The Breach was still a long way up.

Kira stared up at it as the mages arranged themselves throughout the destroyed temple, preparing to pour their magic into her mark in order to restore the skies to normal. The Breach had stabilized since last they'd attempted this, but it was still overwhelming. What if it didn't work? What if the Breach was too powerful?

Kira shivered in the cold midday wind and tried to pretend that there was nothing to fear.

They'd set out for the temple before dawn. Their trek through the valley that had once been laid waste was surreal. The last time Kira had traveled that way, the valley had been overtaken with demons, destruction, and death. Now there was little that remained of the devastation, save for a few collapsed bridges and burned ruins. It was peaceful and quiet in the mountains, and though the Breach loomed ever larger over their heads, it was almost enough to calm Kira down.

Almost.

But she heard the ever-present whispers behind her from mages and Inquisition soldiers alike. They were all relying on her. They had absolute faith in her.

She just didn't have the same faith in herself.

She was no Herald of Andraste. She'd been a fool to let the rumors go on as they had. She was just an ordinary woman who wanted nothing more than to live an ordinary life. She didn't want to be a hero. She didn't want to save the day.

Her breathing was coming faster now, her gasps creating clouds before her in the cold. No, she thought. I can't panic. Not here. Not now. She crossed her arms over her chest, biting the inside of her cheek until it bled. The sudden pain sharpened her focus, cleared her mind, and she forced herself to take deep breaths until she had herself back under control.

"Are you ready, Herald?" Cassandra was at her shoulder, oblivious to Kira's inner panic.

"Yes," Kira managed to rasp. Then she stepped toward the rift.

There was a flurry of activity behind her. She was dimly aware of Solas shouting orders to the mages. She wondered what his instructions were. The rift at the base of the Breach was crackling so loudly around her that she couldn't hear. Walking towards it was like walking through molasses. It was almost as if the Breach knew why she was there. And it didn't want to be closed.

There was a sudden jerk beneath her navel, and then a rush of pure energy enveloped her from behind. Kira raised her hand toward the Breach, trying desperately to control the power surging through her veins. She remembered Solas's instructions to act as a channel for the magic. "Don't try to hold it," he'd warned her. "Or it will destroy you."

He'd never said how hard it would be.

The pure energy of the mages' combined mana seared through her, filling her with a raging, unquenchable fire that threatened to overtake her completely. The mark on her hand flared to life, flaring white-hot, burning away her leather glove and blinding onlookers with its heat and light. Her entire body began to glow.

She took a step closer to the Breach.

The magic arced from her hand and into the air to connect with the Breach. Wind whipped around Kira as a low, angry whine filled the air. She bent into the wind, forcing herself closer to the Breach, stubbornly refusing to lower her hand. She would not sever this connection. The Breach would be sealed.

It battled her for one long moment, and then two; the connection between Kira and the Breach crackled and sparked -

There was a terrible crack and a flash of light, and Kira was thrown backward from the Breach.

There was a long moment in which she couldn't bring herself to move. Was this what death felt like? Had the Breach killed her? Was that the price of its closing?

But then she heard movement around her as the others got to their feet, and she realized that she was alive, gloriously alive, and she struggled to her knees. She looked up -

The Breach was gone.

A cheer rose up around her as she stared up at the sky, tears of relief falling down her cheeks. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to find Cassandra smiling down at her. The Seeker helped her up and pulled her in for a hug.

All around her, people were celebrating. Leliana materialized at Kira's side with a congratulatory grin; Solas came to grasp her arm. Cullen appeared, and Kira couldn't help but throw her arms around his neck.

"I knew you could do it," Cullen whispered in her ear, giving her a squeeze before stepping back.

Suddenly, Kira couldn't stop smiling. The Breach was closed.

The Breach was closed.

All around Kira, people were celebrating.

They'd returned to Haven to find a party underway, no doubt organized by Josephine. There was music, and dancing, and plenty of ale, and everyone seemed to be having a grand time.

Kira stood with Cassandra, watching them all from the sidelines.

"Solas confirms the heavens are scarred but calm. The Breach is sealed," Cassandra said, relief evident in her voice. "We've reports of lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this was a victory. Word of your heroism has spread."

"You know how many were involved," protested Kira. "Luck put me at the center."

"A strange kind of luck. I'm not sure if we need more or less," agreed Cassandra wryly. "But you're right. This was a victory of alliance. One of the few in recent memory." She paused. "With the Breach closed, that alliance will need new focus."

"Oh, come on, Cassandra!" groaned Kira. "Can't we worry about that tomorrow? Let's relax. We've earned it!"

And so she dragged the protesting Seeker into the fray.

It was a relief to throw caution to the wind and allow herself to have fun. Having spent most of her life in a Circle, she'd had little opportunity to attend parties, and never had she seen this much unbridled joy in one place. It was a heady thing, victory, and they all congregated in Haven's center to enjoy the moment of peace.

She saw Varric and Sera sitting on crates near the fire, engaged in a drinking contest. Kira couldn't tell who was winning, but then, she was never really sure who was the winner in that kind of thing anyway. Was it better to drink more and feel worse the next day, or less and be back to normal sooner? Either way, she couldn't begrudge them their fun. They'd earned a little indulgence.

Josephine had taken up residence in a large, open-air tent with several dignitaries who had been visiting Haven. Vivienne held court there, proving herself to be the social butterfly she'd always claimed. Kira made an appearance there, of course, accepting the lofty congratulations of the nobles, but she made her exit as quickly as was polite. She abhorred politics, and the great political minds of Thedas never rested. Not even on a night like tonight, when a great victory had been won for the Inquisition.

She saw Blackwall brooding by the fire, a mug of ale in his hands; he looked rather less morose than he normally did, though, so she let him be.

She didn't see Leliana - the spymaster was more than likely keeping an eye on everything from the shadows - but even Solas lingered on the outskirts of the party, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched the drunken antics of the townsfolk and their companions.

The Iron Bull asked her to dance, wiggling his eyebrows and making a rather leading comment about redheads. Kira laughed and joined him for a dance, though she was careful not to imply she'd like to do anything more. She felt eyes on her as she danced, and she glanced up to find Cullen watching with a frown.

When she'd finished her dance with Bull, she plopped down on a log that had been rolled near the fire with her second mug of ale to catch her breath. She hadn't danced properly in years, and she was very out of practice.

Dorian found her there, joining her with a grin. "I would have expected to see you dancing with our dear commander," he commented.

Kira glanced at him, already halfway through her mug and beginning to feel it. "Whatever do you mean?" she asked.

"Oh, is it supposed to be a secret?" asked Dorian, waving a hand dismissively. "That's no fun."

Kira blushed furiously, but turned up her nose at the Tevinter mage. "I've no idea what you mean," she said. There was nothing between she and Cullen - nothing except friendship and an almost-kiss that she had purposefully avoided thinking about. But Dorian didn't need to know that.

"Sure you don't," Dorian agreed amicably. "Which is, of course, why he looked simply murderous while you danced with the Iron Bull."

"He did not!" She shoved Dorian playfully, giggling a little in spite of herself. Damn this ale.

"Ah, my dear, you are a horrible liar."

Kira stuck her tongue out at him. It was very un-Herald-like behavior, and he practically guffawed with laughter.

"Well," she said, pretending to be affronted. "If you're going to laugh at me, I'll take my ale elsewhere."

"The Commander is right over there," Dorian said impishly, pointing to a quiet spot across the party where Cullen was indeed standing. Unfortunately, Cullen was watching them, and Kira saw the Commander blush when he realized Dorian was pointing to him. Then the ex-templar began to walk towards where they were seated.

"Goodbye, my lady Herald," said Dorian, practically skipping past the Commander as he approached.

Cullen looked, in a word, nervous. He ran his hand through his golden hair and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably as he came to a stop in front of her. "Did you need something, my lady?"

"Oh - I -" Kira stammered, blushing furiously and cursing the ale for making her appear to be a blithering idiot. "No, I was just - Dorian was just saying that he hasn't seen you dance yet tonight, Commander."

Cullen chuckled. "If he is hoping to see me dance, I'm afraid he will be sorely disappointed."

"Oh," said Kira, her face falling. She hadn't realized how much she had been hoping for a dance until then. "I was rather hoping… I mean, I thought we might…"

"Thought we might… Oh!" Cullen turned crimson. "Oh, I really don't - that is, it's not that I don't want to, but I, uh, I'm on watch."

"You're - what?"

"I'm on watch duty," he explained. "I thought my men deserved the break."

Kira tilted her head to one side. "Don't you deserve a break, Commander?"

"Perhaps. Once they've had theirs."

"Well, that is a shame," she murmured, eyeing Cullen from beneath her lashes. The ale made her bold. "No matter," she added airily. "You must promise to save a dance for me at our next party."

Cullen raised an eyebrow. "Are you planning the next so soon?"

"Perhaps. If it gets me a dance with you."

Cullen flushed scarlet. "I must warn you, I'm not a very good dancer."

"Excellent, neither am I," replied Kira with a cheerful grin.

"Very well, then, my lady. I will be sure to save you a dance in future."

Cullen left her shortly after, on his way to his watch post, and Kira rejoined the celebrations.

She made it past her second cup of ale, through her third, and was on to her fourth by the time midnight struck. She was just preparing to retire to her tent and to the warm bedroll that called to her there when it happened. Warning bells began to toll all across Haven, and shouting from the main gate caught her attention.

She'd only stumbled a few steps when Solas caught up to her to hand her a potion. "Sobriety potion," he explained as she downed it. "I've a feeling you're going to need it."

The potion immediately cleared her mind, and she smiled at the elf in thanks. She could hear the shouts from the gate more clearly now. "Forces approaching!" soldiers shouted. "To arms!"

Kira hurried to the gate, followed closely by Solas. She arrived to find Cassandra and some of her other companions already there, along with the Inquistion's leaders.

"Commander!" Kira barked. "What's happening?"

He turned to her, looking haggard. "One watchguard reporting. It's a massive force, the bulk over the mountain."

"Under what banner?" asked Josephine.

"None."

"None?" the ambassador repeated incredulously.

But Kira was distracted. There were noises coming from beyond the gate, noises of fighting. And then, suddenly, a pounding on the gate. "I can't come in unless you open!" called a frantic voice.

At Kira's nod, two Inquisition soldiers opened the gate.

A figure stalked toward the gate - a templar, from the looks of its armor - and Kira stepped back with a shout. But then the figure fell, downed by a blade in its back. Standing suddenly in the templar's place was a boy. Kira ran toward the boy, determined to help against any other threats that may be outside their gates, and Cullen ran after her, drawing his sword as he did so.

The boy was strange in a way Kira couldn't quite identify, with blond hair and an oversized hat that covered his face. He wore two dagger sheaths on his belt, and as Kira and Cullen approached, he retrieved one of his knives from the templar's body.

"I'm Cole," he said hurriedly, straightening to look at Kira. "I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know."

"What is this?" Kira demanded. "What's going on?"

Cole slipped closer. "The templars come to kill you," he whispered.

"Templars?" snarled Cullen, surging forward to stand between Kira and Cole. The boy jumped back, flinching away from Cullen. "Is this the Order's response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?"

"The red templars went to the Elder One," Cole said. "You know him? He knows you. You took his mages." Cole turned to point to a nearby hill. "There."

Atop the hill stood two men. One looked like an average person; the other did not.

"I know that man," murmured Cullen absently. "But this Elder One…"

The Elder One towered over the first man, easily twice his height. Kira couldn't see well from where she stood, but was the Elder One glowing?

"He's very angry that you took his mages," said Cole.

"Commander, give me a plan! Anything!" Kira said. She turned to him, frightened, and saw the same fear reflected in his eyes.

"Haven is no fortress," he said. "If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle." He took a deep breath. "Get out there and hit that force. Use everything you can. And Kira!" he added, grabbing her arm as she started to move away. She paused, looking up to meet his gaze. "Be careful."

Cullen released her and turned to the soldiers assembling behind them. "You too," she whispered to his retreating back.

"Mages," Cullen cried. "You have sanction to engage them! That is Samson. He will not make it easy! Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!"

Inside the chantry, the walls reverberated with screams and sobs. Kira paced by the doors, rubbing her mark anxiously. Only a few hours ago, they had all been celebrating. She remembered seeing them all dancing and drinking and laughing. Now, when she looked through the chantry, all she could see were missing people and tearstained faces. They were under attack by a bloody archdemon, and there wasn't a damned thing she could do about it.

They were all going to die, and she wouldn't be able to save them.

Had it all been for nothing, then? The Conclave, the mark on her hand, all of the demons and the rifts and the killing? Had it all been a part of this Elder One's plan, so that he could prepare them, like pigs for slaughter, until he had need of them?

Kira's heart was beating too fast. She wasn't ready to die. Not now. Not like this. There was so much she still wanted to do, to see, to feel -

"Herald," Cullen said, hurrying to her side. She stared at him as though seeing him through new eyes. Maker, he was handsome. She'd thought it before, but she'd always pushed it aside. It would never have worked between them, even if they hadn't been colleagues. He was a templar, no matter what he said about having left the order. But now that she was staring death in the face, she realized that she shouldn't have cared. She should have accepted what he'd meant to her. But now she'd never get the chance.

Was that regret she saw in his eyes, too, or was it just wishful thinking?

"Our position -" he swallowed, looking haunted. "Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us."

"I've seen an archdemon," inserted Cole. Rather unhelpfully, in Kira's opinion, but then, if she was about to die, she'd have been happy to simply drown in Cullen's golden eyes. "I was in the Fade, but it looked like that."

"I don't care what it looks like!" snapped Cullen, his eyes leaving Kira's for only a moment to glare at Cole. "It's cut a path for that army. They'll kill everyone in Haven."

"The Elder One doesn't care about the village. He only wants the Herald," said Cole, oblivious to Cullen's glare.

"If you happen to know why he wants me, I'm all ears," Kira said sarcastically. It hardly mattered at this point, did it? They were all going to die, no matter who the Elder One wanted or why. She turned away, pressing a hand to her forehead, trying to think.

"Herald," Cullen said, and she could tell that he was trying to speak gently. "There are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was that avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide…"

"We're overrun," she whispered. "To hit the enemy, we'd bury… Haven…" But she saw it.

"We're dying, but we can decide how," Cullen said. "Many don't get that choice."

There was a pause. She couldn't look at him. If she did, she'd lose her nerve. Finally, she nodded.

"Chancellor Roderick can help," said Cole, and she turned to the boy with murder in her eyes. If they were dying, she just wanted one last moment of peace. She wanted to tell Cullen -

But then Roderick was telling them about a secret pathway out of Haven, and time seemed to stand still. They can escape, Kira realized, overjoyed for but a moment before she realized that while they could, she could not. They would need a distraction to buy them time, and the Elder One only wanted her.

To ensure their safety, she would have to stay behind.

"If that thing is here for me, then I'll make him fight for it," she said, avoiding Cullen's gaze. "Roderick, can you lead them to the path?"

Cullen grabbed her arm as Cole helped Roderick away, but she shook him off determinedly. "And when the mountain falls?" he asked stubbornly, grabbing her and turning her to him. "What about you?" There was only silence. She couldn't meet his eyes.

"Kira…" he said pleadingly, and she made the mistake of looking up. Hearing the pain in his voice almost made her come undone.

"Don't," she whispered. "Please. I can't -"

Cullen opened his mouth as though to say more, but at the sight of the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes, he clenched his jaw. "Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way…"

But they both knew it was a lie.

Then she felt the weight of her phylactery on its cord around her neck.

"Cullen!" she gasped, grabbing his hand as he started to turn away, pulling him back to her. He looked puzzled as she fumbled with the stiff neck of her overcoat to yank the phylactery's cord over her head. Still grasping his hand, she pressed the phylactery into his. "Stay safe," she whispered in his ear, her hands lingering on his for a few moments too long.

Then, before she could change her mind, she curled his fingers over the glass vial and fled into the night.

When Kira disappeared through the chantry doors, Cullen felt as though a piece of himself had gone with her. He stood for a few moments, frozen, until a roar from the dragon outside shook him from his stupor. Sweet Andraste, guide her back to me, he prayed silently, not even pausing to think about the words. He knew it now, knew it as surely as if she had carved it on his heart: he loved her.

He loved her, and he'd never told her.

So blinded by regret was he that it took him a few moments of shouting orders before he remembered that she'd given him some kind of necklace. From her whispered plea to stay safe, he'd assumed that it was some kind of good luck charm; when he realized what it really was, he nearly dropped it.

Kirana Trevelyan had given him her phylactery.

She was a mage, and she had given him, an ex-templar, her phylactery.

He didn't have time to think about it now. Not when she was going to die, and none of it was going to matter anyway. He couldn't think about it, or he would chase after her, fight and die beside her, Inquisition be damned. But he couldn't do that. She wouldn't want that.

He heard her whispered words, felt her warm breath on his cheek. Stay safe, she'd said. He looped the cord around his neck, tucking the phylactery safely beneath his armor. He'd do his best to stay safe, then, for her. Andraste, please, watch over her.

He prayed silently and ceaselessly all through their evacuation of Haven, as he organized troops, helped carry the injured, and triple-checked every nook and cranny of the chantry to ensure no one was left behind. He needn't have bothered; no one was fool enough to want to stay anywhere near the archdemon, or the dragon, or whatever it was.

The hidden path started from a room beneath the chantry and wound up through the mountainside. The moved as quickly as they could in such confined quarters, and Cullen was surprised that they were able to make good time. When they emerged into snow and ice somewhere far beyond Haven without having heard an avalanche crashing down on their heads, he thought that maybe Kira had failed, maybe she'd escaped, maybe she'd died, maybe, maybe, maybe…

But then they saw it. The rock from the trebuchet, arching through the sky and into the side of the mountain. They heard the impact and watched with awe as what appeared to be half the mountainside crashed into the valley.

"She did it," someone murmured, awestruck.

Someone else wailed, and Cullen had to bite his cheek until it bled to keep himself from falling to his knees in the snow. She'd done it. And that meant she was gone. There was no surviving an avalanche, not when she was right in its path.

They marched on, right into the path of a raging blizzard, climbing further and further into the mountains. It was hard going, but they pressed on until they found shelter between two peaks, where they were marginally protected from the wind and snow.

They set up camp, or as much of a camp as could be set up given the circumstances. Someone had thought to bring the supplies they had been storing beneath the chantry, so they had a fair few tents to set up. Those went to the injured, then to any children who had been in Haven. Any able-bodied man or woman, whether soldier, mage, or civilian, was put in a guard rotation. Those not on duty slept in the tents, while those who'd been given the first watch were stationed around their makeshift camp.

Cullen stayed busy, refusing to stop or think for fear of what would happen when he did. He barked orders, erected tents, paced between watch posts, until finally, there was nothing more to be done. Then he stood on the edge of camp, facing toward the way they'd come, hoping, praying, wishing for a miracle. That Kira would appear at any moment from the darkness, shivering, perhaps, but otherwise none the worse for wear, to fall into his arms.

Cassandra appeared at his left elbow, startling him. "You should get some rest, Commander," she said. "There's nothing more to do until daybreak." Her voice was thick with emotion - regret, sorrow, guilt: all the things that he felt, too.

"I'm not tired," he lied, his mouth set in a thin line.

Cassandra shook her head, too weary to argue. "Have it your way, then." She moved on.

An hour passed as he stood there, watching, waiting, remembering. He thought of every moment he'd spent with Kira, of every smile they'd shared, of every laugh she'd coaxed from him. It had been easy to laugh with her; she'd made him comfortable from the start. He'd never expected to find someone to love in a mage, in the Herald of Andraste, in the de facto leader of the Inquisition. Nor had he expected to lose her as soon as he'd found her.

He spent another hour cursing himself as an idiot in as many creative ways as he could think of.

It was when he ran out of curses that he returned to praying, pleading with the Maker and Andraste and anyone who would listen to please, please, just grant him this one miracle, please.

And it was after he could think of no more prayers that he finally, finally, remembered the phylactery.

Cullen pulled the vial from under his armor, gently tugging the cord over his head. He stared at the phylactery in his hand, barely visible in the dim light of flickering torches somewhere behind him. It was a simple glass vial, sealed on both ends and containing a dark liquid that Cullen knew to be Kira's blood. He'd seen dozens of phylacteries, but none had filled him with such sorrow.

He pulled off a glove, holding the glass vial in his hand as he began to pray anew, planning to ignore the biting cold of the blizzard so that he could hold this little piece of her that remained close.

Except the biting cold never came.

Instead, he felt a faint, flickering warmth from the phylactery.

"Impossible," he breathed, staring at the little glass vial in his hand. It shouldn't still be warm, unless -

He found a sentry and sent him to fetch Cassandra. When she arrived, haggard and half-awake, Cullen pulled her aside.

"I think she's still alive," he told the Seeker in hushed whispers. "I'm going to find her."

"You - what - Cullen!" she sputtered, trying to stop him, but he was already gone.

Cullen slogged through the snow for what felt like hours, clutching the phylactery in his hand and following its dim warmth. He'd never had to use a phylactery to hunt a mage before, and he wasn't entirely sure that he was following it correctly, but it was growing warmer in his hand as he walked, and so he carried on. Every now and then, he stopped, focusing on the phylactery's warmth, and called on his power to feel for the thread of magic that connected it to its owner. Then he'd strike out in that direction, correcting his course little by little.

After a while, he noticed that the phylactery's warmth was dimming; its fluttering was getting quicker and shallower, like a heartbeat nearing its end. "Hold on, Kira," he whispered, pushing himself ever faster through the knee-high snow. "Hold on."

The blizzard had passed him by when he found her, illuminated by the light of a full moon in the wake of the blizzard's clouds. She lay nearly covered in snow, curled in a ball, unmoving as he fell to his knees beside her. He tugged the phylactery over his head, stuffing it beneath his tunic as he pulled off his armor. He wrapped her in his thick overcoat, replaced the armor on top of his thinner tunic, and took her in his arms.

He had to get her back to camp. That was the only way she would survive.

He picked her up carefully. Her breathing came in short gasps against his neck, rattling in a way he didn't like at all. He held her close, moving as quickly as he could through the snow, following his tracks as best he could back in the direction he'd come.

It wasn't long before his tracks faded entirely. He'd been walking through a blizzard, after all, and he cursed himself for coming out here without a plan. He'd been so determined to find her that he hadn't thought things through. How could he hope to save her - to save either of them - if he couldn't find his way back?

But then, blessed Andraste, he saw light on the horizon - and, given its approximate location, he had to assume it was from Inquisition campfires. He hurried on. Now that he had been so focused on her phylactery for hours, he felt it tugging insistently at the back of his mind. As she'd warmed, its fluttering had solidified into solid beats, and though they still weren't as strong as he'd have liked, he felt certain that if he could just reach camp, she would survive.

And reach camp he did, to shouts of amazement and awe.

A tent was cleared for her, and Cullen carried her to a cot that had been set up in its center. Vivienne joined them, shooing Cullen away so that she could heal the Herald in privacy. He almost refused, but only just remembered that whatever his own feelings, Kira was still the Herald and he was still the Commander, and he owed it to her and the Inquisition to keep his feelings under control.

Cullen was ushered to a tent nearby, where he was examined by Solas and sent to bed. He was certain he wouldn't sleep, that he should be standing guard outside Kira's tent, but they insisted, and when he laid down, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.