Blessed are they who stand before

The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.

Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.

The tower was silent. Aside from the occasional shift of metal from the guards left to shadow the hallways, nothing else stirred. No laughter, no pattering of young mageling feet as I was once accustomed to. Once again, this place had become a shell of death. In the highest corners of each floor, blood and flesh still pulsed as a containing reminder of the tragedy. Of my mistake.

I should have followed my judgment.

I knew this song, I knew what it had entailed - yet against every alarm in my body I had heeded the elf's demand. Her demands. Spoken through the fiery lips of her halfbreed monstrosity of a child. Perhaps she had saved a few, yes, but at the risk of another incident. It was only a matter of time.

I knew why she'd done it, not for this tower, and nor for its mages. She never gave a damn about them, and it was only a blatant lie to pretend her causes were just, that they were not as selfish as mine had been all those years ago.

I had not spent all my years training to turn a blind eye to what was right in front of me, and from the day he laid eyes on her I knew that he would protect her with his life, as foolish as it was. He was reckless and a gamble at that, but one of the finest and most dedicated templars I had ever trained. In service of his Maker, he had sacrificed his mind and body to protect the others. Even though no others had survived, through it he had proven an indomitable resilience I could not ignore - no matter how flawed his moral perceptions were. After all, I had once been in a painfully similar situation. She had been my savior and destroyer.

Kaidasa..

My heart grew heavy and head throbbed with memory. Ill thoughts conceive ill emotions. I no longer had the naivety to entertain the idea of her or anything pertaining to that dark time. With the tower in shambles and most of if not all of my charges gone, perhaps this had been a necessary evil to finally make him understand the dangers of trusting a mage. If this was the only way to learn, then so be it. Perhaps this was a reminder to myself that what I had done was justified, that this was the right path. The only path. The annulment was in the tower's best interest, despite my yielding to petty concerns of Wynne and the others. No longer was the case, and now all I could do was grit my teeth and pull my men back together.

In the shadow of twilight, the halls were nearly impenetrable. With no charges left to watch, guards were not needed aside from the first floor. The rest were sent to their quarters for the remainder of every night. I strolled down the hallway, a torch in one hand to light my way. My hollow steps echoed down the winding distance, playing across the stone walls with ominous intent.

I had intended to run a quick route through the upper levels, though I knew it was not necessary. The mages remaining were too old and too wearied by the recent events to bother ignoring protocol. The few remaining apprentices were too scared to leave their dorms at night now, and huddled within the safety of the first floor like frightened sheep.

As I rounded the corner, I noticed the door to the chantry stood ajar, and a light flickered within. Cautious, I placed my torch within an iron sconce on the wall and stepped inside. The door creaked in the slightest, but not enough to alert whatever person or persons had snuck inside at such a late hour. I could see a candle flickering at the other end of the chapel, and a figure crouched in the dark. Hiding, maybe.

I heavied my stride as the guilty party came within my sights. Once I was within a dozen paces of the man, I recognized the dull shine from the surface of his armor that reflected distorted candlelight. Across his back slung the emblem of our purpose, a flaming sword etched into the shield. I could see visible red hair tucked between clasped hands as he continued his fervent, but steady prayer.

These truths the Maker has revealed to me:
As there is but one world,
One life, one death, there is
But one god, and He is our Maker.
They are sinners, who have given their love
To false gods.

Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.
Foul and corrupt are they
Who have taken His gift
And turned it against His children.
They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones.
They shall find no rest in this world
Or beyond.

I could not hear fear in his voice, nor a flicker of surprise as he stood to his feet and turned to me with hooded eyes once he had finished his prayer.

"Commander," he addressed me with an empty nod. Still a bit surprised, I gathered myself and took a slow breath.

"I thought I heard mages in here," I commented with a wry look in either direction. It was not beneath him to cover up a mage's treachery in the past, and his appearances would not deceive me. I still felt skepticism that he should escape Uldred with nothing more than a wounded ego. He appeared sharpened by my accusation, and tilted his head further, tightening his features.

"All mages have been secured to their quarters for the night, ser. I shall check again before returning to the templar's dormitory," he retorted, completely unabashed. Not wanting to lose face, I raised my head and paused as I took in his features. His eyes were deadened. Fear, it seemed, had finally escaped him. Good.

"Be certain you do not arrive late for your morning duties, then," I nodded. "I won't have you shirking your new position so soon after awarding it, Cullen." A long pause followed my words, and second after he snapped into a straighter position and bowed with one arm crossed over his chest.

"I shall not falter, Commander," he exposed his neck to me, then raised up again. "That you have my word on." With that, he turned and strode into the darkness.

My attention drifted back to the candle - or candles, rather - that had been lit and burned so many times at the alter that wax melted and hardened enough to create formations over the surface. I wet my index and thumb and put out the new candle that had been lit, then paused as my eyes scanned the tainted surface of the book open on the pedestal. Blood stained its surface. Most likely that of a mage's. Many of the books had been tainted by the attack. It was only cosmetic damage, but it stared out of the smoky darkness like an old wound. Bright and red.