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.

34. The Place Where Gods Walked

The Place Where Gods Walked

Rajmael and all who followed him pushed through the final barrier, and saw the pathway into the temple. Rajmael's breath was almost stolen away by the magnificent sight of the Temple of Mythal. A glorious testament to all that the elves were, all that they could be again.

It was nothing like the Bastion of Elgar'nan that Nethras had discovered; carved into a mountain, bleak and foreboding in its grim ambience. No, the Temple of Mythal was not merely built atop of an expansive lake, but was erected within it. A great citadel of primeval glory pointed like a lance pointed straight toward the heavens. The lake circled around the whole of the ancient marvel, turning into waterfalls on all sides. It was as though the lake had tried to swallow the temple within it's emerald depths, but the power of Mythal refused to be consumed, and was instead hidden but the unforgiving beauty and secrecy of the Arbor Wilds.

Rajmael's awe was quickly shattered by the sounds of battle and death just up ahead. They ran to the end of the entry way, the path totally littered with the bodies of dead Templars. The Inquisitor and the others crouched down behind a railway and tried to see what was going on just below them. They looked down to see more of the strange elves holding their ground at the front of a bridge way against a large number of Red Templars and Grey Wardens. A hooded mage stood strong between two giant dragon statues while archers held their positions.

Samson stood amongst his underlings, an arrogant smile on his face as he stared down the temple's guardians.

"Na milana sel Vilnalas!" One of the guardians growled at the vile knight.

"Ha! They still think to fight us, Master." Samson chuckled vilely.

Corypheus emerged from out of the darkness, his very presence exuding a vile miasma as he strode towards the elves who dared stand in his path. Sweet Sylaise, Rajmael almost forgotten how tall and hideous he actually was.

"They are but remnants, shadows of a failed race from a forgotten time." Corypheus spoke, his voice echoed with malice. "They will not keep us from the Well of Sorrows."

"The Well of Sorrows?" Rajmael whispered looking to Morrigan. The witch gave him an unknowing shrug.

Corypheus moved towards the elven mage with murder in his stride. The guardian held his ground. The two dragon statues that guarded the bridge came to life as ancient glyphs lit up on their stone bodies. Rajmael could feel the powerful destructive energy emanating from the statues and realized that they were some sort of ancient trap meant to deal with intruders. Corypheus merely smiled at the elves' attempt to bar his entry.

"Be honored, vermin. You witness death at the hands of a new god." Corypheus boasted threateningly.

The taint-ridden madman stepped closer to the bridge, the instant he crossed the threshold, lightning and burning white fire shot from the eyes of the dragon statues that guarded the path. Despite the immense power of the attack, Corypheus kept walking through the streams of magic as though he had merely been caught in the rain, and grabbed the elven mage by the head. The mage screamed horrifically in Corypheus' claws. The beams of energy from dragons' eyes intensified. Corypheus stood silently as his face melted from his skull, the dragons were using so much energy that they finally exploded, taking the strange elves with him. Fire, stone, flesh and magic flew everywhere.

A crater of black smoke and shattered stone with lingering stench of burnt flesh was left behind. All that was left of Corypheus was a ruined, smoking corpse with blackened bones surrounded by a puddle of melted flesh, with several Grey Warden laying next to him. Despite the loss of their leader, Samsom lead his whole company of Red Templars across the bridge and into the temple.

"Ha! Guess Coryph-anus wasn't so bad after all." Sera laughed.

"Damn. I was hoping we could be the ones to kill that asshole." Iron Bull complained.

"Don't celebrate just yet, guys. This isn't the first time I've seen Corypheus die." Varric warned.

Rajmael and his companions carefully made their way down to the bridge. Rajmael was left confused. Why? Why would Corypheus walk into such an obvious trap that could kill him? Why would Samson and his men keep pressing forward if they just witnessed the death of their leader? Was Corypheus truly capable of commanding such loyalty?

The Inquisitor looked to the other side of the bridge and saw Samson getting the last of his men inside the temple. The leader of the Red Templars looked back to his nemesis and flashed the Inquisitor an arrogant grin that made that thing in the back of Rajmael's mind scream for murder. What the fuck was Samson smiling at?

A stomch-churning groan erupted from the mouth of one of the Grey Wardens. How did he survive? He began retching horribly, vomiting out a vile black ichor. What was wrong with him? Everyone looked on in horror as the man's body began to reshape itself into a form they believed impossible. Corypheus was taking over the man's body like an Abomination from the Fade.

"It cannot be!" Morrigan tried to deny, but if only saying it would make it true.

"Across the bridge! Now!" Rajmael ordered. They all ran as fast as their legs could carry them as Corypheus stood in his new body, completely reborn. His burning red eyes watched hatefully as the Herald made his way to the temple. An all too familiar roar split the air and shadow darkened the canopy as Corypheus corrupted dragon flew over head. Rajmael could feel the gale from its wings baring down on them. They ran through the doors, and closed just before the beast's fire came down on them, Rajmael felt the heat of it on his skin.

~XoXoXo~

The door magically sealed itself and barred the dragon and its master from entering. The beast roared in fiery anger and defeat on the other side. This should at least slow Corypheys down enough and give them the time they needed to find...whatever it was the Corpheus is truly after. They ran from the entrance and didn't stop until they were sure they were far enough from that damned dragon, and then they took a moment to gather their surroundings and catch their breath.

"Ah, at last. Mythal's sanctum. Let us proceed before Corypheus interferes." Morrigan bade.

"You said he was here for an eluvian, Morrigan, but Corypheus mentioned a 'Well of Sorrows'." Cassandra reminded, very agitated. "Which is it?"

"I am...uncertain of what he meant." Morrigan shrugged. For once, it seemed she didn't have an answer for everything.

"Unsure? You mean you have no idea what Corypheus is after. For all we know there is no eluvian here at all!" Rajmael criticized.

"Fine! I admit it, I was wrong. Does that please you?" Morrigan conceded with equal agitation.

"No, it doesn't fucking please me, you moron! Maybe you didn't hear what Cullen said back in the War Room, but there is no room for failure or mistakes in this campaign!"

Vivienne smiled to herself at the sight of the apostate being berated for her obvious lack of knowledge. She always knew this witch was more trouble than she was worth.

"And do you think being angry right now is the best course of action? You of all people know that there are no certainties, especially where Corpheus and ancient powers are concerned." Morrigan reminded. "Whatever this Well of Sorrows is, Corypheus wants it, and thus you must keep it from his grasp."

Rajmael grunted in anger, but proceeded to move on. "So be it. Let's find this Well of Sorrows before Corypheus and his people do."

"What I want to know is how Corypheus survived. We watched him die!" Cassandra shouted.

"It isn't the first time I've seen that guy killed, Seeker." Varric recalled. "I saw Hawke kill the bastard then had his body burned till there was nothing left but ashes. And he still came back to haunt us."

"It would seem his life force passes on to any Blighted creature, darkspawn or Grey Warden." Morrigan rationalized.

"Oh. So that's how he managed to survive Hawke and Bianca." Varric didn't know too much about magic or darkspawn, but that made a whole lot of sense. "But knowing doesn't make me feel any better."

"That creature is even more sickening and vile than I realized." Blackwall said with disgust on his face. "Using Wardens as...as suits to wear then discard when there's a scratch in them. I'd rather take my own life than let that happen."

"'Tis strange. Archdemons possess a similar ability, yet Grey Wardens are able to successfully slay them." Morrigan continued. "But Corypheus they locked away. Perhaps they knew he could do this...but not how."

Dorian shook his head frustration. "The Magisterium has entire vaults with documents and studies about darkspawn. Studies that only the Archon and the Magisters are allowed to view. I wouldn't doubt if they knew something about Corypheus but hid it away for convenience's sake. The bastards."

Rajmael tried to wrap his mind around this new reality. Even if they got to this Well of Sorrows, how could they defeat an enemy incapable of dying? He had truly superseded the Old Gods of Tevinter. They could kill him again and again, but he would merely resurrect and further prove to his followers that he is in fact a god. All their victories so far have merely slowed him down. Corypheys could outlive all of them and remain a threat to all of Thedas. If Thedas was to be saved, they must find a way to kill an immortal before he became a god.

"Come. Let's have a look around. Perhaps we can find a clue as to where this Well of Sorrows is." Morrigan advised.

"Most of us are not scholars, Morrigan. What are we looking for?" Cassandra asked.

"Anything. Anything that might give us a clue." Rajmael answered. He took a moment to take in the beauty of this place. It was nothing like the ruins of the fallen Dalish Kingdom. Even as a ruin, invaded and assaulted, it was still beautiful. The Arbor Wilds was slowly creeping into this place with its ivy and moss trying to blanket it with wilderness, but it did little to hide the majesty of this temple.

At the very entrance to the hall stood a magnificently carved statue of a strange woman carved entirely out of flawless white stone. They had seen many such statues in the Wilds on their way here, but this one was the most masterfully crafted. She had graceful feminine features, yet she had draconic wings in place of arms, opened wide to greet her visitors, and her head was in almost in the shape of a dragon yet retained the features of an ethereal elven woman. The depiction was alien yet beautiful.

"Wow. Whose this supposed to be?" Iron Bull asked rather impressed.

"Quite the feat of masonry." Dorian complimented.

"It is a depiction of Mythal, the protector." Solas answered solemnly.

Rajmael knelt before the statue of the mother goddess with respect and reverence. He grabbed one of the seeds in his coat and magically grew it into a beautiful blue rose that he only presented to his gods. Then he cut his hand and bestowed his own blood at Mythal's feet.

"Is now truly the time for that, Inquisitor?" Morrigan asked.

"This is Mythal's temple. Her last, and perhaps even her first one. Honor to the gods cannot be ignored." Rajmael answered, never taking his eyes from the statue. "What do you know of Mythal, Morrigan?"

"To the elves, she is the goddess of justice. Your people invoke her name when they seek recompense for a crime. But I am not so certain." Morrigan answered honestly. "What is a god but a being of immense power. The dread Old Gods were nothing more than dragons, after all. They rise as Archdemons, and they die. Perhaps Mythal was merely a powerful elf, a ruler amongst her kind. History is never candid with the facts."

"You admit to lack of knowledge, yet dismiss her so readily, Lady Morrigan?" Solas questioned skeptically.

"I do not dismiss her, I simply question her supposed divinity." Morrigan groaned. "Truth be told, I'm not sure Mythal was even a single person. The accounts are...varied. In most stories, Mythal rights wrongs while offering motherly kindness. 'Let fly your to Mythal, deliverer of justice, protector of sun and earth alike'."

"I am aware of her titles." Rajmael assured.

"Others paint her as dark, vengeful. Pray to Mythal and she would smite your enemies, leaving them in agony."

"More Dalish tales, I assume?" Solas asked rhetorically.

"If you have something to say, Solas, then say it now." Rajmael snorted in annoyance at Solas demeaning tone towards his people.

"The oldest accounts say that Mythal was both of these and neither. She was the Mother, protective and fierce." Solas answered staunchly. "And that is all I will say. This is not the place to dredge up old tales."

"Whatever the accounts, the tale ends the same. She was banished to the Beyond after she and her brethren were deceived by the Dread Wolf, Fen'heral." Morrigan finished.

"I am aware of my own people's tales, Morrigan."

"Then let us keep going. We may even find more concrete answers"

Rajmael could feel the sanctity of this place, the ancient powers that lingered here, and he could not help but be in awe and reverence of it. Here was everything that Rajmael had devoted his life to discovering. He could not help but be aware of a strange feeling. Like he could feel the lingering presence of some great power that resided here, watching him. This must be how humans feel when they walk the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux. After all this time, all these centuries since the fall of their empire, the elves had a sacred place of their own that was not defiled by human hands. Until today, that is.

"I know a Dalish girl who would give her right arm to be here right now. I wish Daisy could be here to see this." Varric sighed.

"You guys saw those elves, right? Never seen the likes of them anywhere." Iron Bull said with respect to those opponents they found in the forest.

"They're certainly new to me. But they seem...odd." Dorian added.

"All elfy-elves are weird to me, so I didn't notice." Sera disregarded callously.

"It seems that there are two possibilities concerning this temple's guardians." Morrigan affirmed. "One: these are a group of Dalish elves separated from the rest of your brethren. Cultist, fanatic in their desire to keep humans away from their home. Two: these elves are descended from the ancients, having resided here since before the fall of Arlathan."

Rajmael stopped dead in his tracks at that last sentence. A sense of desperate hope stirred deep within his spirit. "Could that be true? If there is proof, then their knowledge could rewrite history. My people could learn so much from them."

"'Tis thrilling, no? To discover an era long thought destroyed has possibly thrived in the shadows." Morrigan said with subtle excitement. "We may, however, find these ancient elves reluctant to want to share their long-kept secrets."

"I would advise caution. Some long-kept secrets carry dark truths that some may not wish discovered." The elven apostate warned as he looked on at this ancient temple of worship with respect and loss in his eyes.

~XoXoXo~

They came upon a ruined antechamber. The Arbor Wilds was already taking this place over. Giant roots were springing from the floor and walls, tearing up the ancient stone and structure of the chamber. But worst of all were the dead Templars and elves that littered the place. Turning this ancient hall into a tomb. That thing in the back of Rajmael's mind stirred at the sight of Templars once again bringing ruin and destroying all that he loved and held sacred.

"Ah. I see that the Red Templars have already encountered the temples guardians." Morrigan observed.

A nearby wall had been torn down and left as a smoldering pile of ruble, preventing them from using it as an exit.

"It looks like they couldn't find a way out, so they blew that wall apart then sealed it behind them with explosives." Cassandra pointed out. "We need to find another way out."

"Look at all these pants just waiting to be picked." Sera giggled with anticipation of a lecherous old man at the sight of all the dead bodies.

"Yes. Just pillage the dead. Not at all distasteful." The witch said with obvious distaste in her mouth.

"What? It's not they're gonna miss 'em." Sera reasoned, reaching for the body of a slain temple guardian. A bolt of lightning shot past Sera's nose before her sticky fingers could even touch the dead elf, making the Red Jenny leap back with a yelp.

"You try that again Sera, and the next bolt flies right up your nose!" Rajmael growled viciously, his smoking fingers pointed at her.

Sera took several steps back with a vexed look on her face. "Alright! Jeez! What's crawled up your arse?"

"You, Sera, dear. What else could it be." Vivienne answered haughtily. "Some of us here actually have civilized standards."

Cole looked at the elves with sadness beneath his hat. "This place is everything they knew, their whole world. All that is left of it. They won't let it be taken from them."

"They're fighting to protect their home. That demands respect." Iron Bull added.

"If you're all done over there, maybe you should come over here." Dorian called at the top of a nearby set of stairs before a massive door leading out of the room. The immense door was large enough to let a giant pass through it. Its surface was designed with mosaic tiles that depicted a dragon gazing down on the floor below. "It seems to have been magically sealed to keep intruders out, hence the Templars making a doorway of their own."

Rajmael noticed that the image of the dragon was staring at the middle of the chamber where a small set of steps led to large ruined altar. The altar was surrounded by giant intricately designed blue tiles and the two statues atop the stone pillars of the altar depicted a pair stone dragons, weathered and broken from the toll of years, staring at each other. This must have something to do with opening that door.

Morrigan noticed it, too. The Dalish elf and Chasind witch approached the altar, and the instant they stepped foot on the tiles, they came to life with a warm blue light and pleasant ringing melody.

"It seems the temples ancient magicks are still strong after all these centuries." Morrigan said, impressed. The two of them noticed a tablet on the altar written in a language very few had ever seen.

"This is elven. I can read the words, but not all of them." Some of the ancient glyphs were worn down to nothing after many centuries. It took all the years of late night studying and dedication as Keeper Deshana's First for Rajmael to read what was there. "Atish'all Vir Abelas'an. Enter the Path of The Well of Souls."

"Masterfully translated, Inquisitor." Solas complimented honestly.

"There is something else here about knowledge." Morrigan pointed to a set of worn out runes on the tablet. "Respectful, or pure. Shinven, shivennen...'Tis all I can make out. That is mentions the Well is a good omen."

Rajmael noticed ancient candles and offering bowls on the altar. "This place was the entryway into the temple. Perhaps this is where visitors and disciples would pay their respects to the All-Mother."

"Yes, that would make perfect sense." Morrigan agreed. "Supplicants to Mythal would have first paid obeisance here. Following their path may aid entry."

"Not much of a lock if all you have to do is step on it." Iron bull scoffed.

Morrigan rolled her eyes in annoyance. "'Tis a ritual, not a barred door. There is more here than just earthly treasure."

Rajmael's eyebrow quirked skeptically. "You would perform a ritual to honor an elven god, Morrigan? Somehow, I have my doubts."

"Don't look that far into the matter, Inquisitor." Morrigan discarded. "To the ancient elves, these rituals were as common and customary to them as a bow or a handshake is to you or I."

"I find the idea of you curtsying to anyone just as doubtful, too." Rajmael scoffed.

"Why the empress ever tolerated her is a mystery for the ages." Vivienne commented with veiled disgust in her voice.

The witch chuckled mockingly. "Ah, Madame Vivienne, it would seem those barbs on your tongue are growing more blunt by the minute. Does this place vex your small mind, or is it I?"

"You unnerve no more than a rat scurrying across the carpet. Making me think new accommodations are required. And an exterminator." Madame de Fer shot back.

"Oh! I almost felt that. Well done." Morrigan laughed before turning her attention back to the Inquisitor. "I can be cordial when I wish to be, as I demonstrated in Celene's court." Morrigan reminded. "It does no one any good to offend the one you seek favor from. Especially in ancient rituals that are built on such customs, like this one."

"Well, let's see if this curtsy gets us the response we're looking for." Rajmael stepped on the next tile and it too came to life with it light and song. Rajmael didn't know if it was the magic of the altar or his own, but he could feel something guiding his steps on to each tile until he came full circle around it. When he completed the steps, the two dragon statues' eyes and the whole altar lit up, and they heard the massive stone door creak open for them. The ancient ritual worked.

~XoXoXo~

All of them walked through the door and into the central chamber on the other side. The instant they entered, Rajmael's blood boiled like hot oil at the sight of the man standing on the upper floor of the chamber. Samson, accompanied by many of his followers.

The General of the Elder One's army blew a hole in the floor, a shortcut to the path he was seeking. He looked down at the Inquisitor with a taunting look of arrogance that made that thing in the back of Rajmael's mind scream for blood.

"Hold them off! The rest of us are pressing forward." Samson ordered.

The bastard general jumped down the hole he made, accompanied by most of his men, while the rest stayed behind to fight off their enemies. They weren't going to last very long, The Inquisitor was going to make sure of that.

Rajmael held both swords in his hands, his Shimmering Aura burning brightly, and that thing in the back of his mind demanded blood. He would oblige it. The archers shot a volley at the Inquisitor, he struck them all with both his swords and redirected them back to their owners, nailing them in all the vital areas. The Red Templar Knights, Horrors and Defenders all charged down at them, and Rajmael engaged them with all the anger he had for these sacrilegious invaders who spat on the legacy of his people.

Rajmael's magic increased his speed many times over, moving like a flash of white from one enemy to the next. The Templars could not touch the Arcane Warrior, their weapons slipped past him, through him, or didn't even get the chance to move at all. Evanura and Enasalin sang with a hymn of death as their wielder cleaved the Templars bodies, impaled their hearts and knocked off their heads. Samson's feeble attempt to slow the Inquisitor down was in vain. All he did was make them easier targets.

With the Red Templars here dead, and their bodies parts lying all over the place, Rajmael and his company ran to the path in the ground Samson made for himself.

"Hold a moment!" Morrigan bade, getting between them and the exit. "While Samson and his men rush ahead, this way leads to our true destination. We should take the petitioners path as before." Morrigan pointed to yet another sealed door with two dragon statues facing each other.

"Can you not hear the battle that rages outside this temple, Morrigan?!" Cassandra demanded in that angry way of her. "We must stop Samson now!"

"Our men are fighting for us right now. We do not have time for sight-seeing." Blackwall growled.

"And the longer we play around with these elven games, the more of our people die." Iron Bull grunted. "There's a hole right there. Jump in it!"

Sera nodded fervently. "Yeah. We've got people, real people, getting hurt. No time to be playing with this stupid elfy crap and their demon stuff."

Solas shook his head in disagreement. "In this case, I must agree with the witch. This place is ancient sacred ground, and deserves our respect."

"No! No more stupid elfy-demon-magic crap while people are dying. Let's go now!" Sera demanded.

"We don't know what we'll run into if we just bulrush into this temple haphazardly. Maybe it'd be better to play by this place's rules. Ancient magic like this isn't so easily defied." Dorian reasoned.

"Got to go with Sparkler on this one. Just running into something ancient and magical that we know nothing of has led to some bad mistakes in the past." Varric agreed.

"You see the urgency. We cannot find the Well unprepared." Morrigan urged lividly.

Rajmael glared at Morrigan with suspicion in his eyes. "You seem very, very eager to want to reach that Well, Morrigan."

"Is that not what we both want?" Morrigan balked back.

"I don't know! Is it?!"

Morrigan sighed in defeat and beckoned Rajmael to follow her. "There is...a danger to the natural order. Legends walked Thedas once. Things of might and wonder. Their passing has left us all the lesser. Corypheus wants to squander the power of the Well. I would see it restored."

"Really? It sounds to me like you want the power of the Well for yourself." Rajmael dejected.

"Ah, yes. 'Tis far easier to believe me the distrustful witch full of lies and greed." Morrigan said coyly.

Rajmael scoffed at the witch's sarcasm. "It wouldn't be that far of a stretch for you, now would it, Morrigan?"

Morrigan sighed and her face became sorrowful. "Mankind blunders through the world, crushing what it does not understand: elves, dragons, magic...the list is endless. We must turn the tide or be left with nothing more than the mundane. This I know to be true."

Rajmael almost laughed at the witch. "Right. And I suppose you expect me to believe that you want to preserve the wonder of the ancients because your altruistic and giving nature would have you share this knowledge with those it truly belongs to, and not horde it away like some bauble for you to keep for yourself."

"Have I not proven my worth thus far? Have I given you any reason to distrust me? You are a Dalish elf, you of all people should know and understand my goals." Morrigan argued angrily.

"Do you think I am fool?! That I don't know enough about you to distrust you? That I didn't know who you are the day we met, Dal'en tir Asha'bellanar!?" Rajmael demanded, his anger piqued.

Morrigan was taken aback in shock. "How...how do you know that name?"

"You truly do think me a fool. Every Dalish elf knows who you are! At the last gathering of the clans, Keeper Solan told every Keeper how she welcomed the daughter of Asha'bellanar into her camp in friendship. How the witch stole their most priceless piece of knowledge like a thief in the night, and didn't return it until it was of no further value to her. And you expect me to trust you with something you know nothing of?!"

"Yes! Because...because I read more in the first chamber than I let on." Morrigan revealed, trying to stay calm. "It is said that a great boon is given to anyone who uses the Well of Sorrows...but there is also a terrible price."

"You expect me to trust you when you withhold such vital information from me?" Rajmael could scarcely believe it.

"I wanted to gather more information to be absolutely sure. If I wanted to cheat you, I would have feigned ignorance this whole time." Morrigan assured. "My priority is your cause, but if the opportunity to save the Well arises, I am willing to pay the cost."

"And what, pray tell, is the price for this boon?"

"Like all ancient elven writing, it was insufferably vague." Morrigan answered. "The term I deciphered was 'Halam'shivanas'..."

"The sweet sacrifice of duty?"

"Yes. It implies the loss of something great and personal for duty's sake. Yet for those who served the temple, a worthwhile trade." Morrigan explained.

"Then you really have no fucking clue as to what you're getting yourself into Morrigan." Rajmael opposed. "You've already admitted how easily you discard Mythal, yet you're so willing to sacrifice something to her? How can you be so arrogant!?"

"What need do I have to be afraid of a sacrifice to a goddess that no longer walks this world, even if she did. And if the knowledge is here and I can protect it, what do I have to fear?" Morrigan questioned. "For all the evil that was, there was also great good. And I will fight for it, if I must."

"Do you truly believe yourself able to champion all that good in the ancient power? That you know how to discern the benevolent from the malign? Or are you just so hungry for a power you seek that you don't care what that power is capable of?" Solas berrated.

"What would you know of any of this, dreamer?" Morrigan argued. "Unlike you in your dreams, bringing nothing to anyone, I want to revive even a piece of what was lost. What could you possibly know?"

"I have seen enough to know that there were countless people like you, like Corypehus, who sought out ancient power for the mere benefit of having, and then using it for reasons they deemed necessary, and using the best of reasons to justify it. That is what I know." Solas spoke with truth and held back pain.

"And what about your son? What if this sacrifice takes you from him?" Being an adopted parent, that was Rajmael's greatest fear.

That question struck a nerve in Morrigan's cold façade. "Kieran...my son is...a strong lad. He will thrive, with or without me."

That answer rang in Rajmael's pointed ears like a bell. "You're so certain of that?"

"I am certain of precious little these days." Morrigan scoffed before turning her attention to back to Rajmael. "You must make your decision now, Inquisitor."

Rajmael didn't even need a moment to think. He knew what he needed to do. "I'll do what needs to be done, Morrigan, but not because it's what you think should be done. But because I'm honoring what I have devoted my life to." Rajmael turned to his companions, the look on his face told them how serious he was. "We perform the ritual. Whatever exists in this place, it must be honored if we are to be allowed safe passage to the Well."

"Then we should look around here and see if we can find anything that will tell us about the ritual or more about the Well." Solas recommended.

"Hey, Boss! Maybe you can find something over here." Iron Bull called from an adjacent room. While the others were waiting for the Boss to finish arguing with the hot witch, he decided to see what was nearby.

The nearby room was a lavish chamber lit with fir and perfumed with incense. Unlike the rest of the temple, this room looked perfectly preserved. All along the wall was another masterfully crafted statue of Mythal and all the other members of the elven pantheon made from varying precious stones and metals. All of them bore resemblance to the totems Rajmael made his prayers and offerings to. Rajmael wished so badly that he had time to make a proper offering to all his gods in an actual place of elven worship. Elgar'nan, Sylaise, June, Andruil, Falon'din, Ghilain'nan, and Dirthamen, Rajmael's patron god. Oddly enough, there was one of the Dread Wolf, Fen'heral standing midst the Creators, standing closest to the image of Mythal, sitting relaxed with watchful eyes.

"Why would this be here?" Morrigan questioned incredulously, looking at the statue.

"All the other Creators are present, why shouldn't he be?" Rajmael asked rhetorically.

"But this is the Dread Wolf! In elven legends, he seals the gods away in the Beyond, locking them from the world forever which caused the fall of the elven empire."

"And thus he became our god of misfortune, yes, I am aware." Rajmael agreed. "But this temple was built during the reign of the ancient empire. Perhaps he had a different meaning back then?"

"The setting of Fen'heral in Mythal's greatest sanctum is as blasphemous as painting Andraste naked in a Chantry." The Chasind Wilder continued.

"For all your supposed 'knowledge', Lady Morrigan, you can't help giving legend the weight of history." Solas reproved as if he were insulted. "The wise do not mistake one for the other."

"Pray tell, what does our elven 'expert' sense lurking behind this statue then?" Morrigan inquired agitatedly.

"None that can be found by simply staring at it!" Solas argued.

Rajmael took the time to make his offering to one of the statues. It depicted a hooded figure kneeling with two raven perched upon his shoulders and a bear at his feet.

"Who's that supposed to be, Inquisitor?" Varric inquired.

"Dirthamen, Keeper of Secrets and Knowledge. My patron god." Rajmael glided his hand over the vallaslin on his face. "And given all the secrets and knowledge we're discovering here, I'd say he deserves his tribute."

"Then that must be his twin-soul, Falon'din. Elven guide to the afterlife and keeper of funeral rites." Morrigan pointed to another statue depicting another hooded figure pointing with one hand and holding a shepherds crook in the other. At his feet was a statue of a large owl. I've heard it said that the Dalish will often speak his prayer on their deathbed or when they go on missions in which they do not expect to return."

"Yes. My Keeper taught us the prayers." Rajmael agreed.

"I highly doubt that the Keepers of any clan speak of Falon'din's vanity." Solas added with disdain.

"I suppose you have a story from some ancient dream, Solas."

"It was said that Falon'din's lust for adulation was so insatiable, he began wars to amass more worshippers. The blood of those who would not bend filled lakes as wide as oceans." Solas spoke truthfully and with contempt. "So Mythal rallied the gods, and led them to war when Falon'din's vanity began harming her people. It was almost too late. It wasn't until his own brethren bloodied him in his own temple did Falon'din finally cease."

Rajmael was stunned. He didn't want to believe that, but the way Solas told that tale compelled him to. "That...can't be right. Falon'din is supposed to be the guide of the elven dead, not the harbinger of death itself."

"As your clans spread apart, the more your tales branch out and grow." Solas responded dismally. "Never mistake them for 'true' arbiters of elven culture."

"And do not mistake us for some wide-eyed children you can just chastise and insult, Solas." Rajmael growled. "We try to preserve and teach what we rediscover. That there is so little left for us find after our empire and our kingdom was destroyed is no fault of ours."

"Sadly true..." Solas sighed. "Let us continue with our purpose here."

Rajmael noticed a mosaic on the roof of the chamber. It depicted elves in white robes receiving their vallaslin from priestly hooded figure. The petitioners then followed a certain path along the tiles around a giant statue of Mythal. They humbled themselves in the presence of the protector goddess and recited her prayers in the hopes of gaining the right to receive her blessing. Rajmael looked down at the floor below and saw the ancient path these faithful walked and the statue they presented themselves to. He knew what he needed to do and made his way down to the floor below.

"This is stupid." Sera antagonized. "Weird magic, elfy rituals, this all reeks of stupid! What about you Miss Devoted-her-whole-life-to-Chantry? You got no problem letting your boyfriend do something against everything that the Chantry says is shit?"

Cassandra sighed deeply. It was true that as a devout Andrastian, she wasn't comfortable being party to a ritual meant to appease elven gods. "I don't believe in these elven gods. But I do believe in Rajmael. He has led us only to victory, and I know he won't lead us astray."

Cole looked around at the ancient petition grounds with wonder, sensing all the centuries of feeling and emotion that lingered here. "They came here seeking justice, seeking her. And she spoke back, gave them guidance and protection. Gave them justice. And then...she was gone."

Cole's words were all the motivation he needed. There was no doubt in his mind now about the sanctity of this place. Rajmael stood in front of the path where the ancient elves would walk and pray as they petitioned for grace Mythal's presence. He placed Evanura and Enasalin gently on the ground before stripping off his Keeper robe and undoing his hair. Everyone could now see the many and horrific scars he had sustained and suffered over the years.

"Not that I don't enjoy the show, but what are you doing, Inquisitor?" Dorian inquired.

"Honoring Mythal." Humbled, unarmed, and all the scars he suffered laid bare before his comrades and his goddess, Rajmael wrapped a cloth around his eyes, blinding himself, then placed his hands together like in prayer and began the ritual. Rajmael would not rely on his sight, but on the magic he was born with, his training as an Arcane Warrior to guide his footsteps as he whispered a prayer to Mythal under his breath.

Everyone watched in silence as the tiles came to life with each step Inquisitor took each step and flawlessly performed the rite of petition. With the exception of Cassandra, it was hard for many of them to see Rajmael's scars again. Dorian, Cole and Morrigan had never seen his scars, and how they horribly marred his body. The old but obvious burn scars he received as a child blanketed almost his entire upper body, and the scar he received from Nethras' death blow was still fresh on his chest, plus the various other wounds and blemishes that he had sustained from a life time of hardship. He must still suffer wraith pains. How could he have endured so much pain?

Despite being having blinded himself, using his training as an Arcane Warrior, Rajmael walked the path of petition flawlessly. He felt the power of the path and found himself at the feet of Mythal's image. He removed the cloth from his eyes and looked up to her with respect. "Mythal enaste."

The path lit up and rang with a luminous ambience as the eyes of Mythal came to life. A beam of energy sprang forth from the goddess' gaze, enveloping Rajmael in a halo of blue magic and raising him from the ground. A wave of shock washed over everyone. What was this ritual doing to him?

Rajmael felt the magic of the temple saturate his whole being. Images of this ancient place flashed across his eyes as foreign images as familiar as memories. Elves entering the temple while its guardians watched with vigilance. Priests and warriors alike all receiving their vallaslin and declaring their loyalty to Mythal in a chorus of prayers and voices that shamed even the Grand Cathedral. A memory of bare-faced priests, all from different lifetimes, walking in solemnity towards the ultimate treasure in this place; the Well of Sorrow. Rajmael could almost touch it. Then he felt a powerful presence, like someone was watching him, and the whole temple bowed to her will..."

The magic died, and Rajmael dropped to the ground, gasping, not sure if anything he saw was real. The shock on his face was almost foreign to him.

Cassandra rushed over to her lover with fear grasping her heart. "Rajmael! What's wrong?!"

"Told you this ritual was a stupid idea." Sera criticized.

"You gonna live, Inquisitor?" Varric asked.

"I...I don't know. I saw...I don't know what I saw." Rajmael gasped, trying to get back on his feet. "It was like I could see the memories of this place, not as a ruin, but an actual temple. It was like I could almost feel Mythal walking these halls."

"You proved yourself worthy. This temple gave you a glimpse of all that came before you, and granted you entry." Solas explained calmly.

"But that's not all. I feel...different. Renewed, better. As if everything I suffered in the past twenty years was taken off of me. Like an ages old wound is finally cured." Rajmael tried to explain and make sense of it.

"Inquisitor, look!" Blackwall pointed to the elf, and everyone was shocked into utter silence.

Rajmael looked at himself, and his bewilderment far outstripping his comrades'. All the scars he possessed began to fade from his body, like water dissolving into mist. The burn scars he suffered as a boy, the sword wounds he endured while training, even the still fresh scar he received from Nethras began to evaporate from his body like water from stone. His body felt revitalized, and his magic stronger. He was completely healed.

"Sweet Andraste..." Cassandra gasped with awe. She tried to hide it, but it was obvious she was immedietly smitten by the sight of Rajmael's strong, now flawless skin. She tried to stay focused, but some rather racy thoughts began run through her mind as her eyes marveled him like gold.

"I...what was that?" Rajmael questioned in disbelief.

"The temple found you worthy of entrance and granted you a blessing." Solas answered with a hint of pride in his voice. He looked over and pointed to the now open doorway. "The way is now open, and you have the strength to keep going."

Rajmael picked up his gear, his spirit and strength renewed. "Then let's get going. I won't let this go to waste."

~XoXoXo~

They passed through the once sealed door and found themselves entering another antechamber, but it wasn't what they were expecting. The whole room was sealed off, no other passages or exits except the one they came through. Except for a tall balcony that stood high over the room, the place was completely vacant. What was the point of sealing this place.

Morrigan looked the room with confusion, her eyes scanning for anything. "'Tis strange. Why seal this place? What was this room used for?"

Rajmael's ears twitched and he sensed something. "This...was the reception area."

"How do you know?"

"...Because here's the welcoming committee."

A multitude of elven guardians materialized out of thin air throughout the whole chamber, completely surrounding the intruder. Rajmael and his comrades each had at least four arrows pointing at their heads.

"Venavis." A tall hooded elven figure ordered from the top of the balcony over the room. His armor and uniform was different from the others, a distinction of rank. He stood with authority and had a deathly intensity in his eyes, and like the rest of his ilk, he bore the mark of Mythal on his face. His intense eyes observed the Inquisitor with a strange curiosity. "You...are not like the others. You bare the features of those who call themselves elvhen. You wield the arms and training of the Dirth'ena Enasalin. And you bare the mark of magic that is...familiar."

Rajmael looked at the Anchor on his hand. Did these elves understand this kind of magic?

"How has this come to pass? What is your connection to those who have disturbed our slumber?"

The Inquisitor stepped forward and addressed the elven leader with respect. "They are my enemies, as well as yours."

"I am called Abelas. We are Sentinels, tasked with standing against those who would trespass against sacred ground." The elven leader waved his hand over his facial tattoos almost reverently. "We wake only to fight, to preserve this place. Our numbers diminish with each invasion. I know what you seek. Like all who have come before you, you wish to drink from the Vir'Abelesan."

"The place of the Way of Sorrows. He speaks of the Well!" Morrigan whispered.

"It is not for you. It is not for any of you." Abelas stated sternly, obviously hearing Morrigan's voice.

"Solas, perhaps he'll listen to you?" Rajmael pleaded.

"What shall I say, Inquisitor? Shall I persuade him from a millennia of servitude by virtue of our shared blood? He clings to all that is left of his world, because he lacks the power to restore it." There was a hint of sadness in the elven apostates voice.

"What is the Well? Why do you protect it so passionately?" Rajmael finally asked.

"It is a path. One walked only by those who have toiled in Mythal's favor. More than that, you need not know."

"He speaks of priests perhaps?" Morrigan suggested.

Right now, the Well was not the closest thing to Rajmael's thoughts. His mind was a torrent of questions. So many things he wanted to know from his people's predecessors. "Are you...are you truly elves from the time of Arlathan? Before the Tevinter Imperium destroyed the empire?"

"The shemlen never invaded Arlathan, they never possessed the strength." The ancient elf answered coldly. "We elvhen warred amongst ourselves. By the time the doors of this temple closed, our time was over."

"Wait, what? Are you saying there was no war against the elves?" Dorian stepped in, this went against everything he was taught to know, what everyone was taught to know.

"The 'war' of vultures feasting on a corpse." Abelas scoffed. "You shemlen wouldn't know true history. Your knowledge is as short as the pool of your years."

The elves were destroyed because they warred on each other? No, that couldn't be true. Yet, Rajmael knew Abelas was telling the truth. What was the point of lying about such a thing? And why shouldn't it be true? Rajmael himself killed other elves just trying to reach this place. His family was betrayed to the Chantry by other elves when they were condemned to die. Hell, he even killed the brother he loved to save the people he hates. Like the humans, the dwarves, the qunari, it was probably only natural for elves to wage war on one another.

"We are all that remains of Mythal's faithful. We awaken only when called, and each time we find the world more foreign than before. It is meaningless. We endure. The Vir'Abelasan must be preserved." Abelas asserted.

"If you know how much this world has changed, then you know that our people have lost everything. If you truly are all that remains of the ancients, then our people need you. We could learn so much from you!" Rajmael beseeched, begged.

"Our people? The ones we see in the forest? Shadows wearing vallaslin, marks that you know nothing of? You are not my people!" Abelas scoffed as though insulted.

"We wear the vallaslin to honor the gods, to honor our ancestors. Just as you do!" The Inquisitor argued.

"You wear the markings without knowing their true burden, their true purpose." Abelas denied. "It was bestowed only upon those who serve, by the ones that they served. Gods and elvhen alike. A mark to show which master they served."

Bestowed upon those that served? A mark to show who which master they served? In the deep recesses of Rajmael's soul, he felt something shatter, realizing what Abelas meant. It was like a piece of his heart was stolen, and all that was left was a void. Like when a child wakes up and learns the wonder of his youth was nothing more than a naïve lie, and all that was there was reality in all its terrible, ugly truth. The vallaslin, one of the most integral parts of Dalish identity that they wore as badge of pride...was a slave brand.

"You know nothing of what it means to be my people. And you have invaded our sanctuary as readily as the shemlen." Abelas accused.

Rajmael shook the revelation of the truth from his mind. He could not falter now. "We knew this place was sacred. We knew we didn't have the right to trespass here. Our people respected it as best as we could. And I came here to stop these invaders from defiling the memory of our people."

Abelas looked down at the Inquisitor, their elven eyes locking. "I believe you. Trespasser you are, but you have followed the rites of petition. You have shown respect to Mythal. If these others are enemies of yours, we will aid you in destroying them. When this is done, you shall be permitted to depart...and never return."

"This is our goal is it not? There is no reason to fight these Sentinels!" Solas pleaded.

"Piss on that!" Sera hissed. "We turn around, we get knives in the back. That's exactly the kind of thing these pricks will do!"

"I disagree." Cassandra voiced. "If they wish to ally, why should we turn them away?"

"They are merely performing their duty, holding their post. We shouldn't have to kill them for that." Blackwall urged.

"They're willing to help. We don't need to fight them if they want to help." Cole whispered.

"Consider carefully, Inquisitor." Morrigan cautioned. "You must stop Corypheus, yes, but you may also need the Well for your own."

The choice was easy. Despite what Abelas may think, they were both still elves, and Rajmael's loyalty was always to his people. "We accept your offer."

"You will be guided to those you seek." Abelas obliged solemnly. He turned his back and started walking back into the temple. "As for the Vir'Abelasan...it will not be despoiled, even if I must destroy it myself."

"NO!" Morrigan shouted in outraged horror. She took the form of a raven and flew after Abelas.

"Morrigan!...Bitch." Rajmael couldn't believe she would just take off like that. How could Aedan Cousland love such wild card? The other Sentinels disappeared in puffs of smoke to go battle the Red Templars. The western wall of the room parted open, and an elven woman carrying a staff and a giant book stood waiting for them.

"This must be our guide." Solas surmised.

"Mythal'enaste." The woman greeted grimly.

"That's good, since that vile apostate took off on her own. Foolish woman." Vivienne scorned.

"She seeks to protect the Well." Solas said worriedly.

"She turned into a bird." Cole whispered.

"Man, a woman turning into a bird is the closest thing I've seen to normal all day." Iron Bull groaned.

Dorian shook his head in disbelief. "Did you hear what he said? He said the elves destroyed each other. Before my countrymen invaded! This...it changes everything."

"In any event, we need to reach the Well before Morrigan or Samson does." said Cassandra.

"Penshra! Ghilas vellathan!" The Sentinel ordered.

"I think she would prefer it if we star close." Solas informed.

"Well, then maybe she should try using real words." Sera criticized. "Hey! You! Can you speak words? Wo-ords..."

"I hardly think you're one to judge anyone when it comes to the use of proper language, Little Sera." Vivienne mocked.

"Shut it, Vivvy!"

"All of you shut up! We need to focus." Rajmael ordered. He was trying his damndest to focus on the mission and not these truths he had learned. The fact that the elves destroyed themselves, the fact that the vallaslin was in truth a way to brand elven slaves. Solas was right about what he said earlier, some long forgotten secrets carried dark truths that some may not wish to know.

~XoXoXo~

The Sentinel guide led them through a secret passage of halls and chambers that looked as though they had been untouched for all these centuries. Mosaics of the Creators and statues Mythal flawlessly preserved along with mounds of treasure and ancient pieces of art were stored here. It was as if they stepped into a part of the temple that remained untouched by time.

Iron Bull's single eye marveled at the sight of the treasure that was just left laying here like a gift. The horned mercenary was almost drooling. "Do you guys have any idea how much this stuff is worth?"

"Bull?" Solas warned.

"I'm just saying!"

Sera made sure to keep her sticky fingers to herself. She knew the Inquisitor was watching her.

"The entire temple must have been like this once." Cassandra observed with mixed wonder and confusion. "How could the ancient elves put so much devotion into such...nonsense?"

"Because, Cassandra, our gods once walked these halls. And we gave them the respect they deserved." Rajmael answered in a voice so serious it almost made her believe him. Almost.

As they navigated through the maze of hallways and empty walls, Rajmael and the others heard the sounds of intense fighting as the Sentinels engaged the Red Templars. They watched through a hidden view as the ancient elves fought with all the strength to repel the invaders.

"The Sentinels, they're holding their own against the Red Templars." Rajmael observed.

"These guys give as good as they get. Maybe even better." Varric complimented.

"Tch. Good for something, I guess. If they keep it up." Sera scoffed with disrespect.

"Abelas gave us his word." Solas reminded disapprovingly.

Sera rolled her eyes with disgust. "Well, good for Dusty-Butt."

In that very instant, Rajmael felt that thing in the back of his mind screaming at him, made his sword hand twitch. It told him to take his sword and lop Sera's empty head right off her chicken neck. And Rajmael would have been a liar if he said he didn't want to listen. How dare she treat these people and this place with such disgust? Her attitude was so very human! But Rajmael abstained. He wouldn't kill her, not now anyway. He had to focus on the mission, make sure that these Sentinels' fighting wasn't in vain.

"Virma sumiel." Their guide called. They must be reaching the end. She stopped at another wall and tapped her staff on the ground, revealing another hidden passage. They could hear the sounds of battle at the end of the hall. This must be the right path.

"Ma serannas, lethallan." Rajmael thanked humbly.

"Dareth shiral." The Sentinel bade.

~XoXoXo~

They burst through the door and came upon the Sentinels battling their common enemy. Rajmael wasted no words, he just set to work helping his fellow elves in hacking the human invaders to pieces. Within a moment the severed limbs, blood, and shattered red lyrium of the Templars was scattered on the ground. The Sentinels formed a formation at the floor they were on, they would hold this line and give the Inquisitor the chance he needed to protect the Vir'Abelasan. No more of these vile humans would even see the Well.

Rajmael pushed through the final doors and beheld the coveted treasure that lay behind them. The Well stood high above the ground on a trunk of a mighty tree, without stairs or any other means of climbing to it, surrounded by waterfalls. Standing behind the Well was a giant statue of Mythal in all her ruined glory. A waterfall of tears cascaded from her eyes, much like the statue of her in Nehn'numinas. Their prize was just within their grasp.

"There it is. The Well of Sorrows." Rajmael smiled.

"Mythal endures." Solas sighed with awe.

"It is so cold. So loud." Cole whispered. "The voice want to be heard."

"Come to finally die, Lavellan?" Samson taunted from the floor beneath them, his men fighting the Sentinels. "Come on then! I'll bury you with the rest of the elven scum in this temple!"

Rajmael's eyes burned with seething hatred, and his knuckles turned white from gripping his swords at the sight of Samson profaning this holy place in his vile armor. "Let's end this."

The Inquisitor marched down the steps with murder in his stride, and every one of his companions felt his motivations. They had seen the crimes the Red Templars had committed under Samson's orders, the countless lived ended and destroyed because of him and the heinous loyalty he had to Corypheus. After today, the Red Templars would cease to exist.

Samson's men fought off the Sentinels. Samson was no slouch with that accursed sword of his. The one Knight-Commander Meredith wielded to bring Kirkwall to heel, giving her unnatural abilities, then ultimately driving her insane. It was thanks only to Samson's specially crafted armor did the sword not effect him the same way it did it's previous owner. But Rajmael wondered, how much of Samson's ability was thanks to his own skill and not his armor. Time to find out.

The Red Templars finally finished off what was left of the Sentinels who stood against them. Impaling them with red lyrium, immonlating them with fire, even drowning them in the temple's waters. The twisted smiles they had on their faces while they did it was enough to make a sane person sick.

Samson looked at his subordinates with pride, marveling at their heinous work. "Look at you, you tough bastards! A forced march, hours of fighting, and still as fierce as dragons. The Chantry didn't know what it was throwing away."

"Samson! Ser! Watch out!" A Templar Horror warned.

The general turned around to see the Inquisitor approaching, and he looked pissed. "Inquisitor...You and those elf-things just don't know when you're beaten! You've hunted us halfway across Thedas. I should've guessed you'd follow us into this hole."

"After everything you've done, all the lives you helped destroy, there isn't anywhere I wouldn't hunt you down." Rajmael growled, recounting all of Samson's crimes. "But if you throw down your sword and get on your knees, I'll consider accepting your surrender."

"What, to enjoy the same mercy you gave my brothers and sisters? No thanks?" Samson scoffed.

"You know, I was hoping you'd say that. And I'm not going to be a merciful to you as I was with all those brothers and sisters of yours that I only killed."

A hated glare gripped Samsons eyes. "And you're going to suffer for every one of them! Corypheus chose me twice. First as his General, now as the Vessel for the Well of Sorrows. You know what's inside the Well? Wisdom. The kind that can scour a world." Samson looked up towards the Well with hungry anticipation. "I won't forget any of the Well's knowledge. And when I present it to Corypheus, he will be able to walk into the Fade unhindered, without the aide of your precious Anchor. He'll finally be unstoppable."

"You'd gladly help him destroy the world? That's insane!" Rajmael cursed. "Once he has what he needs, he'll just cast you aside as the worthless thing that you are!"

"You dare say that to my face? After you butchered my men!?" Samson snapped hatefully. "I was chosen by Corypheus to help him take his rightful place as god, to help him reshape this world!"

"You're the one who led your men to their deaths, Samson. Made it necessary for me to kill them." Rajmael scorned. "You weren't chosen by Corypheus because he thought you were worthy. He chose you because you were pathetic enough to listen. Isn't that right, you lyrium-addicted gutter-trash?"

A furious scowl came over Samson's face at that insult. "You're no match for Corypheus, Lavellan. Even if you drink from the Well, you'll never master its wisdom the way he can." Samson drew his vile sword and his red lyrium crystal on his armor radiated with power. Rajmael could feel the intensity of it's loathsome aura as it increased Samson's strength to unnatural heights. "This is the strength the Chantry tried to bind. But it's a new world now. With a new god." Samson held Meredith's vile sword tightly in his grip and assumed a stance of competent warrior, ready to finally put his enemy into the grave. "So, Inquisitor, how will this go?"

"It's going to go my way." Rajmael smiled victoriously, grabbing the red lyrium rune his arcanist gave him. "From Dagna with love, you son of a bitch."

A beam of red energy erupted from the rune and shot Samson like a bolt of red lightning. Samson screamed and fell to his knees, the lyrium on his armor that gave him all his strength shattered to dust.

"What did you do? What did you do?!" Samson retched and gasped uncontrollably, his long forgotten withdrawals wracking his body. All the strength that carried him here was gone. "Lyrium...I NEED IT!"

Samson savagely attacked the Inquisitor, while his men went after the others. Rajmael evaded every wild swing of the red-lyrium blade, he could feel the intense toxicity of the blade as it barely missed him. But with Samson in a state of sudden withdrawal, without lyrium to give him the strength he needed, he was barely able to keep up with the Inquisitor. There was no discipline, strategy or thought behind Samson's attacks, only the basic instinct to kill the damned elf who robbed him his strength.

Rajmael could hardly believe it. This? This sorry, skilless wretch was the arbiter of all the pain and destruction that had been done in Corypheus' name? Without that fancy armor or red lyrium to fuel him, he was just a pathetic beggar who would lick a man's boot for lyrium. While his companions engaged Samson's subordinates, Rajmael would remind Samson of what he truly was.

"Come on, Samson, can't you do better than that? Come on, show me the strength of the Elder One's chosen! Show me why Corypheus chose a pathetic piece of shit like you to lead his armies!" Rajmael didn't even bother to activate his shimmering shield, it was so sad.

"Shut up! Everything I did was for my brothers and sisters! The people the Chantry threw away! The men and women you murdered!" Samson screamed.

"I'm sure the people of Sarhnia share your grief." Rajmael would make him feel the pain he inflicted on others. Without red lyrium to protect Samson and reinforce his strength, the enchantments of Evanura and Enasalin would cut through his armor like paper.

Samson came in with a wild swing, Rajmael evaded and punched him square in the nose, breaking it beneath his knuckles. "Is that it, Samson!? Come on! Show me how well you wield Meredith's sword!"

"ARRGH!" Samson roared furiously. He gathered all the strength he could muster, every ounce of will he had to try and kill the Inquisitor who stole everything from him. His master gave him reason to fight again. He gave him the ultimate weapon that Meredith was too weak to handle. And he trusted him with getting the knowledge from the Well. Too many of his brothers in arms have died for this, he could not fail now. He could not.

Samson attacks became more determined, tried to maintain technique, but he couldn't withstand the crippling effect of lyrium withdrawal after relying on it for so long. Rajmael sidestepped and dodged every feral swing, never giving the Samson even the hope of a chance. It was time to end this. Rajmael remembered every life Samson helped destroy all to serve Corypheus. All the loyal people in Haven, whose only crime was standing with the Inquisition. Lina, the little elven girl who was forced to mine red lyrium in Sarhnia, and he was forced to euthanize her because of the pain she was in. Junnarel, who was infected by red lyrium when the Red Templars tried to use it as a weapon against their clan.

"Pathetic, Samson. You should just stick to what you were good at: begging for money for lyrium, like the little nothing you are!" Rajmael activated his Shimmering Shield, phase-stepped right through Samson, and struck his enemy three times from behind, cutting his back open. Samson screamed in pain, his agony multiplied. "That was for Haven!"

Samson turned around to face the Inquisitor, but the instant he came face to face with him, Rajmael rained a continuous storm of cuts down on the Templar-General, turning his body into an open wound beneath his armor. "That was for Lina!" Unable to hold his sword anymore, Samson fell screaming to his knees. Rajmael kicked his enemy onto his back. He dropped his swords to the ground and grabbed Samson by his hair, forcing him to look him in the eyes.

"And this...this is for my father!" The memory of his once mighty father reduced to a shriveled husk thanks to the red lyrium poisoning fueled his every blow, breaking the bones of Samson's skull and breaking his knuckles on his face. Within moments, Samson's face was reduced to a smashed, lumpy ruin of broken bones and torn flesh. Rajmael finished Samson's face with one last punch with all his anger behind it. The sheer power of strike dislodged Samson's left eye from his skull and sent it flying through the air and splattered against a wall.

Rajmael breathed the fire out of his lungs and got off his enemy. He took a moment to take in the sight of Samson limp, broken body. Rajmael couldn't help but feel a depraved sense of satisfaction looking at the damage he inflicted on his enemy, and was half-tempted to spit in the man's now empty eye socket.

"The...Well...you bastard. You...can't take the Well from him. You...m-mustn't..." Samson begged through teary eyes and split lips before finally falling unconscious.

"He's still alive." Cassandra noticed, half impressed.

"Tough bastard. I'd be impressed if he didn't turn my stomach." Blackwall snorted.

"I can fix this easily." Iron Bull suggest, holding his axe over Samson's head.

"No, Bull." Rajmael ordered. "That lets him off easy. We'll take this...thing back to Skyhold for judgment. Now, let's get to that damned Well."

~XoXoXo~

Abelas made his way to the edge of the precipice, the Temple's magic recognized him and materialized a bridge of stone out of thin air for him as he ran towards the Well, followed closely behind by Morrigan still in her raven form. Rajmael and the others chased after them. They needed to stop whatever insanity was going on before it destroyed everything they came here for.

"Abelas!" Rajmael called out to the ancient elf, but the Sentinel ignored him.

Rajmael reached the top of the stairs at the threshold of the Well right behind Abelas. Morrigan landed right in front of the Sentinel, between him and the Well, ready to stop the ancient elf by enemy means necessary. Abelas looked at both the invading mages, a glint of defeat in his tired eyes. After all these centuries, he had finally failed.

"You heard his parting words, Inquisitor. The elf seeks to destroy the Well of Sorrows!" Morrigan reminded angrily.

"So the Sanctum is despoiled at last." Abelas lamented in defeat.

"You would destroy the Well yourself, given half the chance!" The witch accused.

"To keep it from your grasping fingers! You are no different than the rest of the shemlen who came before you." Abelas returned. "Better it be lost than bestowed upon the undeserving!"

"Fool! You'd let your people's legacy rot in the shadows!" Morrigan damned, ready to strike the elf down.

"Morrigan, back of right now." Rajmael finally ordered, enraged at the witch.

"You cannot honestly...!" Morrigan's arguing came to a halt in the split second that the Inquisitor's sword reached her neck.

"Do not make me say it again, Morrigan. I will not hesitate to kill you if I must." Rajmael warned furiously, the edge of his sword pressing dangerously against her flesh. "Now...back off."

Morrigan took the Inquisitor's warning and slowly backed away from the Well until Rajmael was satisfied enough to lower his sword. She took a deep breath and finally calmed down. "The Well clearly offers power, Inquisitor. If that power can be turned against Corypheus, can we afford not to use it?"

Abelas shook his head pitiably and looked at the Well with pain in his eyes. "Do you even know what you ask? As each servant of Mythal reached the end of their years, they would pass their knowledge on...through this. All that we were. All that we knew...it would be lost forever."

"I know the pain you're suffering, Abelas. It is a pain my people carry every day, seeing the world we once ruled reject and revile us." Rajmael sympathized, remembering just how hard his own life was. "Trying to hold on to what's left, I know that hurts."

"You...cannot imagine. Each time we awake, it slips further from our grasp." Abelas lamented.

"There are other places, friend. Other duties. Your people yet linger." Solas beseeched.

"Elvhen such as you?" Abelas asked with a faint hint of hope in his voice.

"Yes. Such as I." Solas answered truthfully.

What were they talking about? Rajmael knew Solas' knowledge of the lost and unknown was vast, but did he know of other ancient elves who might exist? He would have to wait until later, if they make it out of here.

Abelas took one last sorrowful look at the Well before turning his attention back to Rajmael. "You have shown respect to Mythal, and there is a righteousness in you that I cannot deny. Is that your desire? To partake of the Vir'Abelasan as best you can, to defeat your enemy."

"Only if you permit us." Rajmael answered.

"One does not gain permission. One obtains the right." Abelas answered. The ancient Sentinel finally turned and walked away from the Well. He did not show it, but Rajmael recognized the pain he was in. "The Vir'Abelasan may be too much for a mere mortal to comprehend. Brave it if you must but know you this: You shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal."

"Bound? To a goddess who no longer exists, if she ever did?" Morrigan scoffed.

"Bound as we are bound. The choice is yours." Abelas answered ominously. "But my duty is over now."

"Where will you go?" Rajmael asked.

"Away. Perhaps there are some places the shemlen have not yet touched." Abelas sighed.

"That might be difficult." Dorian responded regrettably. "The ancient Imperium went to great lengths to sponge out elven history. You might be the last to know the truth. Perhaps you could seek out other elves, the ones who live today. There is so much you could teach them."

"Would the 'elves' of your lands even listen to the truth?"

"Perhaps." Dorian shrugged. "Would it hurt to try? To help them understand who they are?"

"It might shemlen. It very well might."

"There is a place for you, lethalin...if you seek it." Solas urged gently.

"Perhaps others of my kind exist," said Abelas. "Or perhaps only uthenera awaits us. The blissful sleep of eternity, never to awaken and only dream. If fate is kind."

"Wait. There is something I must know." Rajmael beseeched. "If you truly are a servant of Mythal, if you do know what fate befell our people, then please tell me: what happened to Mythal? What happened to our gods?"

"As I said before, Inquisitor, elven legends say that Mythal was tricked, along with the rest of the gods Fen'heral, and banished forever in the Beyond." Morrigan asserted confidently.

"'Elven' legends are wrong." Abelas answered gravely. "The Dread Wolf had nothing to do with her murder."

That caught Morrigan off guard. "Murder? I said nothing of-"

"You know nothing of elven history, shemlen." Abelas interjected. "I know not what happened to the other gods, only that they too are silent. Mythal was slain, if a god truly can be slain. Betrayed by those who destroyed this temple. Yet the Vir'Abelasan still remains. As do we. That is something. And now, I leave it to you."

"Ma serannas, Abelas." Rajmael thanked respectfully.

"Do not thank me, Dirth'ena Enasalin." Abelas pitied. "You still must pay the price."

"Malas amelin ne halam, Abelas." Solas said encouragingly.

Abelas looked back at the Well one last time with heartbreak in his eyes, then turned respectfully to Rajmael. "Garas'a enasalin, Ghil-dirthalen"

With his duty finally over, after centuries of devoted vigilance, the ancient elf walked away, and back into obscurity, like everything connected to the ancients. Rajmael could not help but feel regret and shame. Just like the Red Templars who invaded this place, he helped rob this people of everything they were, and all for the sake of a world that spits on the elves.

"His name, it means 'Sorrow'." Solas informed. "I said 'I hope he finds a new name'."

"And what about you, Inquisitor?" Varric asked. "What did you say?"

"Abelas said 'May you find victory, Seeker of True Knowledge." Rajmael answered dourly. "He called me 'Inquisitor'."

Rajmael and Morrigan turned their attention to the Well. On the other side of the Well was an inactive eluvian, long since made silence.

"You'll note the intact eluvian." Morrigan pointed. "I was right on that account at least."

"Is it still a threat? Could Corypheus use it to access the Fade?"

"You recall how I told you that every key for an eluvian is different, yes? The Well is the key. Take it, and Mythal's last eluvian is as useless to him as a sheet of glass." Morrigan answered.

The two mages stared at the Well, it's power demanding their attention. It was a pool of water, shallow yet so dark it may as well have been a bottomless pit. It was unnaturally still, as if it refused to move by anything. Despite its stillness, Rajmael couldn't help but feel something from the Well. Not just a reservoir of ancient knowledge, but some kind of presence lingered within the Well's dark water. An ominous feel, like a great pit that could never be filled. Looking at made Rajmael feel a sense of hesitant fear, like standing on the edge of a cliff, not knowing if you'll survive the fall.

Morrigan stared at the Well with an almost blank look in her eyes. Like she was in a trance. "'Tis strange. I did not expect the Well to feel so...hungry."

"All power demands a price, Morrigan. And all gods demand sacrifice." Rajmael warned.

"Knowledge begets a hunger for more." Morrigan stated, still in her semi-trance. She turned to the Inquisitor with a determined look on her face. "I am willing to pay the price the Well demands. I am also the best suited to use its knowledge in your service."

"Or more likely to your own ends." Solas accused.

"And what would you know of my 'ends', elf?" Morrigan demanded.

"You are a glutton! Drooling at the sight of a feast, seeking power you neither understand or have even earned. You cannot be trusted." Solas answered angrily.

"Of those present, I alone have the training to decipher the Well's knowledge." Morrigan insisted.

"You didn't even know of the Well's existence until today, Morrigan. Now you think you have the power to decipher something you know nothing of, as if you have the right to?!" Rajmael interrogated. "This is elven knowledge, something I have devoted my whole life to reclaiming!"

"I have delved into the oldest lore! Studied mysterious that you could only dream of." Morrigan argued. "Can you honestly tell me there is anyone more suited to this task than I?"

"Solas? You know more about the secrets of the ancients than anyone, and you respect the knowledge of our people. You could do this." Rajmael pleaded his fellow elf.

"No, I cannot. Do not ask me again." Solas answered dangerously. "You do not know what you're asking."

"Then it's me." Rajmael said with steel in his voice. "I have waited too long, lost too much just to let the greatest rediscovery of my people's history fall into your hands, Morrigan!"

"You lead the Inquisition. The world, your people, need you to be their protector. This is not a risk you must take." Morrigan claimed.

"Is there no other way?" Dorian interrupted. "I know this might seem hypocritical coming from a Tevinter mage, but if this is truly the last piece of elven knowledge, then right do we have to just take it? It doesn't belong to us. If we take it like this, we are no better than Corypheus."

"If we do not take it, then Corypheus will. Is that what you want, Pavus? A decision must be made." Morrigan asserted.

"If that is the case, then I say you take it, Inquisitor." Vivienne spoke out with a deathly look at the Chasind she despised. "This witch has already proven she cannot be trusted. By all accounts, the power of this Well rightfully belongs to you. It is your birthright! You should not let anyone else claim it."

"If this power can be used against Corypheus, then it's better not to let someone you don't trust have it." Blackwall advocated. "You've already proven that you know how to wield power like this. I wouldn't trust it to anyone else."

"Stupid elfy things and their creepy demon stuff is nothing but trouble. Let the creepy witch take and let's forget this place." Sera demanded.

"I don't know, Boss. Even that Abelas guy seemed scared of this thing. Maybe listen to Sera on this one?" Iron Bull suggested.

Varric groaned in frustration. "Andraste's tits this is hard. Daisy would have given her life for just a mirror, and that didn't turn out well. But this isn't something you can find and put back together. Maybe you should take it. Maker knows you'll probably never find anything like this again."

Cassandra had conflictions of her own. All this talk of gods and sacrifices clashed with her devotion to the Maker and her feelings for Rajmael. "I understand that you want to protect this, Rajmael. Andraste, I know that seeing this temple like this hurts you. But these ancient rituals and magics demand heavy prices, and it may not be one you should have to pay. I dread to think what this would demand from you, my love."

"The Well demands a price. It will give you what you want, but it will take even more from you." Cole said quietly.

"Inquisitor, listen to me, please." Solas begged. "I understand what you're feeling right now, more than you could possibly know. You want to reclaim this knowledge for the People, but some things aren't meant to be shared. You know what it means to serve, and what the price of servitude demands. The Inquisition has taken much from you, just as it did Ameridan. If you truly believe in Mythal, that her power was real, that she commanded the power that Corypheus covets, then you know the price gods demand from those in their service. Is that a price you wish to pay?"

Solas' words struck Rajmael's mind like lightning, everything he had learned about the Well flooded back to mind. The warning that Abelas gave them, the memories of the forlorn priests from different lifetimes who gave themselves to the Well. Rajmael realized the truth, the terrible price that was mentioned. The huger he felt emanating from the Well. Why only those who knew halam'shivanas, the sweet sacrifice of duty came to the Well. Something he understood, and Morrigan did not.

Rajmael looked deep into the Well, his mind conflicted with the choice before. "Looking at, hearing it...this isn't just a vault for the elven priests stored their knowledge. It's their collective will. The will to serve Mythal."

"How would you know such a thing?" Morrigan asked curiously.

"Because you're not the only one who's studied the works of the ancients! Because that is what Abelas warned us about!" Rajmael yelled. "The collective will of the priests puts whoever drinks it under a compulsion they must obey, a geas! Or are you too numb to feel that?"

"That...would explain the legends, but it does not say what the geas entails. I would still use the Well, but you are right, we must be cautious." Morrigan finally agreed, but not enough to relent.

"You saw how zealous Abelas and his Sentinels were, Morrigan, but they were not priests, only the guard dogs. What do you think the priests of Mythal must have been like?" Rajmael reminded. "I was Dirth'ena Enasalin and First of my clan long before I was Inquisitor, I know what it means to serve, what it demands. What it takes from you. You discard the very notion of servitude, you do not see the honor, nor are willing to submit to such a thing. Do you really think you're capable of paying the Well's price?"

"Bound to the will of a dead god? It seems an empty threat. Perhaps the will of the priests may take their toll on me, but I do not fear it, even so." Morrigan answered honestly and with all her self-confidence.

"And what's to stop you from taking the Well's power for yourself and leaving once you have it?" Rajmael demanded.

"My word." Morrigan answered with all the honesty she had.

"And what's the word of a lying thief worth, truly?" Rajmael looked at the Well. Never before had he been so conflicted. Everything he desired, his sole purpose in life, the chance to rediscover the knowledge his people lost lied in this Well. But was also aware of the price that all gods demanded for their favor. He remembered what the Jaws of Hakkon did, the destruction they could have caused by binding the might of the god of winter and war. He remembered what Nethras sought to accomplish, the power he and his Vir Banal'ras wielded from Elgar'nan's Blessing, and the terrible toll it took. No, this was not a price he could pay. He was still a walker of the Lonely Path, he would never submit. "You...are an arrogant fool, Morrigan. You seek knowledge you know nothing of or even respect, and you think you alone can wield it. And you care nothing for the consequences or what they can take from you."

"I told you already, I am willing to accept those consequences, whatever they may be." Morrigan insisted fervently.

"Then you are just like Corypheus." Rajmael scorned, earning a glare of anger from the witch. "Drink from the Well, then, and choke on it."

"A most wise decision, Inquisitor." Morrigan thanked.

"Don't make me regret this, Morrigan, or you will." Rajmael watched Morrigan wade into the Well. He could feel it's power awakening from its slumber, surrounding her. Rajmael felt waves of self-loathing and loss crash against is soul as he watched Morrigan take the last bit of knowledge of his people's heritage. It was almost like what he felt when he watched Evanura died, or when he killed Nethras. Everything he had sworn to claim for his people, everything he had dedicated his life to finding, and he was letting someone else take it, all because he was afraid of the consequences. In the back of his mind, Rajmael could feel Nethras kicking his ass for letting something that rightfully belonged to their people slip through his grasp. All he could do now was hope that this was the right decision.

The Well's waters came alive as Morrgan waded into the prize she finally had claim to. Streams of magic glowing like candle lights fluttered around the soul brave enough to dare the Vir'abelasan's price. At long last, another had come to give of themselves to Mythal. Rajmael could feel the power stirring from the Well, like dragon finally waking from years of slumber. And it was hungry.

Before any of them could realize what was going on, the Well's waters consumed Morrigan in a cascade of bright blue magic before erupting into a wave of white light. The Well's waters evaporated into nothing, leaving an unconscious Morrigan behind. She wasn't moving. Did the Well claim her life? Was that the price?

"Morrigan!" Rajmael called, he may willing to kill her to stop her foolishness, but he didn't want her to die from it. "Wake up!"

Morrigan's eyes shot open and she gasped for air as though she was trying to breath life back into her own body. She seemed confused, bewildered. Like she was trying to make sense of a bad dream she had forgotten. "Ellasin sallah! Vissan...vissanalah..."

What did she just say? That was of the best elven he had ever heard, except perhaps from Solas. What did the Well reveal to her? Already Rajmael regretted letting her take the Well's knowledge as a lump of envy swelled inside him.

Morrigan staggered to her feet, trying to regain her thoughts. "I...am intact. 'Tis difficult to sift through...but now we can..."

A pillar of fire exploded through the temple's entryway followed by the rancid stink of brimstone and rotting flesh. Out from the billowing smoke came the demonic silhouette of Corypheus. A triumphant and vile grin spread across the flesh of his twisted face. At long last he had found his prize.

The Elder One's victorious smile quickly soured into a twisted scowl of rage at the sight of his enemy already standing at the Well. How dare they touch a power reserved only for gods?! If he can't have the Well's knowledge, no one will!

"AAAAAARRRRGHHHHHH!" Corypheus' scream erupted from his tainted mouth so powerfully that it could have put his pet dragon to shame. He furiously conjured and black cloud and flew towards the wretches who dared rob him of victory.

Without a plan to permanently kill the immortal magister, the Inquisition had to pull out now. But the only way out was to get past Corypheus, who was flying right at them.

"Quick, through the eluvian!" Morrigan merely pointed to the mirror and it activated from dormancy.

"Everyone, go! Now!"

There was no time think, no time to hesitate. All of them ran to the magic mirror, Rajmael waited until he made sure that every member of his party made it through. Corypheus was getting closer, Rajmael could feel the taint emanating from his being.

The Well's waters swirled out of nothing like a tidal wave, halting Corypheus' advance. Rajmael wasn't sure if his eyes could be trusted, but he saw the silhouette of a woman standing in side the wall of water, barring the magister from getting any closer. Rajmael didn't know what was happening, but he wasn't going to stick around long enough to find out. With Corypheus distracted, he jumped through the eluvian.

What was this? Another wretched guardian these pathetic elves thought would stand in his way? The strange spirit had the visage of an ethereal woman. She held her hand up before him as though she had the gall to order him to stop. This wretched thing would avail nothing!

The Elder One clawed at the apparition, but it flew out of his reach and soared into the eluvian, Corypheus flew after it. He must reach the mirror! It was barely within inches of his clawed hands, and it shattered. The explosion sent him flying back to Well's threshold.

Corypheus staggered to his feet and stared at everything he had so desperately tried to take as his own. Here he stood at the Well with eluvian nearby, after sacrificing all that remained of his forces. To have found his prize, yet it may as well be on the other side of the world. If his blood had been fire, his heart would be furnace burning with rage. He raised his head to the sky that he once tore open, and screamed his rage to the world. He will gain entry to the Fade. He will become the god this world deserved. But first, he must show the world the weakness of its faith. He must kill the Herald, and world will watch him snuff its final hope out into dust.

Language Codex:

Na milana sel Vilnalas: Elven, possible translation, "You shall not enter".

Vir'abelasan: Elven, translates as, "Path to the Well of Sorrows".

Atish'all Vir Abelas'an: Elven, translates as "Enter the Path to the Well of Sorrows."

Dal'en tir Asha'bellanar: Elven, roughly translates as "Child of the Woman of Many Years".

Mythal enaste: Elven, translates as "Mythal's Blessing".

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

Ma serannas: Elven, translates literally as "My thanks".

Shemlen: Elven term for humans, translates literally as "Quick Children".

Venavis: Elven, translates as "halt" or "stop".

Abelas: Elven, translates literally as "Sorrow".

Eluvian: Elven, translates literally as "Mirror".

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

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

Garas'a enasalin, Ghil-dirthalen: Elven, translates as "Find Victory, One Who Seeks Truth", or "Go to victory, Inquisitor."

Author's Note:

And here we are, as promised. Two updates in one month to make up for the two months of nothing.

I will try to get my next chapter out as soon as possible, but I make no promises.

Obviously, I don't want to rush what comes next. I want to get every detail right.

Please review and tell me what you think.