Thank you for reading!
They moved on further into the prison. It was well-built, Hawke had to give the Grey Wardens—or the dwarves, or whoever had built this thing—that. It was also fairly evident that no one but darkspawn had been here in a long time. Dust was everywhere, the floors were missing tiles, there were random piles of rubble in the corners.
"You know," Anders said cheerfully, nearly tripping on a loose tile and skipping until he caught his balance again, "one good thing about being trapped in an ancient underground prison—not a lot of Templars."
"Well, there weren't until you said that," Bethany snapped. "No doubt a whole phalanx will show up now."
He grinned, a rarity for him these days, looking around. "I could be quite comfortable here, actually. Clean the taint off the floor, maybe hang a few pictures … It might even be a step up from Darktown."
Hawke wished he wasn't joking. Leaving Anders in a forgotten prison in the middle of the desert would solve quite a few problems for a lot of people—her amongst them. She really didn't look forward to taking him back to Kirkwall. "A new base of operations for Kirkwall's mage underground," she suggested.
"It's got potential …"
Anders walked on, hands in his pockets, whistling. Hawke and Varric exchanged looks and followed him.
"Sister."
Hawke looked back to see Bethany on her knees in a pile of rubble, flipping the fragile pages of an ancient book. Leaning over her shoulder, she tried to decipher the writing, but couldn't. "What am I looking at?"
Bethany traced her finger across the lines of writing, reading it out loud. "'Some darkspawn could think and speak and commanded portions of the horde … A few could wield magic with the skill of a Tevinter magister, and the Wardens greatly feared them. … It was here … that Warden Sashamiri set her trap to capture and study the greatest of these creatures, the one whom they called Corypheus.'"
"Corypheus is a talking darkspawn magister?"Hawke sighed heavily. "Of course he is."
"Only the best for you, Hawke," Varric said.
"Yes. Lucky me. Well, won't that be fun to kill."
"You speak as though killing him is our only option," Anders said from the doorway into the next room.
"He's a darkspawn. Killing him is our only option."
"Well, you may want to take a look at this, then." He gestured ahead of him.
Hawke and the others joined him. On a bridge or catwalk thing across the chasm below them, they saw what looked at first like a man, wearing ancient armor. At closer look, he appeared more like a ghoul. Hawke reached for her sword, but Anders held her arm.
"Wait. He may not be what you think."
"A darkspawn?"
" Exactly."
Hawke stayed her hand, moving forward even as the strange man hobbled toward her. "The key!" he cried. "Did they find it, the dwarves? I heard them. Looking … digging …"
"I came to find Corypheus."
He recoiled at the name. "Do not say his name! He will hear you; he will wake!"
"Well, let's not do that," Varric muttered. "By all means, let's let sleeping darkspawn lie."
Looking at Hawke suspiciously, the ghoul asked, "How do you bring the key here?"
She drew the sword. "You mean this? How is this a key?" That would explain the strange way the sword felt, the way it had seemed to be calling to her.
"Magic. Old magic. Magic from the blood. It made the seals—it can destroy them. With blood … the blood of the Hawke." He peered at her curiously. "Are you the Hawke?"
"So it would appear."
He frowned. "I smell no magic on you." Looking past her to Bethany, he sniffed. "I smell magic on you, but you do not hold the key."
"Maybe it takes both of us," Bethany suggested.
The ghoul was looking at Hawke and didn't appear to have heard Bethany. "You hold the key," he said, more to himself than to anyone else. "The key to his death. Yes! I can show you the way out."
"Great. Let's get a move on, then." Varric was more than ready to get away from this creepy not-quite-a-man-anymore and get on his way back to civilization, talking darkspawn magister or no talking darkspawn magister.
"Who are you?" Anders asked, pushing himself forward.
The ghoul sniffed at him, too. "Magic. Magic and Warden. Hmph. You ask me? I am the one who belongs here, not you. You are no darkspawn."
Anders nodded, looking sorrowful. "But you are … or on your way there. He was a Warden," he added to the others. "A guardian against the Blight. Only they don't tell you the price, not until after."
"This is the price? Becoming … whatever that is?"
"The taint. It's inside us. Eventually, it takes us."
"So that's your future, then?" Bethany asked.
"We're supposed to go into the Deep Roads. Fight darkspawn and die there. But he was … forgotten here. Left here to rot. Filthy Wardens!" Anders' fist clenched and the familiar blue light came to his eyes.
The ghoul paid no attention to them. He was looking at Hawke. "I can show you the way out. Follow me. Down and in. Down and in."
"Down and in sounds like the way to get trapped here forever like this poor bastard," Varric muttered. "Hardly the way out. And I don't trust him or the half a brain cell he's got left."
"He probably knows this place like the back of his hand. Likely it's the only thing he still does know," Hawke said. "And if getting out of here was going to be straightforward, they wouldn't have bothered to put up a magical barrier to keep us in. I'm no more fond of taking the advice of tainted crazy people than the next person …" She glanced back at Anders and then down at Varric and a faint smile crossed her face. "But sometimes apparently it's necessary."
He saw her point, and returned the smile. "I suppose I can't argue with that."
"Come!" The ghoul had stopped halfway across the bridge, turning to wait for them to catch up. "The seals hold us in. Anything comes in, nothing ever leaves. Not without the key. You must use it. On the seals. Only then they open. Only for the Hawke. Only way out is down and through the heart."
Hawke sighed. "Only way out is down. Well, isn't that the story of my life." She followed the ghoul, and the others followed her.