HAWKE

"You see what I'm seeing?" Varric asks, eyes wide.

"Is that . . . lyrium?" I squint at the shining artifact, lying on the altar before us. The stone idol, made up of humanoid figures with horns, appears to be covered in red, glowing, lyrium crystals, similar to the vines that coated the outer corridors earlier.

"It's definitely magic," Anders hums. "And not the good kind."

Varric tilts his head and furrows his brow. "Doesn't look like any kind of lyrium I've ever seen."

Footsteps echo behind us from the chamber's entryway down below.

Varric turns around, and we all catch a glance of his brother, Bartrand, entering the room. "Look at this, Bartrand," Varric calls out to him. "An idol made out of pure lyrium, I think. Could be worth a fortune!"

Bartrand whistles once. "You could be right," he mutters. "Excellent find."

I fixate back on the glowing idol.

Although my nerves insist we should leave it be, I reach for the artifact. A quick surge of electricity zaps through my fingertips at its touch, before vanishing without a trace. As if warning me. Advising me of a hidden, ancient power lying within. One I couldn't possibly try to control or understand.

With an uncertain reluctance, I toss it over to Varric—the purpose of our mission repeating in my head. Along with images of Bethany and Mother, waiting for us back in Kirkwall. And the threat of templars and thugs waiting on the horizon.

Varric catches the idol and admires it. "Not bad," he says, twisting the idol in his hand. "We'll take a look around. See if there's anything further in."

With that, Varric throws the idol down to Bartrand. Batrand catches it and turns to walk away.

We pivot to face the next door beside us. Shortly afterward, the sound of metal brushing against tile floor resonates from the entryway. I look back and see Bartrand shutting the main door behind him. My heart drops. "The door!" I shout. My feet move on their own.

The lot of us rush down the steps, desperate to reach it before it closes. I slide down the banister to hasten my sprint. But right when Varric and I reach the door, it slams shut, right in our faces.

Varric immediately bangs on it with his fists. "Bartrand, it shut behind you!" he shouts, and we both press our ears against the door.

Faint chuckling can be heard past the metal. "You always did notice everything, Varric," Bartrand's muffled voice responds.

Varric and I both look at each other. Intense dread pools in the pit of my stomach.

"Are you joking?" Varric scowls. "You're going to screw over your own brother for a lousy idol?"

"It's not just the idol," Bartand shouts. "The location of this thaig alone is worth a fortune. And I'm not splitting that three ways . . . Sorry, brother."

Bartrand's footsteps disappear down the outside corridor. Leaving us alone. Abandoned.

"Bartrand?" Varric calls out. He pounds his fist against the door again. "Bartrand!"

Silence.

Not even a final evil laugh or retort.

Gritting his teeth, Varric shakes with uncontainable anger. "Oh, I swear I'm going to find that son of a bitch—sorry mother—and I will kill him!" he yells, turning around, and clenching his two fists together.

Serena takes a few steps back and shakes her head. "No. No!" she shouts.

Everyone fixates on her.

Even from a few feet away, I can see her trembling.

"This-This can't be happening," she whispers. "No . . . Let me out. Let me out!"

Her knees buckle, and she collapses to the ground, her scythe clamoring along with her. She curls up into herself, her small hands flat on her cheeks, her eyes shut tight as if trying her best to disappear.

Anders immediately rushes to her side and kneels in front of her, his hands grasping firmly onto both of her shoulder-guards. "Serena. Serena! Calm down," Anders snaps, shaking her. "Look at me. Look. At. Me!"

She finally makes eye contact with him, tears forming in her usually crystal-clear gaze.

He pushes a loose strand of her dark hair behind one pointed ear. "It's okay," he whispers soothingly, as if comforting a distressed child. "We're going to find a way out of here. We're going to be alright. But please, you have to calm down."

Serena's eyebrows crease. A hateful glare overtakes her expression, replacing her earlier fear. "Anders, I don't care if you have to blast the whole bloody place apart. Get me out of here. Now!" she snarls, lowering her hands to her lap.

Anders shakes his head. "I would if I could, but if I did, we'd risk a cave in. We'll find another way out. Just give us some time."

"We don't have time!" she hollers. "Either you blast the door down or I will!"

A faint flicker of light glimmers in her hand as she says this. But just as quickly as it appears, it vanishes, as Anders smacks her hard across the cheek.

"I'm sorry I had to do that," he says, standing up straight. "But getting emotional will get us nowhere. You of all people should know this. You have to keep yourself together."

Serena's expression softens. Slowly, she rises back onto her feet, one hand gripping tight onto her scythe, while the other cups her reddened cheek.

"Are you back to your senses now?" Anders asks with a calmness I almost envy. Maker knows I couldn't manage it.

Serena scowls at him. Then, faster than I can blink, she pulls back and punches him square in the jaw. Anders topples over and skids hard across the tile floor. "Yes, thank you," she snarls, her steady composure back in full swing—literally. "But Anders, it'd be wise of you to never try to slap me like that again. Understood?"

Anders rubs his jaw. "Ow. Yes! But I don't think I rightfully deserved that." He grimaces.

"For slapping a lady?" She crosses her arms. "Yes. Yes, you did. You should be thankful. If I'd used my full strength, that would've hurt a lot worse. You of all people should know that. Consider it your reward."

Anders grumbles something under his breath. More than likely less-than-ideal quips.

"Twinkle Toes, what do the elves feed you for breakfast?" Varric asks, standing stiff.

Serena purses her lips. "Nothing worse than what we'll have to eat if we stay stuck down here like your ancestors."

She turns around to face the other door in the room.

Varric sighs. "Let's hope there's a way out of here."


SERENA

The sound of rocks smashing against the thaig's tile floor echoes across the hall as the last of our newest opponents fall to our blades. Pieces of the mysterious stone-based creatures lie scattered at our feet, the flames that once burned so brightly within their cores blazing no more.

Varric's the first to lower his weapon out of our group. "Bloody flames, what were those things?" he asks.

"I don't know," I tap one the nearby skulls with my foot. "Nothing I've ever seen before."

Nor do I want to see again.

Hawke furrows his brow. He walks past the rest of us, his greatsword resting atop his bloody, right shoulder. "Come on. Let's keep moving," he says.

We continue onward, pushing through hallway after hallway. But our leisurely stroll never lasts more than few minutes before more shades or bizarre stone creatures attack us again.

After disposing perhaps the sixth batch of things, we enter a room with a large, stone overpass. Primeval columns covered in red lyrium vines line both sides of the ancient bridge. An abundance of shades and more rock creatures await us at its entrance.

Fantastic.

A flurry of Bianca's bolts rain down from the sky at that instant, striking our foes, one after another.

Varric's clearly growing tired of this. And I'm pretty sure the rest of us are on the same page.

By the time his fire slows, Anders engulfs most of the remaining beasts in flames. His magic dissipates, then the rest of us dash forward to allow our main mage and archer to rest.

The clashing of metal on rock, and the shrieks of wounded shades, echo in my ears. Until there's only one rock-based creature left.

Hawke and I rush at the beast, determined to strike it down, together. We embed our blades deep into its glowing core, then step back, and watch as the rocks crumble to the floor.

We both turn to face the others with a loud sigh. But then I hear something shake behind us. Hawke and I both spin around and recoil as the rocks rise back up, forming yet another rock creature with renewed force. "Enough!" a deep voice demands as the revived monster glares down at us. "You have proven your mettle. I would not see these creatures harmed without need."

"I'd say being attacked on sight gives us plenty of need," Hawke gives the creature an agitated scowl.

I nod and stand my ground, both my body and scythe prepared to leap forward and strike, if needed. Something about this newly formed creature puts me more on edge than before. It's as if the Creators are crying out to me, yelling at me to run, but their ancient tongue prevents me from understanding.

"They will not assault you further–not without my permission," the creature explains.

Hawke and I both exchange a cautious look.

It doesn't want to fight? Then . . .

The two of us hesitantly lower our weapons, and the others follow suit.

"What are these things?" Varric asks, eyeing the creature closely. "They seem like rock wraiths, but—"

"They hunger . . . " the creature interrupts. "The profane have lingered in this place for ages beyond memory, feeding on the magic stones until the need is all they know."

"They eat . . . the lyrium?" Hawke asks, quirking an eyebrow. "Sounds like a healthy diet."

I smile and look down at the ground.

If there weren't a bizarre creature looming over both of us, I'd pat him on the back. Sarcastic comments like this are exactly why we're friends. Our seriousness can only last for so long together, even in the most dire of circumstances.

"I am not as they are," the being continues. "I am . . . a visitor."

My body twitches. "In other words: a demon here to feed," I snarl, my hands lifting my scythe up again.

That explains why I had these feelings earlier. I should've known better! I must be getting rusty.

"I would not see my feast end," the demon continues, directing its attention now solely on Hawke. "I sense your desire. You seek to leave this place, but you will need my aid to do so."

"Don't do it," Anders says. "Demons will trip you up every time."

"Agreed," I nod. "Don't be foolish."

"What are our options?" Varric asks.

Hawke frowns and glares at the demon. "Regardless of our options, I'm not becoming that thing's next meal." He lifts up his weapon.

"Most unwise," the demon says.

And that's the last thing he utters before I leap forward and bury my scythe's blade straight into its flaming chest cavity. The profane jolts, and with a wild shake, collapses at my feet. Again. Its connection with our world severed in an instant. Just as it should be.

"And who was unwise?" I huff and glance back at the others.

About twenty more shades, profane, and abominations rise up behind them. All of which appear to be closing in, similar to a rabid pack of mabari.

"Ah, more company," I sigh. "Sometimes I hate having visitors."


HAWKE

"What is this place?" my voice echoes off the new chamber walls.

We've entered a large, open room in the thaig now. Four spiky rocks tower together at its center.

"This is the vault," Varric says. "The dwarves would've brought their—"

Our group halts.

The sound of rocks moving echo behind us. We all whirl around to see a gigantic profane forming, perhaps three times larger than the rest, blocking off the entirety of the entrance. A red flame burns at its core. It hovers over us, its skull's empty eyes boring deep into our own.

"Oh. That can't be good," Varric murmurs.

"To arms!" I yell, and then Fenris, Serena, and I charge at the creature with our weapons raised. The three of us cut through the rock, taking care to dodge the slow blows the profane makes. Varric and Anders meanwhile shoot bolts and magic at it from a distance.

When we appear to be making at least some progress, the profane abruptly starts to shake.

We all step back.

"What's it doing?" Varric asks, lowering Bianca slightly.

Serena's eyes remain fixated on the creature. "It's . . . charging . . . ?"

Her eyes widen.

She grabs hold of my arm and pulls me off to the side with all her might. "Take cover!" she shouts, tugging me behind one of the four large standing stones.

Varric and Anders do the same, while Fenris slides behind another. As soon as we're all covered, a red light bursts out of the profane, scorching the ground anywhere that didn't provide adequate coverage.

Serena grasps tightly onto my arm as the flames pass. The burning intense, making my eyes water. It stops, and she peeks around the corner. "Varric! Anders! Now!" she yells.

The two jump out and send a flurry of powerful attacks at the creature, striking it one blow after another.

Serena drops her scythe beside her while it's distracted, reaches for her bow, and draws an arrow.

It's the first time I've ever seen her wield a bow, but her balanced and confident stance shows me she's had plenty of practice.

"Na melana sahlin," she growls in her ancient elven tongue. She then releases her clutch, and the arrow shatters against the profane's skull. The headless monster wavers. "Hawke!" She turns toward me, and I immediately leap forward, out into the open, and jump high into the air. I strike through the profane's chest cavity with my sword, putting all of my strength into the swing. A loud rumble vibrates through the air. Reverberating through my arms and hands. My feet hit the ground, and the rocks that formed the profane collapse in front of me, a cloud of thick dust rising off the chamber floor.

I face the others with a deep breath, my sword resting nicely on my shoulder.

Varric steps forward and kicks a piece of the profane's remains, perhaps to test if it's really dead or not, or just another trap. I can't help but do the same. Not after that demon incident. Thankfully, it appears to be dead this time. Really dead.

The two of us then look at each other, shrug, and continue forward like before. Eager to get away. To put this whole mess behind us.

"The rock wraiths are supposed to be Dwarven legends," Varric grumbles, the others following behind. "They're not even supposed to be real!"

"Looked pretty real to me," I retort.

"Felt real, too," Serena chimes in.

I glance back at her. Anders is walking beside her, casting a healing spell on her right arm. She must've gotten scratched up during the battle earlier on. Fenris walks on her other side, watching the mage's movements silently, with noticeable distrust.

"I suppose it doesn't matter." Varric stops moving, recapturing my attention. "Look at what it was guarding!"

I halt and return my gaze to the path ahead. And, oh boy, do I understand what he means.

What now lies before us is a massive nook, storing mountains of gold coins and other assorted treasure. But the best part of it yet: off to the side resides a single door. I run up and try to open it, even pulling on it with my full weight, while pushing my foot against the wall. But it's no use. It won't budge. It's locked tight.

Serena steps forward next and pulls out a lockpick from her armor. She twists and turns the thing in the lock, but after a long minute of grumbled cursing, she looks up at me and shakes her head also.

"Let's see if there's something that can help us get out of here." I sigh.

Our group walks into the treasury nook to start our search.

Serena and Varric move toward the chests, while the rest of us search the endless piles of coin.

I find gems, jewelry, and gold-encrusted artifacts of all shapes and size buried amongst my portion of the horde. Ones that could catch a fortune! Setting someone up for life!

But no key. Not even something that resembles one.

Frustration begins to build up inside of me.

Maker, with all this coin I could make a hundred keys, out of pure gold. Possibly even more! But I can't do that until I find a single, blighted key to open our path forward!

I swear, if I survive this, I'm going straight to the chantry to ask Grand Cleric Elthina why the Maker has such a sick sense of humor. If He's as divine as she says He is, He should really know his subject's limits.

"Hawke," Serena speaks up, interrupting my frustrated thoughts.

I flinch and look back at her. She's now standing directly behind me, her small hand outstretched to me.

A rusted bronze key rests in the center of her palm.

I pick it up, my heart now thumping loudly in my chest.

The others all gather around me. "A key?" Varric gasps. "A kind that opens doors, I hope."

Clenching onto the small piece of 'hope', I stride back to the door, my legs starting to feel jelly. I insert it into the lock, and after fidgeting with it for a long second, there's a quiet clink. My pulse races.

I gulp and tug on the handle. The door swings wide open, revealing a hilly path that appears to lead to the surface.

"Ah, good." Varric sighs, and I do the same. "Let's collect the best pieces we can carry out of here and then go," he insists.

I nod. I'm going to argue about that one bit. In fact, the sooner we get out of here, the better!

The dwarf walks over to the treasure piles again and starts sifting through the vast collection. He places only the most expensive looking artifacts in his coat's pockets, or in a sack he brought with him into the Deep Roads, for a moment such as this.

Serena and the others kneel down beside him and do the same.

Meanwhile, I walk further into the nook.

I search a pile I'd been rummaging through earlier, snatching jewels and other various trinkets that caught my eye. Either because I believe they'll collect the most gold or at least serve as a good gift for Bethany or Mother.

When my pockets are completely full, and it's impossible for me to stuff my pockets or bag anymore, I glance up to find only Serena still picking up treasure. Her pockets and sack are long over-filled with gold and other various trinkets. But she still doesn't stop. She keeps trying to add more, going so far as to rearrange pieces to make room for more. I walk up behind her and look down. "Isn't that a bit much?" I ask, unable to resist giving her an amused smirk.

She looks up at me and pauses. "Oh. Sorry. Old habit." She drops the mirror she was about to add next, but not without a noticeable frown.

I cross my arms and watch as she stands up, somehow lifting the bag with her, without real visible strain. Even though it must weigh a good forty or fifty pounds—if not more. I suppose this should be expected from our mysterious, little elf. But even so, it makes me wonder just how many times she's done this sort of thing, that she can treat such a haul like a mere sack of potatoes.

Serena appears to notice the staring and smiles.

I gulp. A slight heat burns the top of my cheeks. "Let's go," I insist and head to the door, avoiding eye contact with everyone, most so with Serena.

Serena giggles and rushes to join my side. "Lead the way, Hawke," she purrs, her voice tinged with knowing tease.

And with that, our group strolls down the new pathway in search of the surface, leaving the rest of the glittering treasure behind. For now.


Author's Note: And here is the conclusion to Act 1! Thank goodness. Thank you to all who have stuck with this story until now. It means a lot. (note for going forward: there will be no more scenes specifically from the game at this point, with few exceptions). Please leave a comment or review to let me know what you think! Happy reading! :)


Na melana sahlin: your time has come.