Thank you all for reading! Special thanks to suilven for her support and sharp betaing skills.
Alistair made his way with the Inquisitor's party through the Wilds. So far, the biggest stumbling block they'd faced had been the vines everywhere. Many of them had sharp edges that left a mark like a papercut on exposed skin, or thorns that pricked through cloth. Varric and Lilias and the Inquisitor were suffering the most, in their cloth and leather. Alistair and Cassandra were both fully armored, immune to the vegetation but not to the heat. At least Cassandra was from the north and used to these temperatures, Alistair thought, trying to wipe the sweat off his face and hitting himself in the nose, having forgotten to take off his gauntlet first. It rarely got this hot in Ferelden.
The three mages all appeared cool and comfortable, but then, Morrigan and Merrill had grown up in the wilderness, and Alistair assumed the same had to be true of Solas.
The Red Templars weren't too difficult to fend off. Harder than darkspawn, granted, but having been trained as a Templar, Alistair understood their moves and was ready to counter them. Cassandra had been given similar training in the Seekers, so the two of them made a good fighting pair, with the Inquisitor and Hawke's daggers in support, and Varric and the mages ranged behind. It felt so like the old days that occasionally Alistair turned his head to speak to Leyden, only to have all the pain and knowledge of the intervening years come flooding back.
At last they came in sight of the Temple. Time had worn away at its grandeur, but it was still beautiful. It had been built with care, a long, long while ago.
Next to Alistair, Morrigan gasped.
"What?" Thule asked.
"I think … I think this is the Temple of Mythal. In the legends, the elves came here to worship the goddess."
Thule turned to Solas. "What do you think? Have you dreamed of this place?"
Solas's face was impassive as always. "The legends do speak of the Temple of Mythal," he said, but he left it at that.
Merrill's eyes were shining with wonder. "To think. The Temple of Mythal," she whispered. Solas glanced at her, his eyes softening a bit.
Cassandra had gone on ahead of the rest of them, entering through the remnants of what once must have been a grand archway. She came back out of the darkness inside to say, "Temple of Mythal or not, there is fighting ahead. We should hurry."
The rest of them readied their weapons and followed her. Inside the archway was a long hall, carpeted in soft grasses and moss, leading to another archway, this one in better condition, that framed a picture of a golden lit courtyard. They could all hear the sounds of fighting now.
"Is it the elves?" Lilias asked, meaning the strange elves in the golden armor they had seen more and more of as they had come closer to the Temple. Alistair hated to have to fight them, but they wouldn't back down, so he really had no choice.
"No doubt," Morrigan answered. She was moving closer to the opposite archway. The others followed her, but quietly, not wishing to draw attention to their presence until they were certain of what they would find.
Ahead of them, on railings just on the other side of the archway, were draped the bodies of Red Templars, arrows sticking out of them, blood draining from their wounds. Some were huddled on the ground behind the railing. The elves were doing well, clearly. Alistair took a moment to hope that perhaps the elves had already dealt with Corypheus, that this would be the end.
Of course, if it was, that meant he had to go home to Denerim and return to the throne and decide who he was going to be when he grew up. It meant Lilias would flee again to the wilderness somewhere. Or she would if he couldn't find it within himself to say to her everything he wanted to say.
He glanced at her now, crouched there next to the doorway, her blue eyes trained on what was happening on the other side. She was beautiful, and intelligent, and a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, and he had been a fool six ways from Sunday. Could she really forgive him for everything he had put her through, or was any attempt to woo her back doomed before it began? He remembered her in the cave, the warmth of her, the way she had given herself so freely. She must have forgiven him—if only he could be sure.
He had caught up with the others, standing just back from the archway in the darkness so that his armor wouldn't catch the light. He could see over the railings down into the courtyard, though. A cadre of elves was holding a bridge that led to the inner temple, and facing them …
Was that Corypheus himself? Maker's blood. So they were here now, and this could be it. Alistair prayed it would be, for the sake of all of Thedas.
Seeing Corypheus again—bigger, somehow, and crusted in red lyrium, as if he could look worse than he had when they had first faced him—made Lilias want to vomit. She nearly did, keeping her scanty breakfast down only with an effort of will.
One of the elves spoke, surprisingly harsh words for such a mellifluous language.
Corypheus was dragging an Inquisition scout by the back of his uniform jacket. He lifted him and threw him toward the elf. Clearly the scout was dead, and past caring what indignities were visited upon his body.
Looking down at the elves arrayed before him, Corypheus said, "These are but remnants. They will not keep us from the Well of Sorrows."
The remembered resonance of his voice sent a chill down Lilias's spine. In her distraction, she almost missed the way Morrigan stiffened and half-rose at the name of the well. Thule grasped her arm and pulled her back down behind the thickness of the stone railing.
As Corypheus approached the bridge, the statues on either side lit with power. Familiar with magic and mages, Lilias could feel that power gathering.
Corypheus ignored it, moving closer to the statues and the elves. "Be honored! Witness death at the hands of a new god!"
When he passed them, the pillars poured power into him, energy crackling in the air. Corypheus stiffened and cried out in pain. He reached for the elf in front, lifting him off his feet.
"Haven't we been here before?" Varric whispered.
"I thought we'd killed him then," Lilias said. "What in the Void is he doing here?"
The power between the statues built until it exploded, taking Corypheus and the elf, and the other elves and Red Templars unfortunate enough to be standing too close, with it.
When the power dissipated, the statues had crumbled, and Corypheus had fallen. The mage leading his troops continued with them on across the bridge as though nothing had happened. Lilias didn't like that. With Corypheus fallen, the troops should have no further reason to fight. Something was wrong here.
Morrigan and the Inquisitor had already made their way down the stone steps and were surveying the carnage. Lilias and Varric followed them, the others coming behind.
Alistair caught her arm. "Look." He motioned to a body in Grey Warden armor. The man was dead, clearly, his neck lolling at an unnatural angle, but the body was moving, rising to its knees. "That is damned creepy." Then his face paled. "Oh, Maker, no. No. Come on." Still gripping Lilias's arm, he pulled her toward the bridge. Solas and Merrill followed, and then Varric, with a glance back at Thule. Over her shoulder, Lilias saw brief glimpses of a scene that added up to a single horror: Corypheus resurrecting from the body of the Grey Warden.
"It cannot be!" Morrigan cried. She looked toward Alistair, and must have recognized in his face that he had already realized what was happening—whatever it was. Lilias still didn't understand.
"Across the bridge. Now!" Cassandra called, reaching for the back of the Inquisitor's jacket to haul him along with her. Morrigan ran at their side.
By the time Corypheus's dragon swooped across the courtyard toward him, they were all safely inside the main temple, with the doors firmly closed and barred.
Once the doors were safely closed, a crash on the other side telling them how close a call it had been, Thule turned to Alistair and Morrigan, crossing his arms over his chest. "All right, I want to know what happened there, how Corypheus returned to life. We saw him die!"
"So did we!" Varric protested. "I mean, we didn't just think Corypheus was dead the first time. We made damned sure. No pulse, no breath, full of stab wounds—not really a lot of room for doubt."
Lilias had her arms wrapped around herself as if she were chilled. "Maybe the Wardens imprisoned Corypheus because he can't be killed." She raised frightened blue eyes. "Alistair? What have I let loose?"
He knelt next to her, taking her hands in his. "In my book, 'brutally murdered' doesn't equal 'let loose upon the world'. You couldn't have known."
"Known what?"
"That his life force passes to the next thing with the Blight—darkspawn or Grey Warden."
Her eyes widened. "So if there hadn't been a Grey Warden with them, you could have been the one?"
He hadn't thought of that, and he didn't like the idea at all. But he imagined that was what Corypheus had wanted the Grey Wardens along for in the first place. He put his arms around Lilias and held her close. "No. I wouldn't have been." It was a tiny little white lie; he hoped he could be forgiven for it.
Morrigan snorted and rolled her eyes, but she didn't contradict him, for a wonder.
"Fine, then," Thule said. "We don't have time to find a way to stop him right now; we have to get ahead of his troops and get to that Well."
"'Tis strange," Morrigan said. "Archdemons possess the same ability, and Grey Wardens are still able to slay them."
"Corypheus isn't an Archdemon," Alistair said. He got to his feet, still holding tightly to Lilias's hands as he helped her up as well.
Varric shook his head. "That must be why they locked him away, then, because they knew what he could do. Bastards."
Alistair considered taking offense—but, after all, the Grey Wardens hadn't been able to hold Corypheus. They'd lost their hold on him and brought all this on the world. In the meantime, it seemed their task in this temple wasn't exactly the same as they had been told. He glared at Morrigan, an expression so familiar it practically settled on his face on its own. "You said Corypheus was after an eluvian, but now we hear about some 'Well of Sorrows'. You want to clarify?"
"I … am uncertain of what he referred to."
She was lying. He knew she was lying because she hadn't bristled at his tone or insulted him, and because he had seen her reaction when the Well was mentioned.
Thule looked up at her in surprise. "You don't know? You said you knew what he was looking for! That's why we're here!"
Solas snorted. "Confidence can carry one only so far, it seems."
"What do you know about the Well, Solas?"
"Only that it holds great power, and should not be interfered with."
"Nicely non-specific," Alistair muttered under his breath. All this secrecy and mysticism and "great power" all over the place set his teeth on edge.
"I … may have suspected," Morrigan admitted reluctantly. "I did not know for certain."
"You made a damned good show of it anyway."
She shrugged.
Thule glared at her, and she threw up her hands. "Fine! I was wrong. Does that please you?"
"Hardly," he snapped.
"It does not matter! Whatever the Well of Sorrows might be, Corypheus seeks it, and thus you must keep it from his grasp."
Thule shook his head. "When we get back to Skyhold, we're going to have a talk about this, Morrigan."
"I have no doubt, Inquisitor." A smile was on her face, that same maddening superior smile that Alistair had spent a solid decade hating.