SERENA

"He stirs," Larius whispers as the last of the opposing Grey Wardens drops dead at our feet.

His wide eyes fixate on the final seal.

"Slay him now, before he wakes," he insists. "Before his strength comes! The key . . . It's not strong enough. Use your blood! Free him and slay him. You must hurry! Release him now!"

"Hawke, I don't know about this," I speak up.

Hawke and the others turn to face me.

Every part of my body feels tense, like it's slowly transmuting into stone. Forcing me to become an unwilling statue, bound to whatever unspoken evil that's sealed here . . . and to whatever madness came before it.

"What other choice do we have?" Hawke asks. "It's either this or we never get out of here."

"But at what cost? What if . . . What if we're unleashing something worse than we could ever imagine?" I clench my fists and shake my head. "I've fought one blight, Hawke . . . I don't think I can withstand another."

A look of understanding flickers in Hawke's softening gaze. With one arm stretched out, he walks over and squeezes my right shoulder. "Whatever this Corypheus thing is, you both said its Call is different from that of an archdemon's, right?" He glances between me and Anders.

"Yes, but still. That uncertainty . . . I don't know if it's worth the risk. And if that thing took control of either one of us—"

Then one of you would have to deal the final blow.

Against the monster.

Against Anders.

Against me.

I swallow down those last thoughts, unable to put them into words, knowing how cruel such a horrid curse could be. Tamlen being my prime example.

"If anything goes wrong, I'll take care of it," Hawke persists, the naivety and hope coating his voice underwhelming compared to his usual charismatic execution. "You guys just make sure you get out of here. Alright?"

He peers around at the lot of us with his 'I'm serious' death stare.

I smile and let out a faint laugh. "You're an idjit if you think we're leaving you here to fight this thing on your own, Hawke," I mutter with a tilt of my head.

"Couldn't have said it better myself, Twinkle Toes." Varric grins. "We're all in this together, Hawke. We've come this far already. Might as well see the end of it."

Hawke nods. "Then let's get this over with."

We run over to the first of the four glowing containment pillars, surrounding the seal. They're all beautiful golden griffin statues, complete with a Grey Warden chalice, and a shining magic stone at the center of the goblets. A perfect relic of the wardens from ancient times. A wonder that may have taken them years to make, during the chaos of the first blights. But apparently a deemed necessity.

Hawke activates the first pillar with the key, and the blue gem of this first chalice shines a bright, white light.

"It worked," Anders breathes. "You can see the binding spell's already weakened."

"Just three more to go." Hawke sighs.

We sprint to unlock the next one. This time the stone emits a green light upon activation.

"Are you certain this is a good idea?" Fenris asks. "Perhaps Serena is right."

"It takes Hawke blood to open his prison," Hawke continues on to the next pillar. "I imagine he won't stop until he has what he wants."

Fenris groans. "Isn't that always the way with these ancient prisons?"

I laugh, and Fenris and I exchange a brief, concurring smile. The first we've shared since I snapped at him earlier.

At least, if we do fall, we'll all be on better terms now compared to a few hours before. That might be the only highlight from this evening, if potential death or mind-control doesn't offer any consolation.

The third pillar exudes a purple light when Hawke triggers it. It reminds me of the magic-infused lightning you might see when casting a tempest spell. The air lightens around us with its release, washing away a phantom pressure I didn't even recognize existed.

"He's almost free now," Anders whispers, clutching tighter onto his staff.

"Yeah, you feel that? It's like . . . something is lifting." Varric furrows his brow at Hawke. "Last chance to change your mind, Hawke!" he says.

Hawke rolls his eyes and dashes over to the final pillar. Bethany joins him at his side, and after exchanging a silent stare with one another, the two activate the final statue, together.

Its gem flashes a brilliant gold. A visible magic stream shoots out from the griffin's mouth, and with a burst of blue and purple luminescence, the torches surrounding the final seal light up.

Hawke runs over to stand on top of it, and using a knife to cut his palm, his blood drips onto its center.

The seal flashes again, this time beaming upwards with a sparkly golden light. Hawke releases the key to allow it to float within its core. And for a moment, there's peace. Quiet.

Then, we're blinded by another burst of light.

Hawke and the key both fly backward, toward us, from the blast. A darkspawn-like creature, wearing what looks to be the remains of a tattered, ancient robe rises out of the seal in a dramatic, circular motion. Although humaneque in form, the monster's body appears contorted, twisted, disfigured by merged chain, rotting flesh, and bone. It glimpses around the area with glazed, mismatching eyes, seeming somewhat daze, confused. "Be this some dream I wake from? Am I in dwarven lands?" it asks. "Why seem their roads so empty?"

It stops to glare down at us, and my whole body freezes.

This creature . . . It looks so similar to The Architect. Not identical, but-

"You! Serve you at the temple of Dumat?" the being calls, and I realize this must be Corypheus, the unintelligible voice that's been calling me ever since we first entered the tower. His song temporarily silenced. "Bring me hence! I must speak with the first acolyte!"

"Dumat . . . was the first Old God to become an archdemon," Anders murmurs, his tone almost reverent, in awe. "There haven't been temples to him since ancient Tevinter."

Corypheus continues scowling at us, as if trying to take in our presence, to determine our worth. "You look human. Are you not citizens of the empire? Slaves then, to the dwarves? Why come you here?" He holds his chin up high and points a bony finger at us. "Whoever you be, you owe fealty to any magister of Tevinter. On your knees! All of you!"

My eyes widen.

Oh, no. He did not just say that.

I glimpse over at Fenris. He's glaring at him, but there's no angry, glowing, elf . . . yet.

"You're a darkspawn. Dark . . . spawn . . ." Hawke deadpans, not losing face for an instant. "Ravaging the deep roads, spreading the blight? Does this ring a bell? The Free Marches haven't been part of the Imperium for six hundred years!"

Corypheus squints at Hawke. "You are what held me. I smell the blood in you."

Oh, crap. It can tell?

I gulp and tighten my grip around my scythe.

Corypheus turns his back to us. "Dumat! Lord! Tell me. What waking dream is this?" he shouts.

No answer comes, and he slouches with noticeable disappointment.

"The light . . . We sought the golden light. You offered . . . the power of the gods themselves . . . But it was . . . black . . . corrupt. Darkness . . . ever since. How long?" he growls the last bit, his tone turning furious, almost hateful.

"The golden city," Larius gasps. "The first violation! The magisters who brought the blight!"

"That's ridiculous!" Anders shouts. "There were no magical bogeyman who trespassed in the Maker's city. It's a story!"

"You don't think a magister would be arrogant enough to challenge the Maker?" Fenris glares at Anders. "You need to meet more magisters."

Anders rolls his eyes at him. "It's chantry propaganda!" he scoffs.

"Then, where do you think darkspawn came from?" Hawke asks.

"Some creation of the old gods, no doubt," he retorts.

Ah. How I wish I could trust such hopeful reassurance from such a knowledgeable source . . .

"Dumat?" Corypheus paces in front of us again, once more looking outward, beyond the rotunda arches, above the yonder wastes and hills. "Have you forsaken me? I am your faithful servant!"

"The darkspawn aren't just some conveniently explicit lesson on the dangers of magic," Anders persists, seeming unwilling to give up.

"Tell that to the walking, talking, darkspawn mage, standing before us." I flip an exasperated hand toward Corypheus.

"And unless Corypheus is for real, everyone else who knows what happened is long dead," Hawke adds, sounding less impatient.

"You don't think it's a little convenient? What does every sane man and woman in Thedas fear? The blights," Anders say. "Why not pin those on mages, too?"

"Now's really not the time to argue over semantics!" I insist.

Corypheus spins to glare at us again. "What manner of speech is this?" he snaps. "How long have I slumbered?"

"He tainted the world," Larius whispers. "He speaks to all who carry the corruption. Darkspawn. Wardens. He brought Janeka here. Brought you." He directs the final portion at Hawke and Bethany. "We must kill him now. Before his memories come to."

"Seconded," I agree, and I prepare myself to lunge, even if the others do not.

Hawke nods. "If he could reach the Black City, who knows what else he's capable of. We need to kill him. Now."

"The city! It was supposed to be golden! It was supposed to be ours!" Corypheus floats higher into the air between us, his palpable rage only continuing to rise with him. "If I cannot leave with you, I will leave through you! I seek the light! The blood, lord! The blood is mine!"

He outstretches one hand in the direction of one of the pillars.

"Dumat, grant me your power!" he shouts.

The action draws the light into his hand. A magic ball of building, blinding energy.

"Hawke . . ." I ready myself to run, to slip into shadow. Anything. Something we should all do the same.

Corypheus sighs. "Ah, the fire in my veins." He opens and closes his glowing hand now, mana encompassing it like a sun. With a scheming smirk, he shoots a flame spell out in our direction. We all dodge by jumping off to the side.

Corypheus attack follows us, the self-proclaimed magister spinning ever so slowly above his former seal.

"You cannot avoid my fire!" he yells over the fire's frenzied crackling.

"You've got to be kidding me," Hawke groans, as we all run for our lives.

"The statues. If we destroy those, we can cut off his power!" Bethany shouts between breaths. "We should destroy them while we still can!"

We all slide into hiding behind one of the outer patio walls. Corypheus's flames blast through the adjoining arch a second later. The heat: scorching and far too close to my face. My heart pounding fast in my ears.

The moment the flames pass, Hawke jumps up and swings at the patio's resident griffin chalice, shattering the magic contraption to pieces.

"I'm an acolyte of Dumat. You cannot harm me," Corypheus sneers and shoots another burst of flame, riddled with lightning this time, at Hawke.

Hawke rolls out of the way, landing on the ground beside Bethany and Anders, behind the opposite patio wall. The force of the magical blow causes a gust of wind to ruffle up my hair, sending a horde of strands to wisp across my face.

"What next? Giant tornado monkeys?" Varric grumbles next to me, while loading up Bianca.

"Oh, I don't know," I muse. "I was leaning more toward flaming druffalo. But that's just me."

"Now's not the time for jokes," Fenris snaps, jumping back onto his feet.

Our group glimpses around the corner at the now resumed-spinning magister and sprints back out into domed rotunda, in the direction of the next pillar patio. Hawke immediately destroys its chalice with a wide sweep of his sword, then motions for us to keep moving, on to the next.

We trail along behind him, Corypheus's flame and lightning strikes pursuing us the whole while.

The magister's distant cackling impossible to ignore, as he's lost in his destructive madness.

We barely make it around the next pillar's patio corner unscathed, but I have to literally tug Anders by his robe, in order to do so. He falls on top of me and Fenris, behind the right patio wall. The two both groan and curse in unison, all three of us panting and bracing each other, as we're forced to bear with the uncomfortable position until the flames pass.

The moment the magic dissipate, Hawke and Fenris both leap up and take out the third pillar together, breaking the chalice with a unified blow with their greatswords.

"Hurry! One more to go!" Hawke yells, sweat dripping down his entire face.

We dash out into the rotunda again. The ground shakes. Small mountains of earth shoot up from the building's cracked tiles, creating an endless maze. Bursts of inconsistent lightning fill in the gaps, while falling icicles rain down from a frozen ceiling.

"Sweet Maker," Anders whispers, as he and Bethany both cast barriers around our group.

Together, we stumble our way through the maze, toward the final pillar. Corypheus's deranged laughter reverberates off the adjacent walls. He continues to spin and shoot flames and lightning at us from the center of the rotunda, seeming to enjoy the mounting chaos, playing out across the field around him.

"If I ever laugh like that, please take the opportunity to kill me," I shout as Hawke and I narrowly stop the others, to prevent them from being struck by another falling icicle along our path.

"You laugh like that, Twinkle Toes, and we're all done for," Varric retorts.

Scurrying forward again, we reach the final pillar. Hawke smashes it instantly, and the magic terrorizing the building fades.

Corypheus bellows an infuriated yell, and our group hastens forward: Varric, Anders, and Bethany shooting bolts out at him from the safety of our current patio, and Fenris, Hawke, and I charging to slice at him in close quarters.

Together, we slowly break through his armor, wounding him with both physical and magical attacks. Then, Hawke springs forward with a mighty yell, avoiding the magister's most recent ice blast. He lands a wide sweep across Corypheus's chest, the gaping wound penetrating deep into his mutated skin, shattering off pieces of bone.

Corypheus grasps at the injury and falls to his knees with a quiet yelp.

Before he can so much as look up, however, Hawke rushes forward and slits his throat.

His body falls, sprawling out across the tile floor.

Fenris and I both sigh and slump with relief. "That was satisfying," Fenris glimpses over at me, sounding proud.

I smile and nod, lost for a moment in his stunning, green gaze.

Bethany and the others run up to us and circle the now motionless corpse.

"To think Father was capable of this . . . and the wardens, too." Bethany shakes her head. Her short black waves sway with her. "Makes me miss the circle."

"Speak for yourself." Anders wipes his sweaty brow, his muddy brown eyes weary, almost dull.

"No one is ever going to believe this one." Varric sighs. "Not in a million years."

"Maybe that's a good thing," I quip, as Hawke kneels beside Corypheus. "I bet the world would love to hear about an ancient, self-proclaimed, tainted magister, who's publicly declared he entered the Black City over a thousand years ago. . . Oh! And let's not forget that he's become a darkspawn. Perhaps one of the first darkspawn. Oh, and the wardens have been hiding him in a forgotten, underground prison, in the middle of nowhere. I'm sure that would all go over splendidly."

Varric hums, seeming to see my point.

Hawke removes a silver amulet from around Corypheus's neck.

Anders's mouth drops wide open. "That amulet . . ." He rushes to gaze over Hawke's shoulder at it. "No one's used that pattern since before the First Blight! It was unique to a small sect in Tevinter, who worshiped the god Dumat. Corypheus really was an ancient magister!"

"They're no myth, mage," Fenris snarls, treading closer to the duo. "Nor have the magisters changed."

Anders frowns. "I-I always thought the Black City was just a story," he whispers, a hint of sadness in his lowering posture and voice.

Hawke stands up and pats Anders on the shoulder. "Even if it is true, it doesn't justify punishing mages over a thousand years later."

"Do you think?" Anders squints at him. "What else might the Chantry know that we don't? I-I'll need to study this further."

I pat him on the back as well, knowing it must be a lot to take in.

But still.

If Corypheus really was an ancient magister, and the chantry is right, does that mean The Architect was another magister as well? Are there more of them? And if so, how many? And what does it mean for the elven gods? My people's religion?

I swallow the mounting lump forming in the back of my throat.

Yes, we will need to research more, indeed.

We all walk up to Larius, who's been hiding out on the bridge this whole time. A wise call, considering his current . . . state.

"You did well, Hawke," he says upon our approach, his voice and posture carrying unexpected sane composure. "More than the Grey Wardens of old were able to accomplish. I will tell the wardens of your service here." He turns away from us.

"You think the wardens will give you a warm welcome looking like that?" Anders quirks a skeptical eyebrow at him. "I don't think we're supposed to come back from the Calling."

Larius lowers his head. "I must try." He rounds to face us again. "You've gained an ally today."

I narrow my eyes at him.

No. Something's not right.

I don't know what, but all my hair's standing on end.

"Why are you talking like that?" Hawke asks, sounding suspicious as well.

"My head is clear now." Larius shrugs. "Without Corypheus's Call, I can think again. I thank you for my freedom."

No. No!

Something else has definitely changed in him. It can't just be the Calling quieting in him. It can't. Something else has happened . . . But what?

I clench my fists and scrutinize him with a racing heart, looking for anything. Anything worth noting. That could justify us stopping him.

But I can't figure it out.

Hawke sighs and rubs his forehead, appearing unsuccessful as well. "The wardens won't thank me for the deaths of their own," he relents.

"Janeka ignored two Warden-Commanders express orders when she sought to free Corypheus. They'll be relieved she's gone." Larius glimpses at me. "This prison stands no more. My gratitude you have, for my freedom."

He smiles and walks away with that, and in my whole life, I've never felt so uneasy or uncertain.

Like our true mission has yet to be completed.