her kids, I'd want some payback, too." Iron Bull grunted. "It's stories like this that prove what the Qunari think of the South is correct."

"Nethras has every right to hate the damned world. What's it ever done for him or any elf that's ever lived?" Blackwall commented sternly. "Nobles get fat while elves starve and are treated like shit, is it any wonder they're all so damned angry all the time?"

"What happened to these elves is terrible, I won't deny that, but they are woefully misguided if they think these attacks will do anything but bring the entire world against them." Vivienne spoke with faux sympathy. "No different than when the mages and Templars rebelled against the Chantry."

Dorian laughed like Vivienne told a poor joke "Ha! And you always like to point everyone else's ignorance but never notice your own, Enchanter. You Southerners still hold Tevinter in contempt for things that were done centuries ago, before even your forefathers were alive, yet you hate my country as if we did it just last year."

"The world still feels the aftereffects of what your ancestors did Dorian, and we judge your country for what it still does today." Vivienne disputed as fact.

"That's exactly my point!" Dorian stated. "These elves have only ever known the Chantry as some oppressive entity that has done nothing but take from them, and diminish them, whether you're Dalish or not. To elves like Nethras, the Chantry must be the most evil thing about human in existence."

Solas nodded his head in agreement. "Indeed. So many crimes have been committed against elvenkind for centuries by the Chantry, yet not once has the Divine ever taken responsibility. Is it any wonder that elves or mages would rebel?"

"And thus they give the nobles cause to purge Alienages, and Templars to annul Circles." Vivienne reasoned condescendingly. "You cannot act against those in power and then expect them not to respond harshly."

"And it's always the ones in power who continue the cycle." Solas argued back. "The oppressed will always struggle against their oppressors, and they, more often than not, have nothing to lose and everything to gain."

"Well...it would seem you had quite the admirer in Nethras, Marquis." Varric recalled, trying to guide away from the argument between the mages.

"So it would seem." Briala acknowledged morosely.

"Admiration that quickly turned into animosity. It would seem these elves wanted more than just seeing their leader get a title and lands." Solas pointed out.

"You think I don't know that? You think I waged a rebellion just to get back at Celene, that I was only out for myself and using the elves as my excuse?!" Briala demanded vehemently.

"Yeah, actually. That's exactly what I think." Sera scoffed impudently. "You talk a big game about elves, elves, elves, but all you were doing was trying to get back at the empress who pissed you off, and got people hurt."

Briala glared daggers at the other city elf, and looked as if she wanted to smack her. "And just who are you to speak, Red Jenny? You and your little group of troublemakers like to talk about how you stand up for the little people, but not once did I ever see you or any of your 'friends' aiding the elves who were left homeless and starving after Halamshiral's alienage was purged! I chose the path that I believed would best help our people in the long run. What have you ever done for anyone else?"

"I don't get people hurt, or try to become one of those prissy nobs and pretend I'm doing to help! You faker!" Sera argued angrily.

"How can you think of judging others for their cause when you care so little for your own, Sera?" Solas asked accusingly. "If these people were humans instead of elves, just like the ones we saw in Fairbanks' company, you would be full of sympathy for them and agree with their grievances. You truly are a hypocrite."

For once, Solas' words actually hit Sera in a soft spot. "No, I...I don't...You know what? Go twang your ears! Both of you! If what elves believed weren't so stupid, I wouldn't need to not like 'em so much, would I!?"

Briala finally had enough. She thought the Dalish elves she encountered were racist, but Briala had forgotten that it was almost always other City Elves who turn on their own kind the most, no different than the shemlen. Still angry at what she went through with Velara, and no longer willing to put up with another elf's condemnation, Briala slapped Sera across the face for her ignorant words.

"Oh, why you little...!" Sera's left cheek burned, and she drew her bow in anger at the Marquis.

Iron Bull, Black Wall and Cassandra got between the two hostile elves, and tried to break them up before their hostilities turned into fatalities.

"I think you lot are all forgetting the most important part of why we're here." Blackwall informed sternly.

"Yeah, in case you've forgotten, we're still in a temple filled with a cult of hostile elves. Maybe you'd rather settle this when we've escaped and aren't going to be killed on sight?" Iron Bull suggested.

Cassandra nodded her head in acknowledgment. "Agreed. Cole? Can you lead us out of here without being seen?"

"Yes. But we'll need to be quick. Everyone is gathering out there, and I think they want to hurt someone." Cole answered warningly. "They want to hurt everyone."

~XoXoXo~

Cole tried sneaking them back through the Great Hall to get to the exit. If they were quiet enough, they might be able to get out of here. Unfortunately, the Great Hall was where most of the inhabitants of the temple had gathered here. It was dark as pitch in here, the only source of light was found from the bannisters which blazed like furnaces on the stage. No one had noticed them; whatever magic Cole had was keeping them concealed so far. They managed to hide on the ramparts overlooking the hall, and could see that all the elves were excited to be here, like they were expecting something grand to happen. Looked like some kind of rally was going on.

"We are Vir Banal'ras!" Nethras cried as he entered the hall. His followers roared their approval. "We are the shadows who serve the sun! We are Elgar'nan's representatives in this world. Earthly agents of his divine punishment. Our mission is to exact his vengeance upon all those who dare threaten The People!"

The gathered crowed clung to Nethras' every word and cheered like an angry mob with every sentence.

"The world of the shemlen has stolen everything from us! Our kingdoms, our families, our very freedom. And still they want more!" Nethras continued. "They tell us that we must submit to their false Maker and his dead Andraste! That our Creators are demons meant to be cast down. I say their Maker is the usurper! He stole the rightful place of our gods, and the humans stole our rightful place in this world!"

His zealotry and charisma raised the voices and morale of all the elves in the hall. It was like a storm of voices had gathered in here.

"They strip us of our heritage, forbid us from speaking of Thane Shartan. Tell us that we must roll over for them and allow ourselves to abused, and thank them for it. To accept what they've done to us, what they continue to do to us, and thank them for what little they allow us to have. Like cattle. Are you cattle!?"

"NOO-OO!" The crowd answered.

"Or are you Elves!?"

"ELVES!"

"Then we must show the shemlen, the Orlesian Empire and the Chantry what that truly means!" Nethras' voice shook the very air. "We must strike from the shadows, and burn our enemies with the power of the sun. With Elgar'nan's Blessing!"

There was that term again, the one that started this whole nightmare. Elgar'nan's Blessing. What is that?

"The Chantry demands that you abandon your identities as elves and embrace the empty promises and hollow teachings of their absent Maker and dead Andraste." Nethras spoke with anger and disgust in his voice, which was reflected by his followers. "They told your ancestors that if they surrendered their beliefs and their heritage they would be protected. Where is the Chantry when Chevaliers rape your daughters and murder your sons?! Where was the Divine when Empress Celene burned your Alienage?! WHAT DOES THE CHANTRY EVER GIVE YOU?!"

"Nothing!"

"The Chantry sits back and watches while we suffer!"

"They ask us to give them tithes while we're starving!"

Nethras looked on his fellow elves grimly, acknowledging their pain and anger. "If there is anything that the shemlen and their Chantry has taught me, it is this: if you want something in this world, if you want justice, or peace you have to take it, and kill anyone who gets in your way! Take it! Take it!"

"TAKE IT! TAKE IT! TAKE IT!" The elves roared.

"And so we will take it. The shemlen and their putrid Chantry have taken enough from us, it's finally time we take back from them." Nethras continued grimly. "Brothers and sisters, my Vir Banal'ras, I have asked you here to shed blood, and if need be, to die for the sake of our people. To take up justice for our people. I will never ask anything of you that I will not do myself. And tonight…I will show you what that means."

Nehtras snapped his fingers and several of his guards hauled nearly a dozen people blinded by hoods on to the stage and chained them to nearby posts. The last one, obviously a man. Was dragged before Nethras. His hood was removed and revealed a balding, fleshy man in his late forties with a peppered beard and thick sideburns. The man had a look of utter fright on his paunchy face, but Nethras' face was twisted with ardent hatred and ecstatic joy.

"Paul Messign!" Nethras addressed with hatred and poison burning in his eyes. "Three years ago, my clan traded with you for supplies. We acted honorably and fairly, and you returned our amicability by giving us diseased blankets! Then you sent the Templars after my clan. And for what!? Just because we were elves trying to make our own way in the world!"

Paul tried to maintain a fearless façade, but the fear on him was obvious. "I…I only regret that we didn't kill of you heathen knife-ears!"

"Your crimes against my people were heinous. Because of what you did, I lost many members of my clan, including my wife!" Nethras seethed in hate and anguish. "You murdered my family in the name of your god, now I shall return the favor. And vengeance loves irony."

Cassandra and the others could only watch in horror, while Mother Giselle prayed fervently for the Maker's intervention, as Nethras followers wrapped their prisoners in blankets that had been soaked in some kind of liquid. The hooded humans were all crying and begging for mercy, the youngest didn't even look older than thirteen.

"No! Please, no!" Paul begged sobbingly. "I'm sorry for what I did, but please don't hurt my family! Punish me, but leave them alone! Please, show mercy!"

"Please, let us go!" Paul's wife wept. "We've done nothing to you! In the name of mercy, at least let our son go!"

"I'll tell you what, what do you say we leave it to the gods?" Nethras produced a coin and showed both sides of it to Paul. "You see this coin? You see it?!"

"Yes!" Paul cried.

"Okay, we'll keep it simple: tails, you and your family will walk out of here. Everything you suffered today will just be a bad memory, and you can rest easy every night knowing that your Maker is looking after you." Nethras explained blithely. "But if its heads, I'm going to murder your whole fucking family for your trespasses against me. You ready to put your faith against mine?"

Nethras flipped the coin high in the air, Paul Messign prayed to the Maker and Andraste to save his family, to make the coin land on tails. Mother Giselle added to those prayers from their hiding spot from the ramparts. That single moment where that coin was falling back to the ground seemed like it dragged on forever, and when it finally landed to the ground the sound it made could be heard throughout the Great Hall. Nethras and Paul looked at the coin laying on the ground and found their gods' answer. Heads.

"NOOO!" Paul wailed. "Please, no!"

Nethras grabbed a torch and silently tossed it towards his prisoners. Cassandra and the others realized too late that the blankets those people wrapped in were soaked in oil. Paul's family lit up like torches within those blankets. The whole temple was filled with the sounds of their agonized screams and Paul's wailing as their bodies smoked and blackened. While Paul screamed and wept as he watched his family die, Nethras looked on with a look of vindicated smile on his face.

"NO!" Mother Giselle cried in horror. And revealed their location to every assassin in the temple.

Nethras looked up at the ramparts with anger in his eyes, and Cassandra knew he was looking right at her. As is too insult her and show his contempt, Nethras grabbed Paul by the hair and gently glided his razor sharp blade across the shemlen's forehead. Paul screamed in horrible agony to match the pain his family suffered as Nethras slowly peeled the skin of his scalp from his skull. Paul's screams ceased and the final breath of life in his body weakly escaped through his lips when he hit the ground, blood spurting from his skinned head and his naked skull lain bare for all to see.

Nethras clenched Paul's still bleeding scalp in his fist and pointed his weapon at Cassandra; warning her that they were all next.

~XoXoXo~

"Everyone, move!" Cassandra ordered. They all took off like their asses were on fire, while the Vir Banal'ras moved to chase after them.

Nethras looked up at the ramparts with anger in his eyes, and Cassandra knew he was looking right at her. He took his sickle and in one deft stroke, knocked the weeping Paul's head off his neck like a sheath of wheat.

"Everyone, move!" Cassandra ordered. They all took off like their asses were on fire, while the Vir Banal'ras moved to chase after them.

"MANA!" Nethras ordered, and every elf stopped in their tracks. "They are mine to deal with."

~XoXoXo~

Cassandra led the others through the empty, dark hall searching for the exit. They had to get out of here, or at least find a way to position themselves better against these assassins. The light was so dim it was disorienting. How could anyone see anything in this darkness?

"Here! Come over this way!" Sera shouted as she ran around a corner.

"How did you see that way?" Blackwall asked as he tried to maintain his footing.

"Elven eyes can see better in the dark." Solas answered.

The two elves led them down the black passasge, all of them trying to maintain their footing in the dark. Maybe they could lead them out. But instead all they ran into was a big, fat dead end.

"Shit!" Sera, Varric and Iron Bull cursed in unison.

There was something glowing on the wall. Some sort of rune inscribed in ancient elven.

"I can't read this rune." Dorian admitted. "Solas, can you make sense of this gibberish?"

Solas squinted his eyes in the dark and looked at the rune most curiously. "Strange? It says…."

"Watch your step." Nethras' voice finished in the dark. They all heard what sounded like gears grinding and moving loudly in the shadows. And before they realized what was happening, the floor opened beneath their feet and they all fell down into the darkness below.

Cassandra and the other all landed with a resounding, collective thud. But thankfully, none of them landed so hard that they broke anything. They were all just really pissed off now.

"What the shit was that!" Sera screamed.

"It's called a trapdoor, you twit! You led us straight into a trap, and got my Poigntue Original Gown ruined!" Vivienne yelled as she desperately tried to beat the dirt and dust of her skirt.

"Mother Giselle, are you alright?" Cassandra asked as she helped the priestess to her feet.

"A few bruises, but nothing I can't handle, Seeker." Giselle answered softly.

"Where the fuck are we?!" Iron Bull spat.

They looked around and found themselves in some kind of vast underground chasm. There were torches lit along the walls and the floor was intricately tiled. Was this some kind of storage place, or another place of worship?

"Great. More Caves." Varric complained.

"Look. Over there. You see that?" Blackwall pointed to the far end of the chasm, and they saw a bright light yawing in the darkness. "That must be the way out."

"Welcome to the Gauntlet." Spoke Nethras' voice once more. The whole chasm seemed to groan and rumble. Like something was moving within the ground.

"I don't like this place." Cole whispered.

Suddenly large stone barriers sprung from the floor like weeds in between Giselle and Cassandra. Then between Briala and Dorian. Soon whole walls erupted between all of them and completely cut them off from one another. And then more walls sprang from the ground and turned the whole chasm into a labyrinth.

"Grrr! Like hopping from the frying pan, into the fire and then the grave!" Cassandra growled. "Everyone, try to make your way towards the exit, and try to meet up with each other. We will all rendezvous at the exit!"

Nethras looked down at Rajmael's companions. All of them powerful, skilled individuals. Some of the best minds and warriors in all of Thedas. And now they were scurrying around in his little maze like rats. He wasn't going to break his promise to his adopted brother, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to have a little fun with these people. Now…who to take down first?

~XoXoXo~

Mother Giselle calmly walked the maze. She remembered which way the exit was and tried to quietly make her way there. With the Maker's grace, she could make it to the others. She came across a dead end. How unfortunate. The path split in two, she decided to go right. Mother Giselle made several more turns and on more, but this time she didn't come across another dead end. She found the elven leader waiting for her, Nethras.

Nethras was leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed. He knew there was no threat from this pious old biddy. "You're not going to make much of a fight of this, are you, priestess?"

"I do not need to fight, messere. The Maker is my protection." Mother Giselle answered serenely.

"Yeah? Too bad you couldn't lend some of that protection to Paul and his family." Nethras laughed.

"That wasn't the Makers doing, but yours. You chose to murder that poor man and his family." Mother Giselle said in an unusually angry tone.

"That 'poor man' helped kill many members of my clan, and led to the death of my beloved Evanura." Nethras shot back. "Who was going to give my family justice?"

"What he did to your family was terrible, but that doesn't give you the right to do evil in turn." Giselle stood. "All you will do is perpetuate more evil, and whatever righteousness you believe in will be stained."

"Is that so? Well, then you're either a hypocrite or a liar. Because all the Chantry has ever done is kill in the Maker's name, and perpetuate hatred and fear towards my people." Nethras said hatefully. Those words shocked Mother Giselle, they were the same exact words Rajmael said to her when they first met. "My god demands action, and so far, you're god has done nothing to stop me because He's a coward. Or, maybe, it's because my god is more real than the god of some dead shemlen woman who let her die at the hands of her enemies." Nethras' eyes were glowing with power and hatred of the likes Mother Giselle didn't know existed. "Now, are we going to stand here and have a theological debate, are you going to come along quietly?"

Mother Giselle wasn't going to fight back, what could she do against him? He was willing to take her without force, and she would continue to try and walk with Andraste's grace. All she could do was pray that the Maker would watch over the rest of her companions, and that He would show Nethras mercy.

~XoXoXo~

"Shit! Fuck! Ass! Crap! Friggin' bag of donkey pricks!" Sera cursed as she frantically ran through the maze trying to find her way out it. Every turn led to another and then it led to a fucking wall. How was she going to get of this shit hole?

"Hey, would you mind taking a little easy there, Buttercup?" Varric pleaded trying to keep up with her. "I hate dank, dark places more than you, but we don't know which way we're going."

"So far you've been running in the exact opposite direction of the exit, you idiots." A voice answered.

"Who said that!?" Varric yelled. He looked down Bianca's sights looking for someone to shoot, but it was too damned dark.

Then the two of them Nethras' voice laughing, mocking them from the shadows.

"Who's there!? Come out where I can shoot you, and we'll see whose laughin'!" Sera threatend.

"Aww. Poor, little Sera. The elf who isn't an elf. The adopted pet of a noblewoman." Nethras laughed mockingly. "And Varric Tethras, a pitiable dwarf who always ends up in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong people. What a laughable pair of losers you are."

"Right, says the guy who only complains about everything he's lost." Sera said trying to be offensive and hide her own fear. "Since when does elfy shit do anyone any good? All it does it get people killed."

"Ha! Just like how you got your people killed in Verchiel, Sera?" Nethras taunted. "And how about you, Varric? Every time you tried to help Hawke with anything, all you ever did was bring him more danger."

That took them both back a step.

"How'd you know 'bout that?" Varric asked.

"You're not the only ones with contacts in the most helpful of places." Nethras mocked. "You know, Sera, you're no different than the human nobles you're like to steal from so much."

Sera stopped running and angrily looked around the dark to find the guy who said that. "What'd you just fuckin' say!?"

"You're no different than all the other shemlen nobles who shit all over everyone, seth'lin!"

"Bullshit! I ain't nothin' like them!" Sera denied.

"Just like them, you hate anyone who's of a different class than you. You rob and murder and steal, and use your own agenda as an excuse to justify your actions." Nethras ridiculed. "You're prejudice, racist, and you always spit on the elves who are suffering simply because they're elves, and you're not. You and that bitch Vivienne are opposite sides of the same coin!"

That was the last straw. Sera knocked an arrow into her bow and pointed in all directions of the darkness. "Come out and say that to my face, elf-shitter!"

"Easy, Sera. He's trying to get in your head." Varric tried to tell her. But it didn't look like she was listening.

Nethras materialized from the shadows like smoke from a fire. "I'll make you a little deal, Sera. You manage to tag me with one of those arrows of yours, and I'll tell you exactly where the exit is. But if you can't, I'll smash you like a cheap vase."

"Sera…he's trying to play you." Varric warned.

"Nya-ha-ha!" Sera snickered. "Funny! I'd woulda shot you for free!"

Sera aimed her arrow right at Nethras' smug smile, but instead of flying through his teeth and out the back of his head, the stupid elf caught it in his hand. Nethras' smile grew wider and threw the arrow to the side like it was nothing.

"What the fuck!" Sera cursed.

"Well, shit." Was all Varric could say as he cocked Bianca back and tried to help Sera shoot the guy.

The surface dwarf and city elf kept firing their arrows, one after another in rapid succession. Nethras simultaneously slapped each one right out of the air like he was swatting flies, and kept walking closer and closer.

This wasn't looking good for them. Varric was running out of arrows and Nethras was getting closer. He fired an explosive mine at Nethras, but somehow the elf kicked the mine right in midair and up towards the roof. The mine went off like a firecracker, doing no damage whatsoever. Now Varric's was arsenal was completely spent.

Sera came down to her last arrow, and Nethras was standing three feet in front of her with a mocking grin on his face, going from ear to ear.

"You've only got one more shot. You'd better make it count." Nethras taunted and pointed the arrow to his own forehead.

"AAARGH! Fuck you!" Sera screamed and let the arrow loose from her bow.

In that split instant, Sera had never been more shocked in her life than she had been now, even when she saw that frickin' Archdemon level Haven. Nethras caught the arrow in his left hand...before it ever even left Sera's bow.

Nethras broke the shaft of the arrow in his grip like a dried out twig, and grinned at Sera. "My turn, bitch."

Sera tried to go for the knife in held in her waist, but the last thing she saw was the blur that was supposed to be the assassin's fist go straight into her face, and felt what must have been a smith's hammer land right into her face. And that same blur whipped around and kicked Varric in the chin. And just like that, both their worlds just went completely blank.

~XoXoXo~

Dorian ran alongside Cole moving as fast as his legs could carry him. Sweet Maker, he'd never run so fast in his whole life. But when there's homicidal cultist elven assassins after you, you tend to try and push your limits for the sake of your own survival. The two of them took a moment to catch their breath and survey the surroundings. Cole started touching the walls like he was trying to feel them up and then placed his ear against it.

"What…What are you doing, Cole?" Dorian asked breathlessly.

"I'm wondering if the walls can tell us the way out." Cole answered.

"The wall…telling us the way out?"

Cole looked at Dorian quizzically. "Well, people say walls have ears, maybe they have mouths too."

"Oh, Cole. You're a candle in a dark place." Dorian chuckled.

"I'm not a candle. People can see candles."

"You're both more like a couple of dim torches from where I'm standing." Said a voice in the dark.

Dorian charged his magic through the Torch of Toth while Cole stood ready with his daggers. A Tevinter mage and a spirit of compassion that can out stage an Antivan Crow, and this time they knew what they were in for. This might be an even fight.

Nethras' voice echoed around them, shouting at them in the elven language. How odd. Dorian expected insults or death threats, but it sounded like Nethras was reciting something. A prayer perhaps?

"Mana elgara! Ar sa mala revas! Ar in'ara ne asan!"

Cole's daggers dropped from his hands and he became stiff and rigid with a look of pained shock on his face. "W-what's happening? No! Th-this is just like before…with Seeker Lambert." Cole tried to move, but it was like his body wouldn't listen to him.

Dorian had no idead what was happening to his comrade. He tried to activate some kind of counter spell, but then one of those damned chains sprung out of nowhere and ripped his staff from his hands. Again. Nethras appeared from the shadows and tossed Dorian's staff to the ground.

"What did you do to Cole!?" Dorian demanded.

"Oh, just an ancient elvhen incantation for holding spirits when they wondered where they're not welcome." Nethras answered sneeringly. "Dorian of House Pavus. The Scion of a proud Tevinter lineage. You have no idea how long I've dreamed of killing Tevinter scum like you."

"As much as enjoy helping others make their dreams come true, I am afraid I am going to have to decline on indulging your little life goal." Dorian answered sarcastically.

"Ha! You say that like you've got a choice in the matter!" Nethras mocked. "You've no idea how much I'll enjoy this."

Dorian charged his magic through his hands and made fire erupt in his palms. "I won't go down so easy this time!"

"Sure you will! The only difference is you're going to see it coming, and there won't be a damned thing you can do about it." Nethras promised.

Dorian threw one ball of flame at Nethras and thought the burning projectile hit the damned elf, but it only struck Nethras' afterimage. He moved with such incredible speed that before Dorian could launch his other attack, Nethras had grabbed his wrist with such force it smote the flame in his palm. Dorian thought only Rajmael could move that fast.

"Arrgh!" Dorian cried in pain when Nethras punched him so hard he was sent flying back into a wall.

"I guess dreams do come true!" Nethras smiled deviously, his eyes glowing in the dark. He dashed over to Dorian and planted a spinning back kick with enough force to bruise a dragon right into the side of his head. Now both the Tevinter mage and the Spirit of Compassion were out like a pair of dim laterns.

~XoXoXo~

Solas and Vivienne walked in contemptuous silence as they tried to make their way out. The two mages tried to navigate their way through this maze, trying to use their magic to maybe conjure a way out or guide them to the others, but these walls somehow negated such attempts. While Solas would have been content to just keep walking silence, Vivienne always had to have a say in anything.

"Solas, dear, perhaps you can clarify something for me. What is it that makes this Nethras think he can just take back what his people lost?" Vivienne inquired with her signature superior tone.

"You think that because I'm an elf that I can give you some kind of insight to his mind, Enchanter?" Solas replied distastefully. "Don't be naïve. He's as much a stranger to me as he is to you. The only thing I can guess about his character is that he is one of the many who is tired of seeing his people living in squalor and suffering. And now these elves are looking to him to lead them in a fight against their oppressors."

"A fight they couldn't possibly win." Vivienne concluded. "Even with their supposed god's blessing, these people couldn't possibly take back what was taken from them. The world will still be against them."

"Spoken like a truly self-righteous bitch!" Nethras' voice boomed out of nowhere.

Solas and Vivienne held their staves and charged their magic. Neither of them would be caught off guard this time.

"Being a whore has worked out in your favor hasn't it, Imperial Enchanter?" Nethras' voice echoed. "Spreading your legs for favors, and playing the Game with the nobility while your fellow mages have to live like prisoners. And now you seek to whore yourself out to the Inquisition in exchange for more power in these uncertain times. Tell me Vivienne, do you really think my brother can't see through you? He's got you figured out, and you're in for quite the rude awakening, I can tell you that."

"I know that you're trying to do what you think is best for our people…." Solas tried reasoning. "But this path you and your followers are on can only lead to destruction…."

"And what have you ever done for our people that gives you the right to lecture me, old man." Nethras argued. "You spent half your life in dreamland witnessing distorted versions of history, and have attained nothing. Despite all your accomplishments, neither of you has done anything meaningful with your gifts, or your lives."

Vivienne sniffed her nose at the darkness surrounding her. "Presumptuous, pretentious, and a murdering terrorist. No wonder your wretched daughter is a potential abomination in the woods."

Everything in the maze suddenly became deathly still. The two mages could feel the anger permeating the air.

"Never. Speak. Of my…DAUGHTER!"

Once again those hellish chains flew from the shadows like metallic serpents, so fast Vivienne barely noticed them in the dimly lit hall. They grabbed her by the ankles and dragged her screaming into the darkness. It all happened so fast that Solas could do nothing. He threw several magical attacks at the shadow, but this darkness was so unnatural it had to be magic, even his eyes couldn't see in it. And all he could hear was the powerful sonorous echoes of Vivienne's body being smashed by angry fists, accompanied by the sounds of her cries of pain. For the first time since Solas met, he actually felt sorry for Vivienne.

Seconds later, Vivienne's bruised and body was sent flying back out of the shadows. Solas could still feel the magic coming from her. She was still alive, but probably beaten worse than she'd ever been in her whole life.

"I've got no quarrel with you, somniari. But if you try to fuck with me, I will show you what a real nightmare looks like." The angry assassin threatened, emerging from the darkness. "Cooperate with me, and I'll ensure your safety until Rajmael upholds his end of the bargain."

"What's to stop you from killing me and my comrades should we cooperate with you?" Solas inquired calmly.

"There's nothing here that can stop me. I just simply choose not to. The only reason why I don't simply kill the bitch at your feet is because I promised my brother I wouldn't. And your cooperation is the only way you're gonna leave this temple alive and whole." Nethras promised.

"Very well. Lead the way." Solas accepted.

"Just like that?" Nethras asked disbelievingly.

"Fighting you serves no purpose. You've already bested my comrades once, I doubt we could best you in your place of power." Solas explained. "Besides, I'm curious as to what you actually have planned."

Nethras raised his left hand and pointed it, the walls in the direction he pointed collapsed like port-cullis doors. Solas got the idea, and began trekking in that direction. Unfortunately, he had to carry the unconscious Vivienne with him.

~XoXoXo~

Briala calmly tried to navigate this Maker-forsaken labyrinth. She had to get out of here. Had to let Celene know, and try to contain this before any more harm was brought to the elves Orlais. Nethras' need to for vengeance could destroy everything she's tried to accomplish for their people.

"Ahhh. Marquis Briala. Spymaster, handmaiden and bedwarmer to Empress Celene I Valmont of the Orlesian Empire." Spoke the voice that could only belong to Nethras. He clapped for her mockingly. "The brilliant leader who led the elves in a shadow war against our Orlesian oppressors, made our people a force to be recognized. And then you…betrayed us!"

Briala stood her ground and tried to listen where that voice was coming from. Maybe she could end this here. Had to keep him talking. "I did not betray our people! Everything I did was to give our people a voice, a place in this empire!"

"You want us to stay subservient to human overlords who've defiled our people, who will never honor such an arrangement, and all the while you get to return to your Empress' loving arms while we still live in like paupers in a land where we should be kings! We wanted the Dales back, not go back to being servants to Orlais!"

Strange. Those were almost the same exact words Rajmael used when they first met. "If you know so much, then you must know it was the Inquisitor, your brother, who gave me this position. Do you doubt him, too?"

"Rajmael follows the Path of Dirthamen. A weak and ineffective path that has held our people back, and brought us nothing but disappointment." Nethras explained angrily.

"And you think you know what is best for our people?" Briala questioned incredulously. "If anything, you will only set the world against us! It was why I never planned to have Celene assassinated. Too many of our people would die just to satisfy their want for blood, just like what happened when they rebelled in Halamshiral.

"Unlike you, with you frilly dresses, your bath scented skin and fancy bardic training, I know what it's like to be hungry, to starve, and to wake up every morning wondering if this is going to be the day I die. And like the rest of us, who live in the real world, I know what it's like to have everything I cherish destroyed by the humans. I will give them the justice that you, and your precious Orlais, denies them."

"And how many people will have to die for your justice?" Briala demanded.

"In any war, there are always casualties. In war, there are only victors and victims. And our people have been victims for far too long." Nethras growled from right behind her.

Briala spun around to plant her stiletto into his jugular. Nethras caught her wrist and knocked the blade out of her hand, then grabbed her by the neck and slammed her against the wall. The angry elf lifted the marquis off the ground by her neck and smashed her against the wall three more times, knocking her senseless, then started applying more pressure around her throat. The last thing Briala saw before blacking out was Nethras' eyes burning with anger.

~XoXoXo~

Cassandra managed to find Blackwall and Iron Bull. Hopefully the others were faring as well as they were. So far they had encountered nothing. No traps, no death machines, not even an ambush. This just seemed far too easy to Cassandra.

"Well, well. Look what we've got here." Nethras mocked from nowhere. "A burnt out qunari reject, a Warden who missed out on a whole Blight, and a washed out Seeker who the Chantry discarded. Rajmael's three stooges."

All three warriors stood back to back with their weapons ready. They would not be easy prey a second time.

Cassandra focuses her mind, she had to remain calm. "I…I've met your daughter, Nethras. We all have. She's an enchanting child."

"I...I know. She's...everything that made my wife shine." Nethras responded invisibly. but his sadness audible. "Being away from her is like having a knife dig into my heart."

"Can't be that heartbroken. You abandoned her to lead this death-cult." Blackwall scorned.

"When a father leaves his family to fight in a war, that isn't abandonment. That's a sacrifice." Nethras justified.

"You really think your kid would want you going around killing people instead of hanging out with her?" Iron Bull asked judgmentally.

"What the fuck would you know about having children, Qunari? I'm doing this for my daughter!" Nethras answered angrily. "So that she doesn't have to know what it's like to be hunted down like an animal and treated like vermin just because she had the honor of being born an elf!"

"You think that justifies what you did to that man and his family? What he did to you and your clan was horrible, it was evil, but it doesn't justify what you do." Cassandra condemned. "What gives you the right to commit murder, to destroy whole families?!"

"You did!" Nethras screamed furiously. "The Chantry gave me that right when they murdered my wife and tried to steal my baby!"

"Those soldiers and nobles your men killed. Was that all for your daughter as well, or were you simply killing in the name of your god?" Blackwall asked.

"All gods demand sacrifice." Nethras laughed.

"And you think these blood sacrifices you've done in the name of your god will help your people? It will only turn the whole world against all elves again." Cassandra reasoned.

"Yeah what she said!" Iron Bull added.

"And how many people have you murdered in the name of your god, Seeker?" Nethras sneered from the darkness. "Every time you raised your sword and killed a man and cried out 'Maker take you', you weren't sacrificing someone to Him? The Exalted Marches, killing mages who don't pass their Harrowing, slaying people for not accepting the Maker. What was all that if not a sacrifice of blood for your god? You and your wretched Chantry has more blood on its hands than I ever will. Everything I learned about killing in the name of a god, you bastards taught me!"

That actually struck a blow in Cassandra's heart.

"N-no. No that isn't true!" She tried to deny, but after learning the truth behind the Seekers, she wasn't sure if she meant it.

"Oh, but it is true, don't you dare try to deny it!" Nethras shouted viciously. "You served an institution that brutalizes anyone who doesn't obey it's hypocrisy. Even now, after everything you've seen the Chantry do wrong, you still defend it. You protect and serve evil, therefore...YOU ARE EVIL!"

Iron Bull finally had enough. He growled furiously and stomped his foot to the ground challengingly. "Grrr! I'd like to see how big you are when you're not hiding in the shadows like a wussy!"

At that moment, Nethras emerged from the shadows before them, his eyes burning in the darkness. He cracked his neck and his knuckles arrogantly and held two bora'nan sickles in each hand. "The better question is, do you assholes think you can take on Rajmael? Because if you can't…then you don't have a prayer against me."

"You arrogant little prick!" Iron Bull screamed as he charged the elven assassin. The massive qunari swung his axe that smiling elf, Nethras easily dodged every devastating swing. Iron Bull raised his axe drove it downward to split his opponent in half, but Nethras caught the shaft of the axe with both sickles. Iron Bull brought all his weight bearing down on the smaller elf, trying to force him to his knees. Nethras looked up at his giant opponent, and winked at him.

Nethras shifted to the side and sent all of Iron Bull's weight driving forward. As the qunari's momentum sent him forward, he planted his foot down hard to regain his control and spun back around with a powerful swing at his elven opponent. The instant Bull turned back around, Nethras was in his center with his hands on Iron Bull's weapon. The elf shifted the qunari's center of balance, with his ranged negated. Before Iron Bull had a chance to know what was happening, all three hundred pounds of him was sent flying forward and onto his back with a resounding thud.

I thought only Rajmael could pull off that move, was all that went through Iron Bull's mind. Then Nethras planted his foot right on Bull's head with the force of a sledgehammer being swung by a giant.

At the sight of their companions defeat the Warden and the Seeker attacked the Vir Banal'ras simultaneously. Cassandra slashed with Avenger while Blackwall struck with Thunderstrike, Nethras easily caught and parried each blow. They needed to change their tactics. Blackwall charged Nethras' front while Cassandra took his flank. Nethras jumped out from between them and looped his chain around Blackwall's neck and landed behind the Warden. With his chain around Blackwalls neck, Nethras kicked one of his legs out and forced the Warden to his knee and began choking the life out of him. But before he could strangle Blackwall to death, Nethras decided to slam his head into the wall, and knocked him out like wet candle.

"It's just you and me now, Seeker." Nethras taunted. He threw the spear end of his chain at Cassandra's head, she blocked it with her shield, the spear pierced right through her shield's face. Nethras yanked back the chain and ripped Cassandra's shield right off her arm. The angry Seeker leapt after her shield and lunged her sword at Nethras' face, Nethras dodged his face to the side. Cassandra threw a series of powerful and precise strikes, aiming to stab and cut Nethras down, but he blocked, parried and dodged each move with extraordinary grace and speed. For a moment Cassandra thought she was fighting Rajmael.

Nethras finally caught Cassandra's sword between both his sickles and locked their blades in a stalemate. But Cassandra still had one free hand. She reared back her fist and planted it into Nethras' grinning face with all her might. Nethras snapped his head back with his grin even wider.

"You hit like a girl!" Nethras laughed. He applied so much pressure down on Cassandra's sword, he twisted it out of her hands. Before Cassandra could make another defense, Nethras attacked with several, powerful and incredibly fast spin kicks and knocked her against the wall. Her defeat obvious, Nethras placed one of his blades up against her neck.

"It's time you Chantry servants learned your…place?" Nethras' eyes were distracted by that thing hanging from Cassandra's neck. A silver chain hold an amber amulet with a heart shaped sylvanwood leaf set inside it.

"No!" Cassardra yelled, but he pressed his blade harder agains her neck.

Nethras yanked it off Cassandra's neck and looked at it with betrayal in his eyes. "I see. Now it all makes…perfect sense." He said bitterly.

Nethras removed his blade from Cassandra's neck and socked her in the diaphragm, effectively stunning her. Nethras had his followers collect the prisoners, and he took a moment to look at this amulet. He had almost forgotten about it. He and his wife Evanura gave it to Rajmael the day they asked him to be godfather to their child. It was a sign of all their love for one another. And then Rajmael gave it to a shemlen. And not just any shem, but a devoted servant to the Chantry. How? How could his own brother turn his back on them like this?

Later at the Entrance to the Temple….

Rajmael found his way back at the frozen ass crack of the Frostbacks where this temple stood. Obviously the ancient elves who built this place weren't fond of visitors. He had them, the Shards of Sulevin. It wasn't easy, and the demons were difficult to vanquish, but he had them, and he still had Evanura strapped to his back. Now he could finally find out what Nethras was planning, and what he wanted with the Sulevin shards to begin with.

As he walked the path up to the temple he could feel the eyes of every elf in the training yard glaring at him. He didn't give a shit. He was Dirth'ena Enasalin, and they were Vir Banal'ras. They were beneath his skill.

A black-haired elven man and several of his comrades met Rajmael at the top of the stairs. Rajmael could see they were looking for a fight.

"And where do you think you're going, seth'lin?" The assassin asked.

Rajmael's eye twitched angrily at that slur. "Tell Nethras I have completed my boon, and I demand that he upholds the bargain."

"You think you have the right to make demands here, Inquisitor?" the assassin sneered. "Do you honestly think that we'll listen to the words of a traitor?"

"No one…calls me a traitor to my face." Rajmael's sword flashed out of its sheath, then quickly returned all in one split second. Hardly anyone say the blade even move.

"Was that supposed to scare me?!" The elf laughed. But his laughter was short lived when his body opened up like a closet door, and his innards began spilling out. In that brief instant, Rajmael split the impudent elf from crotch to crown. His eviscerated corpse fell down the stairs and his vital organs spilled out every time he hit the steps.

"Now, unless you want to join your friend at the bottom of those stairs, get me Nethras! Now!" Rajmael demanded.

His point made, the assassins escorted Rajmael to the great hall, where his companions were waiting for him. Rajmael was glad to see they were unharmed.

"Inquisitor! Oh, thank the Maker you're alright." Cassandra sighed.

"Is everyone alright?" Rajmael asked.

"You would not believe what's been going one here, Boss." Iron Bull informed uncharacteristically unsettled, and nursing a newly acquired bump on his head.

"Why? What's been happening since I left?" Rajmael asked deeply concerned.

"Your friggin' brother's crazier than a drunk dragon!" Sera screeched.

"I'm with Sera on this one." Varric agreed nervously.

"Excuse me?" Rajmael never knew his brother to be crazy. Angry perhaps, but never crazy.

"Nethras…he…murdered an entire family in this hall we're standing in." Blackwall answered.

"What?!" Rajmael asked. He could never believe his own brother capable of such a thing.

"It's true. He wiped out an entire family line." Dorian spoke. "The youngest couldn't have been more than thirteen."

Rajmael wasn't sure he could believe this. "Who…who were they?"

"It was…it was the village leader who traded you those diseased blankets." Cassandra answered. "Nethras killed him and his whole family."

"He…what?" Rajmael's companions told him how Nethras brutally killed Paul Messign and his family. Rajmael wasn't sure how he should feel. But he did feel a sense of…vindication deep inside him.

At that moment Nethras entered the room, and this time everyone saw him coming. "Rajmael. I knew you'd be able to get the Shards. That the first elf to ever lay hands on them in over eight hundred years should be a follower of Dirthamen and an Arcane Warrior seems so…appropriate. Evanura would be proud."

"Would she be proud that you burned an entire family like they were strips of meat over a fire, Nethras?" Rajmael asked critically.

"I wouldn't know. Seeing as how that fat bastard helped kill Evanura, it's a little difficult for me to know what she'd say or do." Nethras responded.

"You think she'd call it justice?"

"That shem took all the halla horns we gathered and tried to kill us with disease! Then he and his family made a small fortune off those horns. Where was the justice in that!?" Nethras argued viciously.

"Where was the justice in killing Paul's family?" Solas asked. "Did they deserve to die for his crime?"

"Did my family deserve to die for his crime?" Nethras countered heatedly. "You think that if someone is denied justice for so long, they're just going to sit by and do nothing?!"

"There are laws that we all must adhere to." Cassandra reminded. "Laws that even Paul would have had to answer to."

Nethras took Cassandra's words as an insult. "Laws?! Laws that allow elves to be treated like dogs, that give Chevaliers the right rape women, and the Chantry to abuse the mages under their care without compunction?!" Nethras raved. "You're laws are what allowed Paul to get away with what he did!"

"Enough of this!" Rajmael shouted with full authority. "I got you the broken fucking sword. Now tell me what you're doing!" Rajmael tossed the case he was carrying with the shards inside.

Nethras examined the case's contents with a look of ecstatic triumph in his eyes. "Little Brother…you've no idea how much you've accomplished for our people. A deal is a deal, and you've more than proved yourself. Walk with me."

Nethras led them into a massive chamber adjacent to the Great Hall. In the center of the room was a large stone slab that bore the images and totems of the Creators. The wall was painted with the same kind of murals found in the prayer room they saw before. It depicted the same warriors that had been blessed by Elgar'nan, but this time it depicted them drinking from some kind of fountain. And after drinking from the fountain these warriors ran wildly into the ranks of their enemies with their chained sickles, and then burst into flames and engulfed their enemies with terrible fire. And in the very back of the chamber was a fountain flowing with the clearest water Rajmael had ever seen. Was that the same fountain depicted in the mural?

"What is this place, Brother?" Rajmael finally asked.

"The ancients had immense power, Little Brother. Power like none in this Age could even imagine. The kind of power Chantry tries to steal for itself." Nethras answered cryptically. "The warriors that served Elgar'nan possessed a rage that made dwarven berserkers look like simpering little girls. It gave them devastating strength, unequaled speed, and heightened senses."

"And it also gave them a destructive end." Rajmael pointed to the mural where the warriors burst into flames.

"Halam'shivanas, Brother. The sweet sacrifice of duty, the ultimate honor for any warrior. I would think that one who follows the Dirth'ena Enasalin would understand that better than most." Nethras reminded. "And as a prominent side benefit, it is extremely poisonous to anyone who isn't an elf."

"This is was how that elf who attacked the Chevalier encampment was able to destroy so many men in his death." Briala concluded.

"I see now." Dorian acknowleged. "Like the Reavers who use dragon's blood to grant them strength from pain, your Vir Banal'ras draw a new strength from this water you believe to be a blessing from your god."

"Correct." Nethras confirmed.

"I have seen the ancient memories of when these warriors fought in battle." Solas informed. "These warriors caused such a devastation it struck fear into the hearts of the ancient empire. It is why this power was so rarely used, and ultimately forgotten."

"Yes." Nethras confirmed once more.

"Great. More stupid, creepy elfy shit." Sera groaned.

"Brother, I will continue to honor my agreement to not harm your companions here, but if your pet thief speaks again, I'll cut her up just like I did General Maliphant." Nethras promised.

"You heard him, Sera. And I won't stop him either." Rajmael promised. He was also getting really tired of Sera's disrespectful attitude.

Sera gave the Inquisitor a dirty look, but kept her lips sealed.

"What does any of this have to do with the Sulevin?" Rajmael inquired. "It's useless!"

"Not quite." Nethras answered. He laid out the Shards of Sulevin on the slab and arranged the broken pieces together like a puzzle. The shattered sword laid there in the true form of its ruined glory. "Amongst my discoveries here, I found a most…advantageous ritual. Useless in some instances, but extremely beneficial in others."

Nethras pulled out a knife and cut his hand with it, without making a sound. He dripped his blood over the shattered pieces of the sword, chanting in an ancient elven tongue that Rajmael could not interpret. The shards and the slab radiated with a blinding white light, Rajmael, and all the mages present, and even Cassandra could feel the magic smoldering before them. Nethras chanting became quieter, and the bright light became dimmer and soon both ceased altogether. When it was over Rajmael was in complete awe at the sight before him. The Sulevin Blade rested on the white stone slab completely restored to all of its true glory. The blade glimmered like a clear lake with inscription of the sword's name in elves burned like blue candle light. The edge of the sword of the sword was so sharp that as Nethras picked it up, they could hear the sound of it cutting the air. Even the once ruined gems that were set in the sword's hilt, handle and base of the blade were alive with light.

Rajmael couldn't believe his own eyes. Nethras had restored one of the most prized elven artifacts in their history. He now held one of the most powerful weapons in all of Thedas. But what did he need with such a powerful weapon?

"You have restored the Sulevin to its glory. Now what do you intend to do with it?"

"Now, I shall do the same for our people, Little Brother." Nethras answered.

That was not the answer Rajmael was expecting. "What do you mean by that?"

"Do you honestly think I was just attacking a few Chevaliers and some noble families simply because I bear them a grudge?" Nethras chuckled. "You know I don't think so small, Brother. Those noble families I ordered to be killed all had friends and relatives who valued them, and enemies who hated them. Both will soon start fighting against each other again in the name of blood feuds and vendettas, and so soon after a civil war. And the Chevaliers? Well, the Orlesian army just lost its most prominent military mind, thanks to you, Rajmael. Without Gaspard leading them, the Orlesian army will fracture and break when the fighting resumes. Orlais will tear itself apart so that the nobles can play the blame game and murder each other. They'll be too busy to see the Vir Banal'ras moving in the shadows, and killing what little of their forces remain, until all that's left is a crippled ruin ready to topple on itself like a deck of cards. And it will all start here!" Nethras pointed to a temple painted on the mural. "At Nehn'numinas. The Place of Joyful Tears, where all the waters of the world flow. And soon it will flow with Elgar'nan's blessing."

An appalling look came over Rajmael. "You...you would taint those holy waters? With this?! Do you have any idea the devastation such a foolish act could wreak!?"

"No less than the devastation the shemlen have brought down on our people!" Nethras countered. "These holy waters can finally serve their purpose and carry out the will of Elgar'nan! The All-Father's will must be carried out!"

"And at what cost?" Solas spoke out ardently. "You would risk upseting the very balance of nature to fulfill your goal? It is this sort of thinking that brings ruin and destruction. Not magic or armies, but ignorance and arrogance combined with a destructive lack of care of consequences."

What were these elves talking about? Did Rajmael and Solas know something they did not? Sera and Vivienne certainly didn't seem to care.

"You cannot possibly think such a plan will work." Vivienne scoffed.

"I know it will, because it already is!" Nethras lauded. "Isn't that right Marquis Briala? The nobles are already gearing to fight one another to avenge their murdered kin, or defend their pathetic honor."

"You would cause all this death and destruction…for what?" Rajmael asked. "What do you hope to gain with so much blood?"

"The Dales, Rajmael!" Nethras said as though the answer should have been obvious. "With Orlais so weak, we can finally gather our people and take back what they stole from us. We can finally fight back, and this time, we'll win! And when we win, we'll have the one thing our people have dreamed of for thousands of years: a kingdom of our own. It will be just like we dreamed about when we were boys."

"You…you're serious…aren't you, Nethras." Rajmael asked disbelievingly.

"Think about it, Rajmael." Nethras begged. "Evanura's dream, our people's dream, can finally be realized. Eva can grow up, even have children of her own on land that's hers, forever. Where she can worship the Creators, and rediscover our lineage without fear of persecution or human ignorance. She can live a better life than either of us have." The sincerity and emotion in Nethras was so profound there were almost tears in his eyes.

All this time Rajmael thought all his brother wanted was to kill more humans for what they did. Now he realized all he wanted was to do what he thought was best for their people. It was something every Dalish elf wanted, and in his heart he was still Dalish. But in his heart he also knew that a path as dark as the Vir Banal'ras could only bring more death than life. That was its very nature.

"And what of those who don't follow this path you're taking? The City Elves and the humans who refuse to surrender?"

A harsh scowl swept over Nethras' face at the mention of them. "It's very simple. The humans who don't surrender back what rightfully belongs to us can suffer the same fate our ancestors suffered, when we burn down every Chantry that defiles this land. And the flat-ears, like them…" he pointed over to Briala and Sera. "…they can die with shemlen masters."

"I…I can't let you do that, Nethras." Rajmael stated sternly.

"I thought you might say that, Brother. That's why I brought something t remind you of why we're fighting." Nethras snapped his fingers. "Bring her!"

Two elves dragged in a hooded woman. She was whimpering and crying for mercy in such a manner Rajmael really pitied her. Who was she?

Nethras excused his two henchmen and knelt in front of the hooded woman. "Do you remember the words I told you to say?"

"What? Y-yes." The woman whimpered.

"Say them."

"Bur…him." The woman whispered. What did she say? It was barely audible.

"Louder."

"Burn…him." Wait. What did she say? Why did it sound so…familiar?

"Louder!" Nethas ordered.

"Burn him! Burn him! BURN HIM!" The hooded woman sobbed at the top of her lungs.

Rajmael knew that voice. No. No, it couldn't be! He rushed over to the woman and tore the hood from her head and got a good look at her face. It was the face that belonged to his nightmare. She was older now, but it was still her.

"It's you!" Rajmael seethed with angry tears in his eyes.

"You. You're the Herald of Andraste, aren't you?" The woman asked hopefully. "Please, Your Worship! Help me."

"You…don't remember me?" Ramael asked offendedly. In a fit of rage he tore the robe off his torso and revealed the horrid burn scars that canvased his whole body. "Do you remember me now, you sick, evil, murdering bitch!? You're the one who burned me alive!"

Suddenly everyone realized what Rajmael was so angry about. This was the woman who murdered Rajmael's parents and condemned him to the stake. Nethras was giving him the vengeance that was denied him.

"Inquisitor…don't!" Mother Giselle tried to call. But Nethras stood between them and their leader shaking his head at them. They all looked over to their leader in dread, while Nethras looked on with amusement in his eyes.

"Let's not spoil this little reunion." Nethras smiled sinisterly.

"You dragged my family out of our home and you ordered the templars to…cut off parents' heads, for worshiping the Creators! And then you strapped me to the steak and burned me!" Rajmael remembered vividly.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I was merely…!" Rajmael slapped the simpering old woman across the face, making her cry out in pain.

"Say my name! My parents' names! Say it like you did when you murdered them!" Rajmael demanded furiously. Rajmael's slaps against the former Revered Mother's face sounded like tree branches snapping. "SAY…MY…NAME!"

"I…I can't."

Rajmael slapped and slapped the murderous Chantry Mother repeatedly, with angry, vicious force with every word. "Can't or won't!? Me, my father, my mother! You sentenced us to die, now I want to hear you say our names!"

"I DON"T REMEMBER!" The woman sobbed.

"Yonwyn! Rajmael Yonwyn! That was my name before you stole my life! My father was Dairren, my mother was Renalle! You murdered them!" Rajmael screamed furiously.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You were just elves to me." The woman wept.

This…this was the woman who haunted his dreams, gave him nightmares? This pathetic, weeping shem was the one who murdered his parents? All these years Rajmael thought it was a woman of staunch evil, fanatical in her devotion against elvenkind. But no. She was just another coward. But she was still the one who ordered the deaths of his parents. Unconsciously fueled by rage and grief, Rajmael drew his sword and raised it over the simpering Chantry priest.

"No! Rajmael don't do it!" Cassandra begged.

"Do it! Kill her!" Nethras urged. "She was willing to kill you!"

"Her crime was grave, but you don't have to be like her!" Cassandra urged.

"She already murdered your parents, and she would have killed you if my father didn't rescue you!" Nethras reminded intensely. "Justice must be served, Rajmael! Kill her. Kill her. KILL HER!"

"This isn't the way. It is not your way Rajmael!" Cassandra pleaded desperately. "This is not the way of Dirthamen!"

Rajmael screamed in agony and rage, then brought sword down to bare on his family's killer. The chamber became silent. There was not a sound to be made, and everyone stood in shock. Rajmael's blade stopped mere hairs away from the priestess' face.

"Kill a pathetic nothing like you in the name of my parents? No. You are not worthy of such an honor. It would only serve to degrade their memory." Rajmael said bitterly. "Unlike you, and the sick freaks like you, I am not a murderer."

"I…am so sor…shckt!" Before she could finish saying anything, Nethras' sickle flew across her neck and knocked her head off. The severed head rolled before Nethras, and he crushed it beneath his foot like a pumpkin.

"I'm…disappointed, Rajmael. I thought, perhaps, you of all people would have the strength of character to do what was right. But I see I was wrong." Nethras scowled.

"This…is not my way, Nethras. It is not the Path of Dirthamen."

"The Path of Dirthamem!? You priests and your holier-than-thou ways is what has held us back for all these centuries! But is it truly the Path of Dirthamen holding you back…or is it this?" Nethras held out the amber amulet he took from Cassandra, Rajmael looked at his brother in anger. "This speaks volumes of your loyalty, Brother. Both to me and to our people. Tell me, do you honestly think this shemlen bitch is an adequate replacement for Evanura? Because if you do, you're fucking mistaken."

Rajmael shot Nethras an angry look for calling Cassandra a bitch. "No one can ever replace Evanura for either of us, Nethras. What I feel for her is between us and no one else."

Nethras laughed with bitter sarcasm.

"Right. The charming elf from the woods woos the wayward Nevarran princess with his exotic charm. Then the two of you face down the world, and live happily ever fucking after. Right? Don't make me laugh, Rajmael!" Nethras scorned. "You honestly think she, a Seeker, could ever accept a pagan elf and a mage, like you for what you truly are?!"

"This has nothing to do with Cassandra, Evanura or anything else for that matter, Nethras. What you're doing could unravel everything I'm trying to do for this world. You could inadvertently bring about our destruction!" Rajmael tried to reason with Nethras. His adopted brother's plans would serve Corypheus' goals more than their peoples.

"Oh, I do understand, Rajmael." Nethras seethed with betrayal. "You are the Inquisitor, and the Herald of Andraste. You must remain loyal to the weak-willed faithful masses. Whereas I'm just another elf trying to fight for my people. And our paths conflict with one another."

Rajmael scowled bitterly at Nethras for calling him the Herald. "I'm afraid they do, Brother."

The two elven warriors stared each other down, their sword hands itching. In flash like lightning, Nethras grabbed the Sulevin Blade off the altar and struck at Rajmael with the legendary sword. The attack came at Rajmael so fast he was barely able to block it. There was so much force behind Nethras' attack it sent Rajmael flying through the door and back into the Great Hall, like he'd been backhanded by high dragon.

Rajmael staggered back to his feet, disoriented and seeing double. If he hadn't had the Enasalin to block that attack the sheer power of the Sulevin would have probably killed him. In all his years of studying elven magic, he never would have imagined that such a weapon could be so powerful.

Nethras' followers and Rajmael's companions gathered around to watch these two leaders fight.

"Rajmael!" Cassandra called as she and the others ran towards him.

"Stop!" Rajmael ordered. "This is my fight."

Rajmael stood firm and both of them assumed the sword stances. Rajmael held Enasalin in his center, while Nethras held Sulevin in a high guard. Rajmael activated his Shimmering Shield, while Nethras' eyes burned with the power of Elgar'nan's blessing. With his enhanced speed and strength, Nethras brought Sulevin down to bear with all his might. Rajmael blocked the attack, but the sheer force of Sulevin forced Rajmael to his knees, and Nethras kept pressing down. Rajmael force pushed his brother off him and launched several bolts of lightning from Enasalin's blade.

Nethras dodged each bolt of lightning, each one only striking his afterimage. Rajmael swung his sword with an intricate flourish and threw a wave white hot veilfire at Nethras, aiming to cut him vertically in half. Nethras met the wave of veilfire with the edge of the Sulevin, and broke the attack in twain. So far, Nethras hadn't been using the Sulevin's full power, Rajmael needed to end this quickly.

The two elven leaders exchanged an acknowledging glance, and assumed one more stance. Nethras took a low guard with the sword tailing behind him. This stance was known as Fen'harel's Tail, a deceptive and devastating stance if used correctly. Rajmael bent his legs low, as though he was coiled to strike, and held his sword horizontally towards his opponent, like he was holding a lance. This stance was known as Andruil's Spear, a technique meant to kill any and all opposition before you in a powerful lunge.

Their eyes did not break from one another. And time became still as they waited for the final moment. The two swordsman broke off and dashed at each other with their respective strikes. Nethras with Sulevin, and Rajmael with Enaslin. It all happened so fast, that neither of their followers knew who won.

Nethras' sword faltered from his grip, his face twisted with pain. "Dareth shiral…my brother."

Rajmael's sword dropped from his hand, ad wave of crimson erupted from his chest. He fell to his knees as though he were in prayer, but no prayers escaped his lips. Just the sound of his dying breath escaping his lips. And the last thing he heard was Cassandra's horrified voice.

"NOO-OO! RAJMAEL!"

Language Codex:

Sulevin: Elven, translates as "Certainty" or "Purpose"

Quenethera ne: Elven question, translates as "Who are you?"

Garas Quenethera: Elven question, translate as "Why have you come?"

Emma Rajmael Yonwyn Lavellan: Elven, translates as "I am Rajmael Yonwyn Lavellan."

Dirth'ena Enasalin: Elven, translates as "Knowledge That Leads to Victory."

Vir Banal'ras: Elven, translates as "The Path of Shadow."

Mana elgara! Ar sa mala revas! Ar in'ara ne asan!: Elven, roughly translate as "Stop Spirit! I take away your freedom! I bind you here to this place!"

Seth'lin: Elven slur, translates as "Thin Blood."

Halam'shivanas: Elven, translates as "The Sweet Sacrifice of Duty."

Nehn'numinas: Elven, roughly translates as "The Place of Joyful Tears"

Dareth Shiral: Elven farewell, translates as "Safe Journey."

Ma vhenan: Elven endearment, translates as "My heart" or "My love".

Mien'harel: Elven, a term for rebellion amongst city elves, roughly translates as "Short blade."