People ran. The Templars came back, bursting through the gates and down to the yard where Cullen stood, shell-shocked. It took one look at his men for him to move, to begin barking out orders. One hand gripped his sword, still in its scabbard. His skin was pallid. A vein twitched in his strained neck; his jaw tensed. He abandoned the woman before him. She couldn't turn her gaze from his retreating form. His armor gleamed, reflecting the repulsive green now painting the atmosphere around them.
Amaryllis's hands were numb, balled so tightly in the drifting snow that she had lost all feeling in them. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, gathering along the bottom of her quivering chin. Her legs would not move from beneath her, no matter how hard she willed them to. It was all so loud, the screaming. It was only when she felt a touch at her shoulder that she realized the most deafening cries of them all were coming from her.
"You must go to the chantry," spoke a thickly accented voice. The person's hand gripped her chin and turned Amaryllis's face towards them. She blinked her bleary eyes to see it was a woman with dark cropped hair and a thick scar upon her cheek. She recognized her, too. The angry woman. Though she didn't seem so angry now. Distress and concern laced her stark features. "It is not safe here. Stand and go to the chantry with the others. You will be safe there."
Amaryllis found words then, though they were stilted and broken with the force of her sobs. "My sister," one hand gripped the front of her cloak above her aching chest. The other took hold of the woman's wrist, helpless. "My sister is at the temple."
"Your sister?" She asked. "What is her name? I will search for her, do not worry."
Amaryllis shook her head, swallowing thickly against a rising whimper and dropped the woman's arm from her grasp. She would not let a stranger look for Ellana, not when she was more than capable. She had promised Mihris. She had promised herself. If anyone was to keep Ellana safe, it would be her. "No. I won't go to the chantry. I'll go with you."
The woman pulled her to her feet, lips set in a grim line of determination. "Can you fight? Do you have a weapon?"
"Yes," Amaryllis used her sleeve to wipe the swiftly cooling, clinging moisture from her cheeks. "I've got my staff."
The woman quickly took a step back as if in shock. "A mage. One of the rebels, then. You're not wearing circle robes."
Amaryllis would have sneered in another situation. As it was, she could barely hold herself back from running towards the summit before them, or stem the flow of her tears."I've been to no circle."
"An apostate," the woman took another step back. There was running around them in all directions, templars lining up before Cullen, who had forgotten her in his rush. A woman ran past, carrying her child closely against her chest as she cried. The girl's eyes were wide with terror. The gates of Haven began to close. "You —"
A man with a wide face seemed to appear out of thin air at the woman's side, mouth set in a deep frown. He was short, shorter than an elf even. A dwarf. Amaryllis recognized him immediately, and his name flowed to the tip of her tongue. Akasha had adored him. Varric.
"We don't have time for interrogation, Seeker. There's a hole in the sky."
"I'm aware of that, Varric." The woman grimaced in his direction.
"A staff, you said?" The dwarf turned to Amaryllis, smirking slightly. She wondered how he found the will to do so when the world seemed to be falling apart around them. "You could use the extra help," he said to the woman. She scowled.
"No, that's —" she threw her hands up and sighed. "You are right. We must move; Divine Justinia could be in grave danger. She could be—" she pursed her lips and pinched the bridge of her nose then took a deep, steadying breath, as if fighting back an emotional response. Her brows furrowed further with anger. She took a step away, turned her head, and spoke to them over her shoulder. "Come. Cullen is gathering troops. We will make our move soon."
Amaryllis looked to Varric and he shrugged, motioning for her to follow. She trailed after them, pushing a hand through her mussed hair where it had fallen from her braid, and took a look around the village. Time had obviously passed between the moment of the explosion, the tearing of the sky, and her own panic. There were no civilians to be seen, only a group of soldiers, another of templars, and a few frightened looking mages. The woman walked straight towards Cullen who stood before the soldiers looking grave. He turned to meet her and they immediately began whispering, motioning frantically toward the mountain range and the gaping green hole above them.
She watched them, anxiously, wringing her hands together until she felt her fingers might fall off, never turning her gaze from the Commander's stern expression. The short-haired woman gestured vaguely in her direction, and Cullen glanced at her for a moment, meeting Amaryllis's worried stare. He nodded minutely, a slight tilt of his head. She wondered how she was supposed to feel, knowing that the last fourteen years of her life had been spent in a video game that her sister had fawned over. She wondered how she was supposed to feel seeing the fictional man Akasha had claimed to be in love with standing before her.
Mostly, she felt numb.
Another woman joined them, a redhead looking absolutely murderous, and Amaryllis finally found herself able to turn away. Varric observed her with a small smile.
"What's your name, kid?" He asked.
"Amaryllis." Of clan Lavellan, she thought. Better to keep that to herself. She longed for the reassuring weight of her staff in her hand but she did not dare reach for it, not with the templars so close by.
"Don't mind the Seeker. Her bark is far worse than her bite."
"The Seeker?" She questioned, feeling unsteady in her sister's absence, longing for her reassurance. She wished she could pull the staff from her back, knowing it would give her a bit of peace. Not so close to the templars, though. Not with the way they were glaring at the mages beside her. "Does she have a name?"
"Right. Being royalty you'd expect her to have better manners," Varric chuckled, shaking his head. "Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, the Right Hand of the Divine. Fiery one, isn't she?"
"She's the Right Hand of the Divine, yet she wasn't at the Conclave?"
The dwarf shrugged. "Neither was the Left Hand, Leliana, the terrifying redhead beside her. "
Cassandra. Leliana. Cullen. Their names brought back memories of a time Amaryllis had tried for years to push past. Her heart had yet to recover from its initial shock and with each passing moment it beat harder, a bruising strike against her sternum, threatening to rip itself from her aching chest and run to the ends of Thedas. She didn't think she had it in her to chase it if it did.
All conversations came to a halt as Leliana stepped forward. Her expression seemed blank, under strict control, but Amaryllis could see hostility in the twitch of her brows. Leliana crossed her arms over her chest; her voice held barely restrained fire beneath it. "Prepare yourselves, for we do not know what lies ahead. If you wish to leave, do so now, before it is too late." Her eyes moved swiftly across the crowd, taking in their terrified expressions. Not a single soul dared to move under her scrutiny. "Good. Let's go."
Ascending the mountain path felt a lot like what Amaryllis had always imagined approaching a dragon's nest would be: terrifying. The further they climbed, the closer they came to the gaping hole in the sky, the more on edge she felt. Dread filled her every limb, fueled by the sharp, acidic scent like decay that permeated the air, growing thicker with each step she took. Amaryllis could taste the torn atmosphere on her tongue, bitter, like ash and vomit.
It didn't seem to bother anyone else as much as it did the mages. They grimaced and gagged, covering their noses with their sleeves, plugging their noses with shaking fingers. Amaryllis pulled a cloth from her bag and did the same.
From her right, Varric chuckled lowly. He had stayed behind the rest, eyeing the Seeker cautiously from time to time with a small frown. Amaryllis had caught Cassandra looking back a few times as if to make sure the dwarf was still there.
"Never been to Kirkwall before, have you?" He asked. "This stench has nothing on Lowtown in the summer; don't even get me started on Darktown. Nothing more foul than hot, rotting shit."
"I have been to Kirkwall," Amaryllis's voice sounded as pinched as her nostrils. Varric's amused smile widened. "But I don't recall it smelling this bad."
"Don't get me wrong, I love the place, even with all the murder and explosions. Wouldn't be home without it." He chuckled again, though with less enthusiasm, gaze fixed on a point ahead as if caught in a memory. Amaryllis glanced at him from time to time, taking in his stocky form, beardless chin, and caught herself blinking in confusion. She felt as if she had forgotten something, though she wasn't sure what it was.
A beardless dwarf, she mused. How peculiar. She looked again, squinting as if she were seeing him for the first time, and remembered. Merrill. Amaryllis felt guilty for a moment. She had almost forgotten the elf's request.
"I met someone in the city, someone you may know," Varric lifted a brow in question. "A particularly strange, yet friendly elf and her pirate friend."
"Ah, Daisy," he said with a grin. "I miss her every day. Rivaini, on the other hand…" he ran a hand down the crossbow at his side in a soothing manner. "Let's just say Bianca still has nightmares."
Amaryllis forgot her misery in the moment and smiled, a slight curl of lips reddened from hours of nervous biting. "Bianca? You've named your weapon 'Bianca?'"
"After the badass woman who made her," Varric defended, lifting the contraption for Amaryllis to get a better look. She hadn't seen enough crossbows in her life to know if the dwarf's was particularly remarkable, but his smug expression had her thinking that maybe it was. "I think it's a fitting title."
"I don't know, I think if I had a crossbow I'd name it something more suitable, like 'Killer."
"If you knew the woman behind the weapon, you'd know that the two are one and the same." He ran another worshipping hand down the crossbow, looking as if he were about to kiss it, then suddenly clipped it into place at his back. "Let me guess," he began again. One leather-clad hand scratched at the chest hair spilling from his open tunic. "Daisy wants me to send more letters."
"Yes, that's exactly what she asked me to tell you." Amaryllis gave up on holding the cloth to her nose, arms long grown tired from pressing it against her face, and attempted to get used to the stench surrounding them. She was sure she'd be smelling the fetor of decay on her skin for weeks.
"I'm working on it," he grumbled. "It's a little hard to even attempt writing one with a fuming, murderous woman hanging over your shoulder."
Amaryllis wasn't sure what to say to that. She didn't know anything about his situation and wasn't in much of a mood to pry like she usually would. She was saved from attempting further conversation by the sound of shouting ahead - Cassandra, it seemed - and the group took off in a run around a towering wall of jagged rock.
"Maker help us," Amaryllis heard in between collective gasps of shock. The running stopped, as suddenly as it had begun, just before a pulsing green cloud of terror, the same as the one in the sky above, shot lightning in all directions, piercing the ground beneath them. Where the lightning struck the snow turned black then bubbled as if boiling, causing those in range to fall flat on their backs, knocking the air from their lungs.
In the shadow beneath the angry cloud stood a tall man in a green vest and off-white tunic that fell between lean thighs, tensed at the ready. Amaryllis watched as he threw his staff before him and braced for impact as a demon with long, claw-tipped arms swiped at his dwindling barrier. What she found herself focusing on was not the hunched over mass of gray flesh attacking him, the screech of the towering, vine-like creature to his right, nor the sizzling viridescent spark above him, but the pointed tips of his elongated ears and the gleam of his bald head in the light of the sun.
Amaryllis recognized him immediately, though she could only remember the nickname her sister had muttered in resigned fondness. Egg-headed bastard had been Akasha's second favorite character. Amaryllis had never understood the appeal, until now. She had to admit that the elf was handsome in his own way: with high, angular cheekbones and full lips. The fact that the people beside her, and possibly herself, were all just coded lines in a video game was something she refused to acknowledge, for what was happening around her was real.
The tall elf noticed their approach and yelled out, "I need help!" The vine-like creature swiped at him, causing the man to break his protective stance and stumble back. Cullen, Leliana, and Cassandra, along with the rest of their group, stood frozen, seemingly unable to look away from the roiling pit in the air. Varric was the first to finally react.
"Well," his voice was rough. He ran a hand fondly over Bianca once more. "Let's get to it, then. Time to show these people what you're made of!"
He ran forward and cocked his crossbow, took a moment to aim, and shot a bolt straight into the beast's gaunt torso. It's answering screech caused goosebumps to raise along Amaryllis's arm, effectively breaking her of her own shock at seeing yet another reminder of her past. She didn't like where the memories seemed to be leading her.
A war, she knew, much larger than the current conflict between the mages and the templars. A battle that would reach the furthest ends of Thedas, unlike anything the people standing before her could ever comprehend. A need to protect burst through her, swallowing every last bit of the trepidation she had been feeling. These people had no idea what was in store for them, and though Amaryllis didn't remember a majority of it, she knew it was now her job to save those she could.
The human mage burst through the crowd, shoving Cassandra to the side and tore her staff from her back. As she called forth her mana she could feel the throbbing of the cloud more steadily, beating in rhythm with her own racing pulse. Its' magic crept along her skin like the many legs of a centipede. Amaryllis gritted her teeth and slammed her pole to the ground, throwing a barrier in front of their small army just in time to block an attack from a creature that had appeared from behind the rock wall. It floated in midair, shrouded in black, its skin wrinkled as if caught in a never-ending state of decomposition. When it reared its head back, Amaryllis saw its many cavernous mouths filled with serrated, razor-sharp teeth, and she screamed.
The noise finally broke Cullen of his own shock. With a roaring cry he pulled his greatsword free from its sheath and pointed it towards the sky. The crowd behind him followed suit.
"Attack!"
Cassandra brought her shield forward and bashed it against the creature's head, sending it flying into a mound of snow. It barely paused to right itself before it charged forward again. Culllen met its approach with a powerful swing of his sword, splitting its skull from its spine. The creature's many mouths shrieked, disintegrating into green ash that flew right back into the rift from which it had come.
Realization came to Amaryllis then. This hole, and the one in the sky towering over them, were tears in the Veil. The creatures attacking them were spirits, demons, that knew nothing but destruction. She recalled the game, the character Akasha had played: a woman who could control the rifts and close them with the shake of a fist. Amaryllis remembered the light that poured from the woman's palm, and she remembered her pained gasps, too. What Amaryllis couldn't remember was if the rifts could be closed without the mark, and who could possibly have it.
Something about the mere thought of the woman made her clench her jaw and lift her staff again, swinging it above her head in a wide arc before slamming it back down, shoving the end of the pole into the snow, calling forth Winter's Grasp. A sheet of ice encased the vine-like creature, freezing it in place. The bald elven mage swung his staff forward and slammed it into the demon's side. It shattered like glass dropped against stone, scattering across the ground. The pieces dissolved, same as before, and the rift seemed to reach out, absorbing its energy as if to create more of the same demons.
It wasn't long before the path was clear. Everyone stood panting for a moment, catching their breath, until the tear began rolling again. The viridescent cloud flashed then widened, crackling with the raw energy of the Fade. Amaryllis could feel it growing in strength, preparing to birth something far more powerful than what they had seen before. The bald elf walked closer to the breach, lifting his hand as if to touch it then abruptly pulled back with a deep frown.
"It is only going to grow in power," his voice was far more soothing than Amaryllis remembered. "There seems to be no way to close it. We must press on before we get caught in another wave."
"What do you know of this, and the breach in the sky?" Leliana approached, bow returned to its place at her back. Her tone was as sharp as the dagger secretly held at her side.
"Better question, who are you and why are you here?" Cassandra butted in, not even attempting to hide her hostility towards the stranger, holding her shield and sword before her as if to create a wall between them.
His serious expression showed no change. The elf bowed slightly towards the group and introduced himself. "I am Solas," he said. He pressed his stave into the snow to lean against languidly. Cassandra, Leliana, and a surprisingly quiet Cullen all tensed, but the elven mage made no other move. "I am here for the same reason I imagine you are. It's a bit hard to ignore a massive explosion and an enormous hole in the sky. How said hole came to be, however, I do not know."
"If I may ask," Cullen stepped forward warily. "What is a Dalish mage doing out here alone, anyway? The entirety of Thedas knew the Divine conclave was to meet today. You'll have to understand our suspicions."
"I am not Dalish," his lips pressed into a thin line, expression stern. "I understand that my appearance may have led you to suspect otherwise, but it is not so. I do not associate myself with those who choose to live a lie."
Amaryllis bit her tongue and tried not to take offense at the elf's words. It would not do well to bring attention to herself now, not with everyone so on edge.
Cullen and Cassandra exchanged a look of doubt while Leliana took hold of the conversation once more. "You didn't answer the question," Her hand still gripped the dagger tightly to her left side, hidden against her chainmail robe. "Exactly how is it that you have come to be here, right at this very moment?"
He turned to meet her guarded expression and finally seemed to drop his own. "Yes, I apologize, I realize how this must seem." He stood straight and pulled his staff from the ground to fasten it at his back, lifting his hands before him in a placating gesture. "I was asleep when it happened, walking in the Fade, reliving memories of the area. There was a battle with a dragon here, not so long ago."
Leliana moved then, shoulders squaring as she straightened. "You're a dreamer?" She asked.
"Tread carefully, Leliana," Cassandra said. "He is an apostate."
"I prefer the term 'hedge mage,'" Solas replied, smiling wryly. "But yes, I walk the Fade to learn the history of the areas I visit. I did not know of this conclave, and if I had, I would not have come here at this time; it was a mere coincidence that I was."
"And what did you see?" The redhead pressed on. Cassandra and Cullen shifted uncomfortably beside her. "When the explosion occurred, what did you see?"
He did not hesitate to answer. "Small tears occur naturally when magic weakens the Veil or when spirits cluster at an area that has seen many deaths, allowing spirits to enter the world physically. It is not entirely uncommon to see these openings." Solas turned his head up towards the sky; its light cast ethereal green shadows across his pallid cheeks. "But I have never seen anything like this. There was no breach, here, before. The spirits had been calm. Then, suddenly, the Fade twisted like a hand gathering fabric, and the hand pulled. The Veil ripped, and the spirits were no longer spirits. They were pulled through forcibly, and because of it, changed."
"So this thing," it was Cullen who spoke then, his expression one of barely concealed terror. He pointed with a shaking finger towards the tear. "Is an open doorway into the Fade?"
"I'm unsure of the exact details on our side, but essentially, yes."
"How?" Cassandra asked, lowering her sword and shield as Leliana slid her blade back into its sheath. "How could this have happened?"
"I do not know," Solas said. He looked to the three leaders with determination. "But I intend to find out."
"As do I." Leliana stepped forward, closer to the smaller rift that was still boiling as if preparing to split wider at any moment. It flashed, as if sensing her approach, shooting a bolt of viridescent lightning at the snow a foot in front of her, turning it black. "Let's go." She looked towards the elf. "You are welcome to join us, Solas. We could use your expertise."
He agreed with a nod, expression turned stone-like once more. Leliana took to the front and pressed on, Cassandra and Cullen close at her side. The rest of the group followed quietly after.
For a moment Amaryllis stood, watching their ascension, caught in what memories she had of the explosion, which was none. Her brow furrowed in frustration. I watched Akasha play for hours on end. There has to be something, she thought. There must be.
A tap at her arm disrupted her brooding. Amaryllis was surprised to see Varric beside her, a complete stranger he had only met just a few hours before, looking as concerned at her lack of movement as he did.
"You ready, or did you want to stay behind and have a heart-to-heart with a Wraith?" He asked, quirking a brow in amusement.
Any other time, she would have laughed. As it was, she could barely muster even the briefest of smiles, so she didn't. With a nod, Amaryllis took a step, then another, and found herself falling into place at the back of the group as they climbed their way to the Temple.
It was hours later, as the sky would have normally darkened, when they found it. Or rather, what was left of it.
Where the Temple of Andraste had once stood—intricately built into the mountain's caverns, its main sanctuary atop a towering hill of stone—was a crater surrounded by colossal, jagged rocks resembling broken glass under the wrath of an angry fist. Corpses burnt beyond recognition lined what was left of its halls, mouths open and teeth bared in pure agony. Its crumbling walls singed black save for the stark clean outlines of their bodies.
In the middle, floating above charred ground, stood another rift. Tendrils of green light swirled up towards the sky as if connected to the larger breach looming above them. The whooshing of the rift was the only sound to be heard, until Leliana stumbled forward.
"Justinia," her voice was but a whisper of what it had once been. "It cannot be."
Cassandra fell to her knees. Her shield clattered against the back of her armored legs. "No. No."
Cullen lifted a shaking fist to his scarred mouth, pressing it against himself. He squeezed his eyes shut as if willing away the image of the departed. His lips moved with a murmured prayer that could not be heard over the weeping of those around them.
Even Varric trembled where he stood, eyes wide in shock as he took in the destruction before him. "Well," his voice wavered, cracking on the last word he spoke. "Shit."
The ground fell out from beneath her. Amaryllis's hands scrambled for purchase against the soiled ground as she cast her pouring eyes towards the stained sky, illuminated by sickly green light. Her lips quivered. Her tongue tasted of the salt of her cascading tears. Her throat ached, ripping under the force of her screams.
"Ellana," she cried. "Please, no, Ellana!" Amaryllis's arms came to wrap around her torso tightly, gathering the fabric of her robes into her painful grip, pulling as if she could somehow hold her shattered heart together inside her frozen chest.