SERENA
Muffled voices pierce through a dissipating fogginess.
" . . . Anders. Is he alright?" Hawke calls out, somewhere off to my left.
I blink and look up at his clearing form. He's kneeling beside me, his brow furrowed into a tight, stern scowl, fixated on something across from us. Fenris crouches by my other side, two firm fingers pressed hard against my left wrist. His green eyes bore into mine as if analyzing my every breath and move.
My head throbs as if a genlock just smashed it with a club. The stinging pain reverberates in crashing waves along the base of my skull. One torrent after another.
"I-I'm fine," Anders pants from the same direction as Hawke's gaze. "Serena, how . . . how is she?"
"I believe she's coming to." Hawke swipes a gentle hand across my face, brushing some stray hairs out of my eyes.
The shifting strands tickle the top of my cheeks, freeing me from my weary, confused daze. "What . . . happened?" I groan, and both Hawke and Fenris help me sit up. Bethany and Varric squat beside Anders a few feet in front of me.
"I think we were hoping you'd tell us that," Hawke teases with a widening grin.
I squint up at him, still struggling to make sense of everything around me.
"Magic, that's what happened," Bethany says. She regards me as though I'm an inexplicable marvel that's just manifested out of a children's fable. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but you did something to manipulate the Veil. I could feel the energy at the time of the blast."
"The Veil?" My eyes widen in shock. "Is it . . . is it safe now? I didn't tear it or anything?"
"No, it seems fine." She shakes her head. "I can't sense any lingering damage."
I gulp.
Well, that's definitely . . . new. I didn't even intend to use magic. But it's never done that!
Anders crawls closer to us from his spot on the ground. Before he can get too close, though, Fenris stands up and forces his way between us, a forbidding wall of unwavering strength.
But that doesn't stop Anders.
He glares up at Fenris and peers around his legs at me. "Serena, thank you. And I'm so sorry." He droops his head down low. "I guess what they told us was right . . . We never can leave the wardens . . . I hope I can hold against him now—against them both."
"You had better," Fenris snarks with more spite than usual.
I roll my eyes at their pointless, boyish standoff.
"Would you two quit it?" I snap. I grasp onto Hawke's shoulder and use it to bolster myself to my feet. "Let's keep moving. There's not much longer yet."
I can feel it.
Whatever's calling out to us, it's close. And if we're going to survive what might await us at the finish line, we need to hurry, fast. Before my magic works up again. Or worse: I fall under the Call's control next.
We've broken the second to final seal, and not a moment after passing the room's exit does the entire tower start to shake.
Larius hobbles back to us as soon as it stops, his murky, grey eyes glimpsing around the entire area in a panic, in fear. "He feels the seals weaken," he mutters. "He knows you are close. You must be ready."
He jolts and scowls over his dirty, right pauldron.
"What's that? Who? No . . . no! They're here!" he gasps.
"Oh, who is it this time?" Hawke grouses, crossing his arms. "Puddles the turtle? The holy cheesewheel of Andraste?" Exhaustion and frustration coat his every word and action, clearly at his wits end.
"The Wardens! They listen to Corypheus. They want to bring him the light," Larius says. "Stop them. You must stop them!"
The former warden-commander scurries into hiding in a nearby ruin's shadow. At the same time, a group of four Grey Wardens exit the escape tower. They're dressed in the Wardens unmistakable blue and grey armor regalia, but they're all clean, essentially spotless. And they appear free of the taint's corruption as well, at least on the surface.
A woman with a short, brown ponytail and staff leads the group. "Something's happening. The prison's breaking down," she says. "But it's stood up to tunneling before. What can—"
Her and her group halt upon seeing us.
"You! You have the key!" She points at Hawke's new 'sword'. "And you've come through the seals! But how?" She takes a hard look at Hawke, as if recognizing him for the first time. "Champion? Are you the one? The same Hawke, child of Malcolm?"
All of us stiffen a bit.
I don't like that familiar tone of enthusiasm in her voice . . . Nope. Not one bit.
Janeka straightens herself, perhaps sensing our increased guard. "The carta said they were close," she murmurs. "You must be him. I am Janeka. I lead this unit of Grey Wardens." She motions with one hand to the three men gathered behind her. None of whom I recognize, but that's hardly a surprise, considering we're all the way out in the Free Marches. It is a welcome discovery, however, offering one less thing to worry about.
"Why are the Wardens interested in our father?" Bethany asks.
A good question, which I had myself, especially if they did send the carta.
Janeka's eyebrows shoot up. "Then you don't know? Without Malcolm, this prison would have fallen thirty years ago!"
Well, the coincidences never cease . . .
Hawke lets out an exasperated huff. "Let me guess," he sneers. "That has something to do with this fancy thing?" He lifts the 'key' in his hand.
Janeka's lips form a thin line. "The Grey Wardens built this prison to contain one of the most powerful darkspawn we've ever encountered," she says, pacing away from us. "But even the best magic fades. The Wardens need to reinforce the seals. This requires the blood of a mage untainted by . . . warden training. The last to perform the ritual was your father."
Janeka turns to face us again.
"My father was a blood mage?" Hawke's voice rises an octave.
Janeka's expression darkens. A foul determination now inhabits its depths. The likes of which I've seen far too many times, from far too desperate people. "To avert the blights, forbidden magics are sometimes necessary . . ." she trails off.
"That's an argument we have to guard against. My father knew that." Bethany glares at Janeka.
"Any mage worth their salt should know that," I scoff. "Particularly Grey Wardens."
Janeka frowns at both of us. "He did not bind the demons, if that is your concern. That was done in another era, before the chantry's laws."
"But it doesn't change the fact that blood magic was still necessary to produce these seals in the first place! And whatever the reasoning behind their creation, for you to seek out Hawke blood now, it can't be good. I'm liking this place less and less," I grumble the last part under my breath.
Hawke sighs. "Why do my family stories never involve embarrassing vacations in Antiva?"
I shrug. "Not enough excitement for you lot, I guess."
Hawke and Bethany both grin at me.
Janeka ignores us and steps closer to Hawke. "We need your help, Hawke," she implores him. "I have done extensive research on this darkspawn, and I believe the original wardens were wrong. He isn't a threat to humanity—he's our greatest opportunity. A darkspawn who can talk, feel, reason. . ."
A frigid chill envelops me, as if I've been buried in an avalanche.
Talk? Feel? Reason?
No. It can't be . . .
An image of the Architect flashes through my head, reminding me of our fateful encounter in the Dragonbone Wastes, not so long ago.
"Corypheus cares nothing for blights. He used you!" Larius races out of hiding, before I can unravel at the stupid woman myself.
"The warden-commander!" one of the older warden's gasps in recognition.
Janeka glowers at Larius, then at her gawking comrades. "Don't listen to this . . . creature. He's half darkspawn himself! I know how to harness Corypheus, use his magic to end the blights!"
"You know nothing, shem! Least of all about this!" I yell, unable to bite my tongue any longer, lest I chomp all the way through. "Until you have looked straight into the eyes of one of these things, you could never understand! Darkspawn aren't to be trusted!"
"And how would you know more than us, knife-ear?" Janeka barks back. "We are Grey Wardens!"
"As am I, dah'len. Or have your senses dimmed along with that reasoning of yours?"
All the wardens expressions fall. Their eyes widen with noticeable alarm, perhaps at last sensing the taint residing in me and Anders.
"You may try to dismiss one Grey Warden Commander here," I step closer to her. "But you would be wise not to disregard two. . . I did not slay one archdemon to end a blight, just for you to potentially summon forth another!"
The elder warden that recognized Larius blinks wildly. "You-you are the Hero of Ferelden?" he sputters. "That's impossible!"
"It's the truth." Anders joins me at my side. "And she's right. You can't trust darkspawn to honor any deal. We learned what these intelligent ones are capable of at Amaranthine!"
"Corypheus is too powerful," Larius agrees. "Please. You must understand!"
A seething fury simmers in Janeka's tightening gaze—her focus directed straight at me. "With all due respect, I have done my research, Commander," she growls with unbending determination. "I have a spell that can control Corypheus, bind him to my will. He will be a new, important weapon in the war on the blights. No more, no less!"
"Until when?" I stride even closer to her, until we're only a breath's width apart. "For how long would this spell of yours hold? And who's to say it will work at all? What if you succumb to his Call first? What then?"
"She's right," Hawke draws all of our attention back onto him, just before we might come to blows. "Corypheus may be as great a threat as the next blight. We can't risk freeing him." He nods at both me and Anders, a kind, conceding smile gracing the corners of his lips.
His agreement makes my spirit soar. All my earlier tension vanishes in an instant. The fight in me: gone. Free and without worry.
Janeka clicks her tongue. "We'll find a way to do this with or without you, Hawke. It's the only way!"
With quick use of her magic, Janeka jumps back and casts a wall of flames between us, blocking us from pursuing her and the other Grey Wardens, as they retreat back into the tower.
"With me!" Larius waves to our hampered group. "We will beat them to the seal!"
"We better!" I snap, running after him into another entrance that leads into the tower. "Otherwise, I'll kill her myself!"
"I'm going to kill her," I murmur as we make our way up another slanted staircase to the top of the escape tower.
The full moon beams overhead, casting an ominous, blue glow across the ruined columns and steps that guide our path.
"Wouldn't it be frowned upon to outright kill a fellow member of your order?" Hawke asks, glancing back to quirk an eyebrow at me.
I glare up at him. "Hawke, you do realize she's insane, right? She not only ignored two direct orders, from her superiors, on a subject she knows little to nothing about, she's also the one who sent the carta after you and Bethany. She admitted to it and everything! The Grey Wardens would be better off without a wayward extremist like her."
And an intelligent one at that. She got us this far after all, and prepared plenty of traps.
We ascend the final step of the staircase to come across an otherworldly view: the top of the tower and the final seal.
Gold light flows in and out of an unenclosed rotunda, pooling at its domed center like a massive, magic lake, connected to many rivers. Small patios adorn the rotunda's every side, the light swirling through their connecting grand archways and resident griffin statues alike. The stunning visage a perfect filler to the otherwise dreary surrounding chasm and surrounding barren mountainsides.
"And besides, what part of freeing a monster from this prison seems like a good idea?" I point at the shining seal, oozing with hair-raising, magical power. Power I can even feel from this distance.
"Twinkle Toes has a valid point there, Hawke," Varric speaks up.
"You may be right," he grumbles, taking in the sight.
"Hurry. Hurry," Larius shouts, dashing ahead of us, onto the connecting bridge. "They must not reach the seal first!"
We all follow after him in a rush. As we sprint across the final stretch of bridge, Janeka emerges from behind the rotunda's main arch. "You're too late, Larius," she says, and our group grinds to a halt. "Hand over Hawke, and I'll give you a quick death."
"Hawke has made his choice. The right one," Larius retorts back.
"The right choice . . . or the only choice?" Janeka smirks at us. "Malcolm Hawke was not allowed to disagree."
Wait.
What?
"It is the past. It doesn't matter!" Larius responds a bit too quickly.
"Larius? What does Janeka mean by 'not allowed'?" Hawke pivots toward the former Warden-Commander.
Larius lowers his head. "How does she know this?" he mutters. "Alec, did you tell her?" He glares at the older warden that acknowledged him earlier. Receiving no answer, he turns away and slumps into himself. "Malcolm Hawke was reluctant . . . had to be . . . persuaded. I was Warden Commander. It was my duty! I delivered an ultimatum—help us, or you'll never see her again."
My gut sinks.
"You threatened Father?" Bethany gasps.
Hawke closes in on Larius, looking poised to grab him by the collar and throttle him. "You were going to kill my mother!"
"No, never!" He shrinks away. "He came with us. I never had to decide her fate! She was never told about what passed between Malcolm and me."
"That doesn't make it better," Bethany says.
And I'm afraid I've got to agree. A poor choice, and a dangerous one. Especially now.
"You see, Hawke?" Janeka interjects, sounding smugger than an Orlesian noble, who's just won The Game. "How can you trust anything Larius says?"
Hawke pauses and glares at both Janeka and Larius. There's a moment of silence exchanged between the three of them. And for a second, I fear Hawke might change his mind and join Janeka out of revenge.
But Hawke wouldn't do that.
No. He wouldn't ignore Anders and my advice like that.
He wouldn't, for the future.
Would he?
The doubt spirals within me. The fear weighing heavy, all the way into the soles of my boots, knowing it's taken less to change men.
"Larius's threats were reprehensible," Hawke mutters at long last, the lowness of his eeriely calm tone hinting at a barely controlled rage within. "But he's still right about Corypheus."
The heaviness lifts.
My heart soars.
Janeka's crinkles her nose. "You can come willingly or not, Hawke." She raises her staff. "I just need your blood!"
