From Sacred Ash

by Son of Caliban

Marcus Venier is a young student from Canada, who jumps off a waterfall and falls into another world entirely. Markus Venier is a young Templar from the Dales, who fails to prevent the death of the Most Holy. I am the man born of their convergence. I am the Inquisitor. And this tale is mine to tell.

2. A Voice in Red

Half an hour ago, I needed a weapon. Now, I reflect, sword braced on my shoulder, I need a sheathe. I probably should have thought of this earlier, but the situation was escalating at such a rapid pace the idea never occurred to me.

The climb is about as arduous as the game originally implied; a nice long trek up a snowy mountain trail, with lots of quiet grumbling from Varric about how "dwarves don't actually like mountains all that much" and the occasional wordless rebuke from Cassandra. Solas is the only one to stay silent, his staff occasionally pulsing with a gentle orange flame to keep himself warm. I, meanwhile, am grateful for the heavy boots and coat I was given to wear.

The winds whistle and howl and the valley stretches out beneath us, Orlais to our right and Fereldan to our as we ascend the northern face. It would be beautiful to behold were it not for the colossal green hole in the sky above me tinging everything a sickly shade it should not be, casting its fell light like a second sun. I hum the Litany of Endurance under my breath, a comforting sound to my ears.

"So, kid..." Varric eventually strikes up a conversation with me, his voice a little lower than is perhaps necessary. "While the Seeker is out of earshot, how're you holding up?"

I glance towards him, then at Cassandra, thirty feet ahead and powering the snow like a motorized plow. I shake my head slowly.

"Terrified." I admit. "If this works and I do close the Breach, what happens next? Most of the people here think I... I did this. If they find out I failed to stop it..."

"People can be assholes." Varric agrees, nodding. "If it helps, I don't blame you. You tried your hardest, and against whatever caused... this..."

He gestures to the sky with both hands, before shaking his head.

"I don't think any Templar or mage could have done any better." he finishes.

"Hawke could have stopped this." I murmur, but he hears me and sighs.

"Maybe." he agrees, reticence in his voice. "But she's not here. So the world'll just have to make due."

"I hope we can live up to the task." Solas adds from behind, his voice a little strained. "It would be a shame, were this all for nothing."

I glance at the Mark then, swallowing hard as a pit of fear opens up in my stomach. My eyes flick upwards, looking at the Breach hovering in all its malignant glory, and I whisper a few words from the Chant of Light for comfort.

"When there was no sky, Maker..." Varric glances at me as I pray. "You were the sky..."

"I'd prefer a Maker in the sky over this thing." the dwarf agrees.

Solas chuckles, and I join in after a moment. Varric smiles, and it takes me a second to realize he's pleased about a job well done.

Cassandra, up ahead, calls back to us to hurry up. The winding trail disappears where she is, an imposing black cliff rising hundreds of feet into the air, with scaffolding clinging to its rocky face with almost desperate tightness. The ladders are nice and tall, and already Varric lets out a quiet sigh of agitation at the thought of scaling them.

Then, right before we reach Cassandra, I hear the Breach flare, expanding again, and am afforded a moment in which my heart can sink before the Mark flares with it and pain envelops my arm again. I stagger into the cliff face, leaning against it with a tiny whine escaping clenched teeth, the Mark burning bright and hot on my hand.

The pain is lesser this time, but it lingers longer, a good ten-plus seconds until finally it fades and the spots stop dancing in my vision. I take a deep breath, then another, glancing at the party. Solas watches with a veiled expression; his curiosity is obvious, though I do detect the faintest trace of empathy in his eyes. He would understand pain like this, after what he did.

Varric is concerned, openly so. He doesn't hide it like Solas or Cassandra; he walks towards me and puts a hand on my arm, saying nothing. He doesn't need to; I thank him regardless.

Cassandra... Cassandra shakes her head, slowly.

"This was a mistake." she declares, looking up at the scaffolding for a moment. "If you fall..."

"I won't." I promise, shaking my head. "If we hurry, I usually have a while between pulses. A fifteen minutes is more than enough to get into the mines."

She doesn't like it. It's easy to see, on her face and in her fists, the way they tense as if rebuking the world for leaving her without choice in the matter. But choice is revoked and the world cannot be rebuked, not as it is. I am the only who can do that… and to do so, I must climb. This much she agrees with, and so we rise.

The ladder is cold in my hands, slippery with frost, but I hold tight and will myself not to fall. Beneath me, Varric grumbles about ladders built for humans, and I chuckle at the sound. Higher and higher we climb, a second ladder, then a third and final. I step into the yawning black mouth of the mine, eyes searching the shadows for demons. Once more I whisper a Litany, this time of Revelation, commanding hidden things to be real.

It is difficult to describe the Litanies. They are not magic. Not really. But they aren't not magic, in truth. They are something more. Something I can't give justice to. Words spoken that make reality more than itself, force the immaterial into the material and demand that the inexplicable explain itself. It is power, plain and simple, limited by the constraints of the human voice. Without Lyrium, they are less than they could be; a fire with no fuel, matches without kindling to ignite. Weak, but present. Light and heat where there was cold.

Difficult to describe. But not impossible.

Nothing appears at my demands, and so we continue. I can feel their eyes on my back as I lead, but this tunnel is dark. In the game, I recall lit braziers, but this time there is nothing. Yet as I speak, my sword once more emits that soft glow, and from the back Solas burns a tiny flame at the end of his staff. Cassandra and Varric fill in the middle of our little column, and we pass through the tunnels without interruption.

The cold winds tell me first that we are nearly free of the dark. Then the light ahead, Varric letting out an audible sigh of relief. I climb the slope out, followed by the others, and into the open air of another mountain path.

In the distance, I hear the clash of metal on metal, shouts and screams. The Mark aches on my hand, a dull throbbing with the faintest traces of that burning heat licking at the ends of my fingers. I swallow, but the Breach does not contract. Cassandra takes the lead again as we continue our march, Varric walking beside me now.

Up ahead, around a corner of stone, we find the source of the sounds. A few soldiers in the armour of the Chantry faithful, locked in combat with demons. And above them I see, my Mark flaring at its presence, another rift. Cassandra spares me a passing glance, and I nod. We raise our weapons and cry as one, charging down the shallow hill towards our embattled allies.

My sword descends in a wicked arc, splitting a Wraith in two. Forced to be real by my Litany they are fodder, like slicing through paper strung taut, no durability beyond the faintest binding of magic. Solas blasts a Shade that approaches him with a rush of fire, and I turn to aid him in time to take a wicked cut across my shoulder. I grunt in pain, the claws of another Shade passing through the roughspun and furs like it too were paper, before turning back.

"His word, His oath I shall recount, I make His promise mine!" I shout, as I bring the sword to bear, slashing the Shade across it's hunched shoulders, my sword once more alight with a pale glow. "No beast nor demon born of Fade shall challenge the Divine!"

It breaks under my repeated strokes. It is a sloppy kill, sword rising and falling like an axe on wood, but butchering, for all its lack of finesse, makes short work of the living and nonliving alike. It dies and I breathe a sigh of relief, as the rift contracts before me.

I do not hesitate. It hurts, as always, burning and aching, but the rift closes and I let out a triumphant cry as I stagger backwards, bumping into a figure who barely catches me with strong arms. My hand stops its glowing as I am gently steadied by hands from behind. There is an almost musical chuckle as I am guided to an upright position, before one of those hands squeezes my uninjured shoulder.

"Steady now, I have you." speaks a very familiar voice, that sets me to blinking in confusion before I turn to see an elven woman with skin the colour of teak wood and eyes of vivid aquamarine smiling at me, a thin and elegant two-handed greatsword slung across her back. I had seen her from afar, but had not identified her. Now I know. The voice, the Dalish tattoos forming an arcing spiral around her left eye before circling down under her cheekbone and flitting behind her ear...

"Thank you…" I say, voice strained a little more than I'd like.

"'Tis only necessary." she replies, the smile going nowhere. "You are the one Lady Nightingale spoke of, he who bears an emerald mark."

Her hands clutch at mine, one in particular, pulling my left hand up to her eyes. Her touch is soft, kind, as she examines it, turning my hand this way and back, peering at my palm. A finger traces the sigil and she frowns a moment, and I wonder if it isn't perhaps elvish.

"Most curious…" she says, before releasing me from her grip as Cassandra draw near. "And yet, I fear we must away soon. I am Devehra Lavellan, a scout for Lady Nightingale. Might I know the name of our saviour-to-be?"

"Markus." I reply, bowing my head. "Markus Venier."

"Mutual pleasure, I hope." she says, before looking to Cassandra. "Seeker Pentaghast, I thank you for aid. I had feared all of us to perish here."

"Thank Sir Venier," Cassandra says, shaking her head. "It was his choice to come this way."

Lavellan looks at me, her smile back after such a short absence, before dropping down to one knee. I pause in surprise as she lays a hand across her chest. Moments later, the other three surviving soldiers, all human, supplicate themselves as well in a matching pose.

"Thank you, Sir Venier." she says. "We are in your debt."

"Only insofar as I survive what comes next." I assure her, though I notice Varric's expression darken at my words.

"Return to the forward camp, Lavellan." Cassandra commands. "The mines are clear of demons."

"My men will go," Lavellan replies, gesturing for her soldiers to do so. "But the path ahead is fraught with chance of peril. I would beg leave to remain with your company for a time."

Cassandra stares at her for a moment, but this time it is Varric who interjects.

"Spiral's more likely to find an easy path than the rest of us, Seeker," he notes, gesturing to Lavellan with a nod. "I'd prefer it if we knew which way we were going. And one extra sword can't hurt. It's not like she'd slow us down."

"I agree with Varric." Solas adds, stepping forward with metaphorical two cents in hand, leaning against his staff. "The Dalish are expert pathfinders, and we risk losing ourselves in the snow without her."

Cassandra looks then to me, and I pause. She does care about my opinion, already, before I've done much of anything. I consider it for a moment. Lavellan is here. Not my Lavellan, thankfully, I chose to play a pompous elven mage for my second run to give Solas someone to bicker with. This is an improvement, I feel, and not just because Devahra is a real person whereas Yevven was the result of my inexperienced fiddling with the character creator. She seems much more stable than Yevven was… and, both Markus and Marcus agree, easier on the eyes.

"A guide would be useful, and she has proven herself against demons." I note.

Cassandra nods then.

"It is decided, I suppose," she says. "With us, Corporal."

Lavellan smiles at that, falling in beside me as we march onwards through the snow.

It is a long hike to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, half an hour at least. It's also a cold and windy hike, though the healing potion I down for the pain of my opened shoulder helps fight the cold a little. Healing potions, as it turns out, taste vaguely of green tea. It isn't unpleasant, just surprising.

Lavellan is a talkative sort, finally giving Varric someone to bounce off of in his boredom. The two chatter about elves and dwarves and humans, trees and rocks and snow. Stories are mentioned, the oral traditions of the Dalish and the written (or more often, carved) word of the Dwarves. She even teases him about Swords and Shields, a copy of which she had apparently found aboard the ship she sailed with to get here, a conversational topic which sees Cassandra pointedly looking away from both of them.

It's pleasant to listen to, almost relaxing. Between their banter and the lack of Breach contractions, I can almost forget about the upcoming danger and certain pain. Eventually, however, I speed up a little, trying to catch up with Cassandra.

"Lady Seeker," I greet her, before she raises a hand.

"Please, Sir Markus, just Cassandra." she says. "I never expected to grow so tired of my title, but I have been called "Lady Seeker" at least a hundred times these past few hours. You and I have fought demons together. Cassandra will do fine."

I smile at that. Already on a first name basis? That's a promising start. I keep pace with her as best I can, though her longer legs give her an advantage in the snow.

"Cassandra, then." I say. "I… I want to thank you. You had every reason to distrust me, but you've been fairer than any would dare expect you to be."

"I only wish we had thought to armour you before heading out of Haven," she replies, gesturing to my wounded shoulder. "But then… I was not so certain of your innocence as I am now. I still cannot say that you did not do it, but I must admit it seems very unlikely by now."

"I wouldn't expect trust, to be honest." I shake my head. "Maybe… I don't know. But I am thankful all the same."

"As am I." she says. "You… you seem a good man. Or… boy. A good knight, at least. After this…"

She peers up to the Breach, a distant look in her eyes as if she's somewhere else entirely for a moment.

"I will commend you to the Lord Seeker." she declares. "What you've suffered for this mission goes beyond the call of any Templar. You are a credit to the Order… and a sign of hope for its future."

I smile at that, a real and genuine smile. It's one thing to be complimented. It's another to be told that you are a credit to an organization of which you are a junior member. She sees me smile, and even goes so far as to smile back.

"You have earned that much, at least." she concludes. "Now… the Temple should be just up-"

Her words are once again cut off as the Breach and the Mark both flair with power. I bite back a scream, taking a long step forward and bracing myself. Behind me I can hear Varric rushing forward, and another with him. Lavellan or Solas I can't say. Cassandra though, is the one to take my arm and hold me upright, a resolute expression on her face. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as the Mark continues to burn, and I lean against her for strength.

She puts her arms around me, and for a moment I feel like a child being held by his mother, seeking comfort in the pain. The Mark flares one more time and I can't muffle the quiet sob that breaks free from my throat before the pain begins to fade and I let out a deep sigh. Cassandra releases me, but keeps a hand on my arm until I've regained my balance.

"I-I'm sorry…" I flush red, but she shakes her head at my embarrassment.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of." she says. "I cannot imagine what pain that thing must cause you."

"More than enough." I manage to say, and behind me Varric chuckles again, his rush forward halted. "We shouldn't stop. Not when we're so close."

The rest of the party agrees, though I can feel Lavellan and Varric's eyes on me as we continue. They worry for me. It's… comforting, to know they care. Even Cassandra glances towards me from time to time, focusing on my hand, on the Mark. It stays quiet as we ascend, but the nearer we get to the Breach the more that dull throbbing sharpens, until we ascend to the Temple proper and it feels rather like I'm pressing my hand against a large metal spike, not quite breaking the skin.

I hide the pain as best I can. I need to focus. At the Temple entrance, there are soldiers fighting demons. I see a figure in red on horseback I can only assume to be Cullen, brandishing a polearm of some sort. Warriors clad in patchwork armour from a dozen sources, fighting and dying for me. We enter through an opening in the wall that was likely once a side entrance, now a gaping wound in the stonework. There is a triumphant cry from behind as the demons continue to die, but then I see the rift between us and the army, and realize what must be done.

"If that rift stays open, the demons won't stop." I realize, looking towards it. "Cassandra-"

"There is no time." Cassandra retorts, shaking her head. "Please, Sir Markus, we must go."

"I can't." I say, shaking my head. "I can't let them die for me."

And I go, towards the rift, sword in hand and a battlecry on my lips. I hear Varric follow behind, a shout of "oh what the hell" his chosen warcry, before Lavellan shouts something in elvish and follows. Solas comes with us as well, his gentle tread barely audible… then heavier steps join our charge, and Cassandra follows with shield high.

The demons at the rift itself barely have a moment to react before we hit them, swords and bolts and magical blasts tearing holes in their number. There are more here, dozens rather than a handful, Shades and Wraiths and a twisted thing I identify as a Horror. The soldiers ahead of us, on the other end of the demons, see our charge and are emboldened. I hear a powerful voice that must be Cullen calling for a charge, and three warriors on horseback, Cullen at their head with two Templars on his flanks, surge forward into the demon lines.

The infantry follow, and then the battle begins for real and I have no more time to watch.

A Shade lunges from the side, trying to get inside my guard. I turn away from him, bringing the sword up from below to strike across its face. It snarls at me and I bring the sword back down, shouting rebukes from the Litany at it to bring that holy edge back to my attacks. I lose sight of the Terror in the chaos, a soldier in the gilded armour of an Orlesian footman slamming into my target with his shoulder to knock it off balance, before bringing his two-handed axe down into its skull.

I give him a nod of acknowledgement before grabbing his shoulder and pulling hard, away from the Shade behind him. It misses due to my effort, claws cutting nothing but air, and I lunge forward and bury my sword in its throat with a thrusting strike. My sword comes free and I turn to my left, in time to see Lavellan nimbly leap over a Shade, twisting in mid-air to slice open its back with that elegant sword of hers and landing behind the dying demon.

Then, I feel a prickling along the back of my neck as something that should not be makes its presence known. I turn in time to see the Terror erupt from the earth, tossing soldiers around like ragdolls. Its barbed tail lashes out, opening the Orlesian's neck and leaving him choking to death in the snow. I move to intercept it, but Cassandra gets there before me, her shield catching it's claws mid-swing. They tend through the steel, at least at first, but soon catch. She punishes it with a sword in its narrow belly, two more of our soldiers joining her attack and slashing at its legs.

The Terror dies before it can scream, an arrow in the neck finishing it off. The last of the Shades die as well, and then I look at the rift above. All around me dozens of soldiers watch, waiting in hopeful expectation. Most have heard of this. None have seen.

I reach out and let the Mark and rift connect. The fire starts burning, the beam of green light connecting me to the hole in the world, and I fight to mend it. My jaw is clenched, eyes narrowed, sword tightly grasped in my free hand until finally I wrench my hand back and the rift closes with a tiny explosion of black goo and green light. The soldiers are silent as I lower myself to one knee, sword braced against the ground.

I breathe hard and slow, in and out, keeping my calm as best I can. The pain was worse that time, much worse. The nearness of the Breach likely didn't help matters much, and now I have to close it. I don't want to imagine the pain that will take.

Then, my reflection is broken as the soldiers begin to cheer. A sword is thrust into the air, then another, men and women shouting in celebration of this victory. Their elation fuels me, and I stand with a faint smile as the sheer exuberation they display washes over me. I've saved them, some of them at least. Next…

I point my sword to the Breach, so enormous in the sky above me, and then begin walking towards the Temple's heart. Varric and Solas fall in behind me as the soldiers part, making way for their makeshift hero and his band of misfits. Lavellan joins after a moment, her sword nimbly twirling in her hands before sliding back into the sheath.

Cassandra approaches me as I walk, with Leliana to her back.

"That was foolish, Sir Venier." Leliana scolds me, but I shake my head.

"Commander Cullen and his men needed our aid." I reply. "And the rift needed to be sealed. I don't want people dying for me. That's my job."

Leliana frowns at my choice of words, before looking over to Cassandra, who thinks for a moment before nodding.

"He is right." she agrees, and I stiffen up with surprise, looking at her as well. "The Breach will not go anywhere, and the more rifts we seal, the less demons that are likely to ambush us as he attempts to close it."

"The amount of energy coming from the Breach as it is sealed will attract all manner of powerful spirits." Solas adds, moving up to match our speed. "The Breach will corrupt them, make them demons, and they will be just as strong without their sanity. The less rifts we give them to fall through, the less that can lose themselves before the Breach is closed."

Leliana huffs at their interruptions, but after a moment's pondering she nods once.

"I see." She frowns again, looking up at the sky. "I will have my men take up positions around the temple, to handle these demons as they come."

"We're with you, red." the voice of Adaar interjects, her heavy footsteps joining our own, that hammer slung over her shoulder. "Most of the boys don't want to back down after that show the kid gave. We'll manage the monsters up close."

Her grin is toothy and savage, her eyes glimmering with barely subdued delight at the violence. A berserker soul, some part of me warns; I must take care her hammer is turned solely towards our enemies. She may lose herself in the bloodshed, and that hammer would do grave damage indeed.

I nod at her, and she smiles even wider as a dozen or so soldiers of this ragtag army Cullen's made join us, wielding swords and axes ranging from crude to gilded and gleaming. Among them marches a lone Templar, who I recognize after a moment as Lysette, the Orlesian Templar who spends the game being a short infodump on the Order and then listening to her co-worker whine about the Inquisition. It appears as though this time around, she'll be capable of slightly more.

I clench my sword in my hand and look upwards to the Breach one more time. There is a Pride Demon ahead, I remember that much. But how did you beat it? I recall smacking it and dodging attacks a lot. Beyond that...

"Maker…" Cassandra utters the word with horror in her voice as we drop down into the Temple proper, where emaciated corpses cling to themselves and each other, mouths wide in terror and smouldering forms popping and sizzling with internal flame. "How could anyone have survived this?"

"The grace of Andraste…" whispers one soldier, looking at me. "It must be…"

"I don't know." I reply truthfully, shaking my head. "I was thrown into the Fade, then the woman called to me, showed me the path out."

"The woman in gold…" another soldier says, as if she is first remembering what she had seen. "He's right. In the rift, behind him… there was a golden woman."

"Andraste…" I hear the first soldier whisper.

So, I consider. This is where the legend begins.

That whisper spreads through the ranks, and Cassandra seems surprised to hear it. I ignore it as best I can. I have to close the Breach first. Then we can deal with being chosen by Andraste or not.

As we round the corner to walk down the trail towards the crater, something begins to hum inside me, and my teeth begin to itch. I let out a disgruntled groan, and am surprised to hear somebody else utter a similar sound. I glance over my shoulder at Lysette, suddenly leaning against the wall beside her with a hand on her forehead.

"What is that sound?" she asks, her voice cracking with pain. "In my head… Maker, it's so loud…"

I can hear something too, whispering inside my head, voices pricking at my ears and sending shudders down my spine. The Mark flares as we move, but I stop as the voices get louder. Then, without warning, a voice calls out.

"Someone, help me!"

"That is Divine Justinia's voice!" Cassandra declares, her hand unsheathing her sword before she looks at Solas. "What is this?"

"An echo…" he says, shaking his head slowly. "So much power channeled in an instant… it has left a mark in the Fade itself. More than just the Breach… this cut deeper than anything I have seen before, to be audible in the world beyond the Veil."

"Maker, it hurts..." Lysette gasps, and one of the soldiers takes her arm as she staggers again, losing her balance. I too am beginning to feel a weakness in my legs, but I fight back against the strange sensation, forcing myself to walk.

Then it comes into sight, and the whispers turn to screams, my whole body burning as I am illuminated by the crimson light of red lyrium.

"No…" I can hear Varric declare his disbelief, but I am too busy dropping my sword and putting my hands over my ears to try and fend off the sounds. I stagger forward as Lysette did as the voices shout and scream, hungering hating hell-speech that drives a spike of red hot fury into my heart. I want to fight, kill, spill blood…

A hand settles on my shoulder and I feel something soothing fill me, a wisp of blue light travelling down my arm and gently encircling my wrist, holding tight. It is warm, soft, grounding me. It dims the crimson light and dulls the voices, setting a wall between them and I. I can hear them, scratching and screaming, but I ignore them now. Solas takes his hand off my shoulder.

"A Spirit of Calm." he explains. "It was called to the Breach, and then to the disturbance in your mind. I pulled it through the Veil as gently as I could, and sent it to you."

The wisp of blue hums softly against my skin under my sleeve, hidden from view. Solas is already walking away, towards Lysette, eyes closed as he dips into the Fade again. It is a sight to see; his fingertips glow with green, eldritch light like my Mark as he dips them through the Veil, plucking an azure strand like the one on my wrist free of the Fade and gently sets it to Lysette. This one encircles her throat like a necklace of blue light, glowing dimly, and her body shudders as her eyes open.

"Quiet…" she whispers, as if she can't quite believe that the noise is gone. "What… what happened?"

"Red lyrium." Varric declares. "Shit. I guess that's what the unprocessed stuff does to Templars."

"It was… in my head…" I murmur, still on my hands and knees, one hand coming up to press against my forehead. "So loud… I wanted to… I was so angry…"

"Bring forth the sacrifice." A voice booms, one I know to be Corypheus, echoing through the Temple.

I am pulled up to my feet by Cassandra, her hand more gentle than I expected. I lean against her for a moment, catching my balance, and she only lets go when I take a step forward to prove I am able to focus now. The spirit around my wrist, and its twin around Lysette's neck, draw curious and even fearful eyes. Lysette seems too grateful for the quiet to question Solas' actions. I, on the other hand, have the outside knowledge to know that a spirit won't harm me the way a demon will, so long as I don't corrupt it.

"Thank you, little one." I whisper, and the spirit flushes a little warmer against my skin as if in reply to my gratitude.

We continue down the path, the worst of the red lyrium's effects blocked by the kindly creature around my wrist. The voices continue, the standard canonical questions are asked. I don't feign surprise at the voices; Solas' explanation is enough for most of them, and as our soldiers take up their positions Varric repeatedly reminds everybody to stay away from the blatantly evil spikes of crimson crystal jutting from the earth.

Finally, we drop down, and I behold myself interrupting Corypheus' ritual. Or rather, Markus as he was before we became one. He surges forward, sword in hand, his Fade reflection a shadow glowing in the dark, before the vision vanishes. Cassandra stares. They all stare. I swallow back my regret and step forward.

"You must activate the Breach to begin sealing it." Solas warns, as he leaps down beside me, his staff firmly grasped in both hands. "Channel the power of the Mark into it. That will awaken it. Once it is open, only then can it be properly closed."

I step closer now, and raise my hand. The Spirit of Calm thrums warmly against my skin, a comforting feeling as I push the Mark towards the rift at the base of the Breach. A beam of light connects the two, and I feel the pain again, but muted now, made softer by the spirit. It heats up more, taking the pain. It is Calm. And thereby, so am I.

The Breach flares, and the rift opens and out steps a monster.

It is a giant thing, twice the height of a man with a foot or so to spare. But it is not the Pride Demon I know from the game. This thing is tall and narrow, no hulking monster but an almost resplendent creature with a mask of gold in the shape of a beautiful woman's face. Its shape is more feminine than masculine, but there is a touch of androgyny in it, the thinness of the waist tapering to wider hips but the chest flat and angular, a swan-like neck rising to that golden mask and two slender arms stretching out to the sides.

It is clad in purest white, thin and breezy garments like the loose robes of a mage of another world, a collar of golden fur like the pelt of a lion about its neck. It does not touch the ground, its feet thin and blade-like; it simply hovers above. I stare at it, and it stares back at me.

"You meddle with affairs beyond you." it declares, its voice one of authority and purpose. "The Elder One surpasses you with every motion, as do I. You are not worthy of that which you have stolen."

"Pride…" Solas whispers, before his voice rises to a warning shout. "Be wary!"

"A fickle name." the demon says, looking at him now. "Ill-fitting and meagre. I am more than Pride, little elf. I am Absolute, the sum of all, above and beyond."

"A demon of delusional grandeur…" Varric mutters, cocking his crossbow. "Now I've seen everything."

"Silence."

The demon raises a hand as arrows begin to fly, Leliana's command to fire silent. None touch it; they are halted in the air by a wash of light that is so nearly golden, but instead is sickly and yellow. The demon gestures, a single motion of a delicate wrist, and the arrows fall.

"You cannot kill me." It almost scoffs. "More than you could ever imagine yourselves being… I am a god, you childish things. How can you kill a god?"

A surge of energy explodes from the mark as I reach out, touching the rift behind it. The demon floats back, away from that beam of light that so ruthlessly denies it. Arrows once more fly and once more it dismisses them, observing with eyes that cannot be seen behind the mask as I touch the Fade with the Mark.

"Observe." I say, before wrenching back my hand.

The rift is disrupted, spitting verdant sparks everywhere around it… and Absolute, as it has named itself, is staggered in the air. The third volley of arrows fly, and this time they find purchase in flesh like ivory, tearing holes in its elegant garb and drawing pale blue blood from its wounds. It lets out a sound of pain as it flails suddenly, graceful even in panic, and I point my sword and shout a single word.

"Andraste!" I cry, and I rush Absolute with my blade raised high.

Behind me, the soldiers join the charge and the shout, crying the name of their prophet and saviour as one. Lysette calls out too, but her words are a Litany of Rebuke; a chant I join her in speaking, our voices becoming one. She moves beside me, sword and shield in hand, and I spare for her a single glance before we enter battle with the demon.

Absolute recovers from its shock in time to summon a weapon, light forming a long, thin blade of some pale metal. It blocks my first blow, dismissively batting it aside, before Lysette brings her own sword around in a wicked arcing cut. Absolute moves to deflect that as well, but the Litany reaches a fever pitch as Lysette and I shout it as one, and the demon's sword moves just a touch too slow, Lysette's strike finding purchase in the not-flesh of its calf. The cut is deep, and I am to make it a twin with my own sword, but Absolute cries out in frustration and throws itself backward in a flurry of cloth and motion.

More arrows fire, and some find their purchase in the demon's flesh. Solas flings bolts of ice at the creature, a patina of frost building around its sword arm as his precise fire falls upon it. Varric peppers its chest with bolts, Bianca flinging one missile after another with cruel accuracy. Lysette and I chase the demon, charging after it and forcing it to flee us into the path of the arrows and bolts.

"Strike the bell the fourth time, and let His mercy fall." Lysette and I call to the creature, almost taunting it with our voices. "A gift of sweet surrender freely given to us all!"

Absolute wails in frustration, its body tensing. I am spared a single moment to shout a warning to all around us before a surge of power leaves the demon, sending Lysette and I flying. The other soldiers are also thrown from their feet, bowling one another over and crashing to the earth. I hit the ground hard, sword clattering on the fused black stone a few feet away. My Mark hums with power, and I spare the rift a passing glance. It is returned to its former stability. This is something I must rectify.

The demon is displeased, a hand extending and pulling an archer from her perch, before that pale sword thrusts forward and impales her. I hear Varric cry out in anger, before a bolt unlike his last few strikes Absolute's shoulder. The demon checks the wound and freezes, before the bolt explodes and it is knocked off balance itself.

I reach for the rift and let the pain fill my arm. It is like dunking my hand in molten metal by now, the relief of the Spirit of Calm having faded some time ago. The little thing still clings to my arm, helping however it can. Green touches green and I scream to the sky as I once more tear my hand away, the rift pulsing as it shrinks.

Absolute rushes me, those robes flapping in the wind. I bring my sword up and narrowly deflect a thrust aimed for my throat, before a foot that is itself a blade lashes out and cuts me across the cheek. I gasp in pain, before Lysette shouts a line from the Litany of Dominion and I feel new strength fill me. Her sword glows more brightly than mine as she rushes forward; no doubt she took lyrium, and recently. Absolute twists to catch her sword, giving me an opening. I stab upwards with both hands on my sword, and thrust clean into the small of Absolute's narrow back, letting the demon scream in agony as I begin to chant the Litany of Forbiddance.

My sword glows with holy light, dimmer than normal but still burning the not-flesh of the demon it is buried in. Absolute twists, and the hilt is ripped from my grasp before I throw myself away from that pale sword it wields. The demon's dismissive calm is gone now, its anger clear to us all. Absolute has reached a state of absolute fury. I would laugh if it wasn't so damn scary.

"You are nothing!" the demon screams. "Pretender! False one! Liar! I am Absolute! I am that which is above, that which is beyond! You! Are! Nothing!"

I am forced to duck and dive and throw myself away from each attack, as Lysette chases after the demon to return to our prior efforts. An Inquisition soldier charges before she can reach it, however, a cry on his lips.

"For the Herald!" he shouts, before burying an axe in Absolute's thigh.

The demon screeches in fury, but I shove the soldier away so that its retaliatory strike cuts only a narrow gash across the backs of my shoulders, before I turn and reach out once more with the Mark. Once more it dodges away from the beam of green, and I touch the rift and let the power flow, screaming in pain and terror and anger at the sheer audacity of this stupid demon to interrupt what is meant to be an easy tutorial boss.

"NO!" Absolute surges forward, sword raised to strike my arm off completely.

Before the blow can fall, I hear the clash of metal on metal, and glance to my side just in time to witness Lavellan twisting the demon's sword away with her own reverse stroke, the attack turning into a thrust without so much as a moment to shift stance, burying that strange elven greatsword deep in the demon's chest.

"Ra is ma ehn is banal…" she says in Elven, ripping the sword free as Absolute dies thrashing at its end. "Dara in atish…"

Absolute fades into nothingness, the last broken remains of its body falling away into the rift. That seems to weaken it, and I let out a final cry as the Breach surges again. It is rebelling against my efforts to close it, rejecting my power. My hand is in agony. My voice cracks and goes silent, my scream nothing more than a weak exhale of breath. I drop to my knees, my free hand clutching at the elbow of my left arm, holding tight, willing the pain to end.

Finally, after what seems an eternity, the rift surges one last time, the Breach pulsing and contracting into itself. The feedback from the forced stabilization throws me back, and I crash gratefully to the ground where the dark can begin to take me.

Solas stands over me, Lavellan opposite him. But it is Cassandra who drops down to one knee and shouts for a healer, taking my hand in her own and demanding I stay awake. I can only murmur an apology as the world goes black.

End Chapter the Second.

AN: This came out quicker than I expected, courtesy of some mood music and a heavy hit of inspiration. I would love to promise a consistent upload schedule.

And this time, I will. One a week. Maybe more. But at least one chapter a week. It's about time I started holding myself accountable for these projects, and this is the one I feel the most confident about.

Thank you for the first few follows and favourites. It means a lot. Don't be afraid to review, but I won't beg. Just consider it. Feedback makes me happy, after all.

See y'all by next week.