CHAPTER 7

..x..

They reached Ostagar without further trouble. As they arrived, the guards posted outside opened the gates for them, allowing the bloodied, worn-out group entrance back into the relative safety of the fortress walls. Everil led them back to their Warden-Commander, who still waited for them by the bonfire near the Grey Warden camp.

"Good. You have returned," Duncan greeted them as they approached. "Have you been successful in retrieving the scrolls?"

Alistair frowned. "Barely… A crazy old apostate had them."

"An apostate?"

"Two of them. They seemed to have been living in the Wilds for a long time. Probably hiding from the Chantry and their Templars."

"That is not our concern," Duncan said sternly. "You are not a Templar any longer, Alistair. Let us focus on the task at hand."

"Of course..." Alistair replied quietly. "What do we do with the scrolls?"

"Hold on to them for now." He then turned to the rest of the group. "While you all were gone, I had the Circle mages prepare the rest of what is needed. We are ready to commence immediately."

"Let's just get it over with," Everil responded firmly.

"I agree, let's have it done," Ser Jory joined in.

"Good. That is the attitude you will need to face what is to come," said Duncan, then he shifted his gaze back to Alistair. "Take them to the old temple. I will finish up the preparations and join you shortly."

"Understood," he replied and gestured for them to follow.

Soon it was just the four of them once more, gathered away from prying eyes and in the hidden chamber of a crumbling temple just outside the king's camp. Everil couldn't deny the secrecy around what they were about to do was unnerving, but it seemed she had no other choice but to proceed. She looked to the others around her. Each of them had their own reasons to live, but they were all in the same situation as her, and that knowledge alone made it a little easier to deal with.

"I don't like this," Ser Jory muttered uncomfortably, fidgeting on his feet. "I thought we already proved our worth. Why another test? And why all the secrets?"

"Maybe they just want to annoy you…" Daveth teased with a smirk, hands resting on his hips.

"I'm sure there is more we're not being told…" Everil gazed pointedly towards Alistair. "But there's really nothing more we can do."

He gave her an apologetic look in response.

Footsteps made the four companions turn their heads to Duncan as he approached, a silver chalice resting in his hands. He placed the cup on a nearby table, then solemnly regarded the group. "This ritual has been performed since the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered their taint. Those before us followed in their footsteps and so did we before you."

"Wait…" Ser Jory took a step back, mortified by the revelation. "We're going to drink the blood of those… Those creatures?"

"Drinking darkspawn blood makes us immune to the deadly illness that comes from being exposed to their taint for too long. It also gives us the ability to detect them from afar," Alistair responded quietly. "You'll see… If you survive."

"If we survive?" Daveth asked with a furrowed brow. "Just how much danger are we in?"

"I will not lie to you…" Duncan said grimly. "Not all recruits make it through the Joining, and those who do are forever changed. It is the price we pay... But fate may decree you pay it now, rather than later."

"But I have a wife and a child on the way…" Ser Jory's anxious stare went to him. "If you had warned me…"

"If they had warned you, you probably wouldn't have come," Everil told him sternly as she folded her arms. "I may not like it, but they are doing what they must. Otherwise, no one would be willing to make whatever sacrifices are necessary to protect mankind from the Blight."

"You're right," Daveth said as he scratched his chin. "I don't think I would've ever joined had Duncan not conscripted me when the Denerim guards threatened to take me in. I was sure to die of hanging, anyway. I guess at least this would have some honor to it."

"I just…" Jory sighed, looking at the ground. "I have never fought a foe I could not engage with my blade…"

Duncan's somber voice soon followed, reverence in his tone. "We say only a few words before we begin. Alistair, if you will."

Alistair cast his eyes upon the floor, repeating words almost sacred. "Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day, we shall join you."

The Warden-Commander then took the chalice and approached the first recruit. "Step forward, Daveth."

The rogue's jaw set and he took a confident step. No further questions were asked as he received the chalice and drank a single gulp from it. Everil watched intently from behind, waiting for a reaction when suddenly Daveth let out gurgling coughs. He folded over, scratching at his throat as if it were burning. She lowered her arms and retreated a few steps as they witnessed their companion convulse in agony, the sight leaving her rooted to the spot. He fell on his knees and then to the floor, his body shaking as he struggled to breathe.

"I am sorry, Daveth…" Duncan regretfully gazed at the man, watching as he slowly died before slowly facing Ser Jory.

What remained of the knight's courage faded the moment his stare landed on him. His terrified eyes went to Daveth's corpse, feet shuffling back as he fearfully spoke. "But I have a wife... A child…"

Everil couldn't utter a word of encouragement at this point, for even with all her gallantry, she too was now afraid of that chalice.

Showing no emotion, Duncan kept approaching the knight, cornering him to a wall. "There is no turning back."

"N-No!" Ser Jory fearfully went for his greatsword. "You ask too much! There is no glory in this!"

Silently narrowing his eyes, Duncan set down the cup and drew his own weapon as the knight cowered and raised his blade. The Warden moved in with the same swift precision he used on any enemy, striking like a serpent. He easily deflected Jory's panicked swing, then buried his dagger into his gut without pause. Jory dropped his blade and grabbed on to him, releasing a muted cry when Duncan twisted his weapon.

Everil watched in consternation as the knight sank to the floor, gasping for air as his blood pooled underneath him. Her heart beat wildly, her survival instincts kicking in and telling her to run away and save herself. But she willed her feet to stay put as Duncan now set his sights upon her.

Gone was the warmth his eyes once held, replaced by the chilling focus of a predator as Ser Jory's blood stained his armor. "Everil. Come forth."

The girl felt herself gulp. There appeared to be a fifty-fifty chance that she was going to die. And yet she still had unfinished business. Still had to talk to Fergus and help him take back what was once theirs. She had to avenge her family, her soldiers, her castle staff.

But as Everil reached for that chalice, and saw the unwavering commitment in Duncan's eyes, she realized none of that truly mattered. Memories of the dismembered bodies in the Wilds flooded her mind, reminding her of the boundless cruelty the darkspawn were capable of. They would kill indiscriminately. Everything in their path would die. So as difficult as it was to admit, the Blight's threat was of greater importance than her and her own problems.

Her gaze was set upon the red liquid in the cup, her reflection showing over its dark crimson surface. And it was then that she remembered some of her mother's last words. "The Couslands always do our duty first."

She steeled herself, gripping the cup tightly in both hands. She would help defeat the Blight. Or die trying.

Without another thought, Everil brought the cup to her lips and drank the foul-smelling liquid, its bitterness quickly coating her tongue. She grimaced while swallowing, the substance burning its way down her throat like boiling water. Then it all rammed into her as an anvil slammed by a great hammer. A hundred voices rushed into her mind and drowned away any semblance of thought or reason, overwhelming her senses and overpowering her very being. She reached for her head, an intense headache piercing her brain.

Duncan took the chalice from her and stepped back, speaking words she never thought to hear. "From this moment on, you are a Grey Warden."

"Agh…!" Violent dry-heaving paralyzed her as her stomach constricted, trying to make her vomit whatever rotten thing she'd just ingested. But it was denied. The taint forcibly dug its claws into her very being, sending searing pain shooting throughout her body as sharp needles piercing every nerve. All strength left her and she whined in agony, her legs quickly becoming too weak to hold her. Everil vaguely felt herself fall and a pair of arms catch her as vivid images of a thousand marching darkspawn forces flooded her mind. Her eyes rolled up into her head and she was no longer able to stay conscious.

Alistair gently laid her on her back, then took a knee beside her. He looked her over with concern, seeing her fingers twitch and her muscles spasm. A sure sign that the taint was spreading through her.

"She made it…" Duncan declared with visible relief as he set aside the cup.

His junior sent him a haunted stare. "I… I don't think I'll ever get used to this…"

"You don't," he admitted, standing by him while they waited for her to awaken. "You can only tell yourself that sacrifice is necessary..."

.x.x.x.x.

The sun had nearly set, leaving the sky a gradient of colors that faded to black as the light of day slowly gave way to the night. A cold nose nuzzled her cheek and a whimper escaped her as she regained feeling in her sore body. Blue eyes then slowly opened, seeing the faces of two men, along with that of her faithful hound.

"Welcome…" Duncan greeted soberly, standing above Alistair. "How are you feeling?"

Everil slowly sat up and then hugged herself, shuddering as she swallowed. "I... I have never felt… So much pain in my life."

"Such is what it takes to become what we are."

Alistair rose to his feet and offered her a hand, which she took before he helped her up. "Did you have nightmares? I had terrible nightmares after my Joining."

"I did..." she breathed, disconcerted. "So… So many darkspawn…"

"Here…" Alistair walked over to the table, picking up a set of armor, neatly folded and with a pendant sitting over it. He stepped towards her, then handed her the bundle. "You've earned the Grey Warden garbs."

"Thank you…" She wrapped her fingers around the vestiges, admiring the regal griffons spread over the small, decorative breastplate. Everil then picked up the pendant, lifting it to take a closer look at the swirling red liquid inside.

"We used some of the blood we collected for it." Alistair gazed somberly at her, reverence in his words. "It's meant to remind us of those who didn't make it this far."

"Oh…" She turned her eyes to the floor, where only bloodstains remained. "Where are they?"

"Their bodies were picked up by the Chantry. They will be sent back to their families to receive a proper ceremony," Duncan answered after following her line of vision, before once again regarding her. "Right now we have more important matters to worry about. The king has asked for our presence and we are to speak to him immediately. So get ready and meet us on the other side of the temple."

"Understood…" Everil replied softly before she watched him walk out of the secluded chamber.

Alistair walked a few steps behind him, but paused halfway to the door, turning to her with a remorseful expression. "Will you be... all right?"

Still holding her gear tightly, she gazed back at him, still unsure of how to feel about what happened. The way he was looking at her. With such a troubled stare. It made it clear that he felt guilty for everything. For having kept such a secret from her, knowing all along that he was possibly leading her towards death itself. But she couldn't be angry with him, and she couldn't blame Duncan for doing what was necessary either. Everyone had to make difficult choices and willfully carry the heavy burdens that came along with them, especially during difficult times like these.

"Yes…" she finally answered, offering him a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. Thank you for your concern."

"Anytime…" Alistair seemed to visibly relax, giving her a small grin of his own. Then he continued to walk in the same direction Duncan went, leaving her alone in the privacy of the temple's old chamber.

Once the men were gone, Everil proceeded to discard her heavier armor and change into her new gear. She slid on the white, long-sleeved tunic first. Then the blue gambeson, which had an elegant steel griffon spreading its wings over the right shoulder. A steel scale hauberk followed, and over her chest went the plate with the two griffons etched over it. Brown leather boots and gloves came next, completing the outfit. Unlike her companions, she carried no pauldrons or grieves. The weight of her gear was meant for someone requiring more freedom of movement and speed, as bulkier protection would only slow her down.

With a decisive nod, she strapped her sword and dagger to her hips, then slung on the bow and quiver that she'd taken from the genlock during their trek in the Wilds. She rotated her arms, getting used to the new gear and adjusting the straps that held everything in place. Once content with her comfort, she turned to the stairs, walking confidently while Bjorn followed closely behind her. Everil felt reborn in a way. With a bigger purpose now that she wasn't just fighting in this war alone or for herself. And she was determined to win against the Blight. And eventually, against Rendon Howe as well.

.x.x.x.x.

After crossing the long hall outside the temple, Everil reached the meeting spot where Duncan and Alistair gathered with the king and others around a long table. A map of Ostagar was spread over it, with markers that laid out the strategy. She moved to stand behind her new commander, crossing her arms to listen as their monarch and Teyrn Loghain argued.

"The frontline is too dangerous for you to be playing hero," said the teyrn, gazing at his son in law with a disapproving scowl.

Cailan lifted his chin stubbornly. "Loghain, my decision is final. I will be leading the battle alongside the Grey Wardens."

"You risk too much! The bulk of the horde is not to be taken lightly. I have already told you this!"

"These are my men! My forces! And I will fight alongside them whether you like it or not!" the king shot back as he obstinately met his glare. "If you worry this much over my safety, then perhaps we should wait for the Orlesian forces to aid us in the fight!"

Taking a deep breath, Loghain pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "I must repeat my protest to your fool notion that we need the Orlesians to help us in this war."

"It is not a fool notion…" Cailan's eyes narrowed dangerously at his tone. "Our arguments with the Orlesians are a thing of the past. And you will remember who is king."

Loghain paused for a moment, gazing darkly at him. "How fortunate Maric did not live to see his son ready to hand Ferelden over to those who enslaved us for a century..."

"Then our current forces will have to suffice, won't they?" Cailan retorted moodily before regarding the Warden-Commander. "Duncan, are your men ready for battle?"

He nodded. "They are, Your Majesty."

"And I see by the armor that Everil has officially joined your ranks," he said, his earlier irritation dissipating as he sent her a gentle smile. "Congratulations. I'm sure your father would be proud."

She bowed her head lightly. "Thank you, sire."

"Every Grey Warden is needed now. You should be honored." His grin widened. "And who knows? Perhaps after tonight, children all over Ferelden will be reading about you in history books."

"I heard the king loves those kinds of stories," she replied with a small smile of her own.

He chuckled. "That I do."

"Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing, Cailan," Loghain interjected as he stepped back towards the table. "We must attend to reality."

Cailan gave him an annoyed look and leaned over the map. "Fine... Speak your strategy."

"Your forces will draw in the darkspawn from the front and into the gorge, where they will be forced to funnel in." Loghain ran a finger from one part of the map to the other. "Then you will alert the tower to light the signal for my men to—"

"Flank them. I remember," Cailan cut in as he looked at the marker over the tower. "Who shall light the signal?"

"I have a few men stationed there. It is not a dangerous task, but it is vital."

The king looked up to the Grey Wardens standing before him, glancing over at the junior members of the order. "Then we need our best up there. Send Alistair and Everil to make sure it gets done."

"What?" Alistair spoke out before he could stop himself.

"Alistair…" Duncan warned.

He slammed his mouth shut, lips pressed into a thin line.

"But we Wardens are needed to fight the darkspawn, no? Why can't we be in the battle?" Everil voiced his question instead, drawing a defeated breath from their commander.

Cailan smiled at her. "The entire strategy depends on that signal. Don't worry. There will be glory for everyone."

"You rely too much on these Grey Wardens, Cailan. Is that truly wise?" Loghain questioned.

"Enough of your conspiracy theories, Loghain." The king shot him a glare. "Grey Wardens battle the Blight no matter where they're from. And I happen to know Alistair and Everil are more than fully capable of handling such a task."

She glanced at Loghain, then bowed her head to the king. "We will do our best, Your Majesty."

"Good! It is settled then. We have a plan," said Cailan, a childish smile spreading upon his lips. "I can't wait for that moment... The king of Ferelden, fighting alongside the fabled Grey Wardens to stem the tide of evil! It'll be glorious!"

"Yes, Cailan…" Loghain muttered, turning away from him with a cold stare. "Glorious indeed…"

.x.x.x.x.

With the meeting over, the three Grey Wardens headed back to the bonfire by their camp. They gathered beside it, their commander ready to discuss the details of their task. "You heard the king. You two will ensure the beacon is lit in order to alert Teyrn Loghain's forces to charge. We will signal you from the battlefield when the time is right." Duncan gazed upon the two young warriors before him while standing on the slope leading to the fire. "The king has placed a great responsibility in your hands. He and I have faith in both of you."

"Just not enough to let us be in the battle..." Alistair muttered in frustration.

"I agree with him," Everil chimed in confidently. "We should be fighting alongside you. We could make a difference."

"That is not your decision to make." Duncan sternly gazed at them, regarding them as if they were children. "If the king says the Grey Wardens are needed to light the beacon, then the Grey Wardens will be there."

Alistair stubbornly folded his arms. "Just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line. Darkspawn or no."

The mental pictures caused her to smile teasingly at him. "Actually, I think that would be an interesting sight to behold."

"If that's the case, then I could maybe put on a show just for you…" he said, grinning playfully at her. "But it has to be a pretty dress."

A light chuckle escaped her. "Deal."

Duncan sighed hopelessly at the pair. "At any rate, the fight is about to begin and I must go join the others. Remember, I don't want any heroics from either of you. Do as you're told and wait until the fight is over. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ser," the two said in unison.

"Good." Then Duncan turned to leave.

"Duncan…"

He gazed back to Alistair, arching a brow "Yes."

"I, uh…" He looked up at him, a strange pressure in his chest as he realized this would be the moment of truth. That any one of them could die tonight. "May the Maker watch over you…"

"May the Maker watch over us all." Duncan nodded firmly, then walked away towards the gates.

Remaining where they stood, his young apprentices silently watched his retreating back. His sure steps took him further away from them until eventually, he disappeared behind the fortress walls.

.x.x.x.x.

It wasn't long before war cries and the clash of metal filled the ancient fortress, drowning the silence of the night as the two young Wardens and the hound approached the overpass. The light of torches and the glittering of iron could be seen in the gorge below the bridge as the king's armies clashed against the darkspawn with violent intensity. With their pulse already racing, Alistair and Everil were forced to stop before crossing as a great ball of fire flew up from the battlefield. It exploded upon one of the soldiers ahead, taking out both him and the catapult he'd been using.

"Those are not trebuchets! It's darkspawn magic!" Alistair yelled above the noise.

They hesitated, while soldiers behind them rushed in, promptly replacing the dead. More fireballs were cast, hitting one of the towers on the other side of the gorge and destroying part of it with its explosive force.

Everil swallowed and then steeled herself, shouting over the sounds of battle at her companions. "Come on!"

She ran, Alistair and Bjorn following closely as they attempted to cross the bridge, stepping around charred corpses as they went. They passed by more soldiers as they discharged their catapults at the enemies below. And she willed herself not to stop to look at the sheer amount of darkspawn swarming the field.

"Look out!"

Alistair seized her arm just as more magic exploded before her, barely missing her as the shockwave sent them both flying back. They landed roughly a few steps from where the flames spread, coughing from the smoke and dust. "Shit! Hurry!" With little time to recover, he pushed himself to his feet, and taking her by the wrist, pulled her up with him. He held onto her as their feet hit the ground, attempting to keep them from getting separated in the chaos as everything seemed to explode around them. And Everil let him lead, everything happening too fast for her to process.

Another blazing ball came down, and this time it was her turn to stop him, grabbing his arm just as it hit the bridge in front of them. They avoided the explosion this time and hurried the rest of the way, leaving the burning soldiers behind. As soon as they made it across, he released her and both jogged towards a set of stairs leading up to the grounds around the tower. A soldier and a mage ran down to meet them.

"G-Grey Wardens! The tower is under attack!" yelled the mage, panicking.

"What do you mean, man! Under attack by whom!" Alistair shouted in alarm.

"Darkspawn! They came from the ground in the lower levels. Everyone inside is dead!" the soldier replied, an armored finger pointed in the tower's direction.

"Blast…" Everil muttered under her breath. If the tower was taken, then the signal was compromised.

"We have to light the beacon ourselves!" Alistair told her, eyes unwavering. They had no other choice.

"Then that's what we will do." She dipped her head, then faced the two men before them. "We need you to fight with us! Let's go!"

They hurried up the steps, the soldier and mage following behind them. Immediately, genlocks charged at them with axes and swords as the Wardens drew their weapons. Everil cried out as she brought down her blade, cutting through one, then swiftly stabbing the next in the chest. She kept moving, not waiting for the creatures to fall as she clashed swords with a hurlock waiting ahead. Alistair was close behind, deflecting a genlock's axe before slashing across its chest.

She ducked, avoiding the monster's sword, before swinging her own at its gut. Her feet hit the ground as she dashed up another set of stairs. Darkspawn stood at every corner, murdering the men surrounding the tower. The group of four and the hound continued to fight their way through to the entrance before Everil burst in, throwing the doors open hard enough for them to slam against the wall. A bloody chamber with scattered bodies greeted them, but they didn't have much time to take in the sight. For who knew how long it would take them to reach the top, and they already wasted time outside.

She led them through the large room towards the path ahead as more genlocks stood in their way. Her sword found one, then two, their cries echoing under the high ceilings. Alistair ran past her and swung, deflecting the axe of a hurlock before he stabbed it through the head. They continued to cross the dark halls as more enemies blocked their advance. But the two Grey Wardens easily cut through them, while their other companions helped take down the ones trying to attack them from behind. Soon they reached a set of stairs leading up to the second level of the tower.

"We only killed stragglers." Alistair was panting for breath as they paused at the bottom of the steps. "There are larger groups waiting for us upstairs."

"You can feel them?" she inquired, breathing just as hard.

"Yes."

A puzzled look dawned upon her. "I… I can't…"

"You won't right away... It takes time." He walked up towards the double doors. "Let's just be careful. We don't want to get surrounded."

They climbed and stepped into the next room, seeing more bodies everywhere they went. Their feet squelched over the gore covering the floors, the acrid scent of it saturating the place. Limbs and torsos hung from the walls, the grizzly scene causing her stomach to twist in protest.

This is worse than the Korcari Wilds... Everil thought with a disgusted grimace.

"I don't understand…" Alistair walked towards the center of the room, a disturbed look over his face as he took in the carnage around them. "There wasn't supposed to be any resistance here!"

"Were you not complaining you wouldn't get to fight?" she teased, offering him a half-smile.

"Hey, you're right... I guess there is a silver lining here after all." He had a small grin of his own, one that was short-lived. "At any rate, we should hurry! Loghain's waiting for that signal and the king will need his men in the fight."

"Right," she nodded and resumed her hurried steps through the next long, dark hallway. He and the others went after her, heading towards the next wave of enemies waiting for them ahead.

.x.x.x.x.

By the time they reached the last floor, they were all covered in darkspawn blood but thankfully uninjured. Everil cut down the last of the genlocks, watching it fall while attempting to wipe red from her chin, smearing it instead. Grunting tiredly, she kicked it and spun about, approaching the other men. "Everyone all right?"

A ground-shaking roar resounded through the room, making the group turn their heads towards the next door above.

"By the Maker… What was that?" The soldier took a step back, frightened by the bestial sound.

She silently agreed with the man's fear, but they were too close to turn back. Determination settled over her eyes and Everil began walking up the stairs, turning to look down at her companions. "Everyone down there is depending on us. Let's get this done and make your comrades' sacrifice count for something!"

The soldier swallowed and nodded his head, eyes hardening. Beside him, the mage joined in with a fearless expression. "Lead on, Grey Wardens."

Everil and Alistair climbed up and opened the door, leading them in before shutting it behind them. The wide chamber that followed was devoid of light, but they immediately knew something was inside when its putrid smell reached their nostrils. They slowly advanced, taking tentative steps as they tried to see past the darkness. Heavy breathing could be heard in the distance, ominously filling the silence. Trails of blood led them further in, and just as the two Wardens reached the center, another roar shook them to the core.

A ten-foot, horned beast charged from out of the shadows, violently slamming the mage to the ground before taking hold of the soldier. The man screamed in pure agony as his body was crushed under its vise grip, the cracking sound of bones breaking joining his cries.

Bjorn barked viciously at the monsters, keeping his distance while standing between it and his mistress.

"Maker…" Everil breathed out as it brought its victim up to a monstrous maw lined with sharp, jagged teeth.

It bit off the poor man's head with a sickening crunch, blood spraying upwards like a fountain. The massive creature growled as it chewed and wiped its mouth with the back of its giant hand. Still not satisfied, it carelessly dropped the still convulsing corpse and took a massive step, setting its sights upon them.

"An ogre…" Alistair inwardly cursed their rotten luck. Grey Wardens often fought these monsters in teams, as they were too dangerous and powerful for a single Warden to face on their own. And thanks to their brief time in the order, the two of them barely counted as one.

The ogre moved towards them, blocking their access to the hearth that was to be their beacon and forcing them to back away from it. Everil scowled at it. There was no time to wear it down, not when the king's forces were still fighting for their lives. They had to end it quickly or all would be lost.

She looked their enemy over as it stalked closer to them. Its body was made up of pure muscle, with a wide, bulky chest and even broader shoulders. The two legs carrying it were just as strong, but the knees could still prove to be a weakness if they were to buckle under its heavy weight. "We should attack low," she suggested, glancing towards Alistair. "It has to carry a lot on those legs. If one of us can bring it down to a knee, the other can take the head."

"That sounds like a good plan to me." He gave a firm nod.

Waiting no longer, the ogre bull-rushed them, its mighty horns aimed at them. They split up, the monster barely missing them. Alistair and Bjorn ran towards it, quickly engaging it before it could try to rush them again. Her hound bit at its calves, shredding through flesh as the beast attempted to swat him away. Meanwhile, the Warden sliced at its thighs, his blade cutting deep as blood sprayed the floor. Then seeing the creature pull back its arm, he ducked, dodging the hit.

Everil joined them, slashing at its knees as it roared. And yet despite their efforts, she felt as if they were flies trying to take down a man. The ogre continued to move effortlessly in spite of the many wounds now covering its legs, the hits only making it angrier. It reached down, and this time, Alistair was too slow to dodge. It took hold of him, forcing a cry out of him as his ribs strained under the pressure of its massive grip. He gritted his teeth, struggling and unable to free his sword arm as the creature lifted him off the ground.

"Alistair!" Everil called out as she watched the ogre slowly bring him up to its mouth. Without thinking, she sheathed her blades, slid the bow off her shoulder, and fired. The arrow found its eye just as the ogre opened its maws, burying itself deep into its skull and causing it to drop its would-be meal. Her companion fell on his back with a grunt as the creature howled in pain, its hands covering its face as it bled onto them.

It snarled angrily at her and rushed in a blind rage, stomping and swinging as the floor shook beneath their feet. She quickly rolled to the side, avoiding a giant punch from the beast. It continued like a mad bull, striking at the air as it stalked after her.

Everil ducked, but as it swung one arm, it brought down the other, hitting her hip and sending her tumbling a few feet over the hard ground. It took her a minute to pinpoint her position when she stopped rolling, vision swimming as her brain struggled to adjust. Groaning in pain, she lifted her head and placed a hand over her burning thigh. "Aah… That's going to leave a bad bruise..." she hissed through clenched teeth.

A roar snapped her out of the daze, eyes shooting in its direction as its hideous face came into view. "Maker's breath!" She scrambled onto her rear and crawled back, trying to move away as it reached down with its outstretched hand.

With a battle cry, Alistair darted between her and the ogre, sword swooshing in an arch and slicing off three of its fingers. It howled in agony, holding on to its wrist as red gushed from the open stubs. Then it moved away, cradling the oozing limb against its chest.

Everil looked up as her fellow Warden pulled her by the arm, helping her stand.

"Bastard's the grabby type, huh?" he jested, giving her a wry smile.

"It…" She bit back the pain upon putting her weight on the leg. "It certainly seems that way…"

"Thank you for saving me back there. That was—" He shuddered involuntarily. "—way too close for comfort."

"Well, we're even now." She smirked, dropping the now broken bow to then draw her blade. "I have an idea... Shall we put it out of its misery?"

He nodded firmly. "Let's do it."

"Attack on my signal…" Taking a step, Everil turned to face the ogre, preparing her weapon. And she bolted into motion, ignoring the pain while running towards the beast. It saw her coming, growling at the challenge as it charged, its horns pointed at her. She picked up speed, sprinting as it got closer. It was mere steps from her when she dropped and slid across the ground, her body drifting over the stone and between its massive legs. She swiftly used an arm to stop herself and then whirled to the back of the monster. It didn't have time to turn around when she darted forth, launching herself at one leg and burying her blade into the back of its knee. It growled out in pain as she cut through its kneecap, forcing its leg to buckle.

"Now!" She cried out, holding on to her blade as the ogre struggled.

Alistair was already moving, sword in hand after having put away his shield. Roaring, he jumped, using its bent leg as a stepping stone to propel himself up towards its head. His blade sunk into its throat, piercing through the ogre's windpipe as he watched it gurgled up blood. It began to drop just as Everil yanked her weapon out of it and jumped away. Alistair held on to his sword, knees to the monster's chest as it fell backwards along with him.

The ogre hit the floor with a heavy slam, its arms still trying to reach for the Grey Warden still on top of it. Before it could grab him, Alistair pulled out his sword and gripped the hilt with both hands, raising it over his head before bringing it down. He stabbed through the monster's open maw, causing it to gurgle a growl as blood poured out and pool under its head. The Warden then twisted his blade once and the beast finally stopped moving.

Without wasting any more time, he slid off the dead monster and made for the beacon. Everil and her hound jogged after him, sheathing her sword. He lit the fire and the flames shot up like a spire, burning the night sky with its bright, yellow light. Panting for breath, the two Grey Wardens gazed up at the blaze, Alistair still on a knee by the long chimney.

"We… We did it," Everil spoke breathlessly, putting on a small, relieved smile.

"Yeah," he chuckled and craned his head to look up at her. "I think we work well together."

"Yes... So do I." Her smile broadened as she offered him a friendly hand to help him up.

But as Alistair was about to reach for it, familiar, dark voices flooded his head, causing his eyes to grow wide. The snap of bowstrings then echoed in his ears, and he saw her body jerk twice as if hit by something from behind. She coughed up blood, a few drops of her blood splattered over his stunned face. And then she was falling, her knees giving out just as multiple bowstrings snapped once more.

"Shit!" He bolted to his feet, pulled her to him, and brought his shield up with barely enough time to protect them from the larger wave of arrows that rained down upon them. One got his leg, causing him to grit his teeth in pain as it pierced through his armor. After the rain stopped, he took an unsteady step back and threw her arm over his shoulders, helping her stand while looking towards their attackers.

"Shit, shit, shit…!" he cursed under his breath, seeing they were outnumbered by the darkspawn still pouring in through their only exit. All charging towards them, weapons raised as their archers set down their bows to join in their fun.

Bjorn quickly pounced and took out one of them before trying to tackle another, only to be kicked off. He rose again, backing up while growling and snarling, yet his attempt at intimidation was futile.

Clenching his jaw, Alistair put away his shield and drew his blade to fend off several others, his other arm keeping his fellow Warden on her feet. A grunt escaped him as a hurlock broke through his block, slicing at his side and sending blood splattering over the floor. "Bastard!" He hit it across the face with the pommel of his sword, throwing it off balance before slicing its neck with one swift swing.

The mabari stood weakly between them and the enemy, attempting to protect his mistress while now carrying injuries of his own.

Dazed and in agony, Everil glanced up at Alistair as blood soaked her back and slid down her legs. There was nothing she could tell him. Nothing she could say to offer hope or comfort. We're going to die… She swallowed, the taste of copper filling her mouth as her hand weakly reached for her hip and drew her sword. Grunting, Everil swung it once, taking out a genlock that got too close to them.

He felt her lean more heavily on him, which drew his gaze to her. She was barely conscious as she struggled to breathe, crimson spilling out from a corner of her mouth. And yet there was a defiant look in her eyes. As if not even death itself could ever stop her. The hand at her waist tightened its hold, pulling her closer to him before they found themselves cornered against the wall. They watched helplessly as the increasing number of darkspawn began closing in, cackling in mirth as if already enjoying their impending suffering.

Suffering that never came.

A burst of wind exploded through one of the massive mosaic windows, sweeping away several of the creatures as glass shot out in every direction. A regal dragon emerged from it, red scales shimmering as it landed heavily and swung its massive tail at the darkspawn. They were sent flying back before it roared and stumped on multiple others, smashing them to the ground as if they were nothing but insects.

The two Grey Wardens watched in silent shock as flames shot out of its mouth, torching the remaining enemies, turning them to ash. Sensing their stares, the dragon then moved its head towards them and snarled. Piercing yellow eyes focused on the wounded pair as they struggled to stand. Bloodied, worn, and terrified.

And it was then that Everil felt her consciousness leave her, the beast's eyes boring into her mind before darkness claimed her.