Note: The layout of the temple is not true to the games, just a heads up…
When Elissa opened her eyes again, the icy darkness remained. Panic flooded through and she tried to move, jarring the water and rubble suffocating her. A piece above fell away, letting a single stream of light enter, and Elissa groaned, her legs, wrist and back all protesting as she lay half-submerged in the moat. Coughing, she let the pain wash over, before gritting her teeth and assessing the damage. Debris from the bridge lay strewn over her, and a support beam had fallen across her hips and legs, trapping her. Something warm and wet dribbled down her nose and off her chin, and she winced, making to wipe the blood. Her left hand screamed, and she cried out, cradling it to her chest. Even beneath the gauntlet her wrist throbbed and burned, and bending her fingers was like a hammer-blow to the inside. It had to be broken.
Snatching her breath, Elissa reached with her right hand, pushing against the pillar that kept her in place. It was a feeble effort, and despite throwing all her strength behind, it refused to budge. Elissa groaned, flopping back into the water. She closed her eyes, the trickle of dripping droplets echoing deep.
"Alistair?" Her call was little more than a croak, scraping raw against her throat. Even if he had escaped the bridge collapse, there was no way he'd hear her. And the others would've gone on ahead. She had no-one else to fall back on.
I have to get out of here!
Snarling, Elissa renewed her efforts. She tried to twist her leg free and push with her hand. Her pulse cantered in her ears, her breaths stumbled to keep up, and every muscle sang with agony. Yet still nothing worked, and she sank back into the moat, shivering. The rune on her chest tingled, and she bit her lip. The frightening rage-fire had already stirred when she'd destroyed the Executioner, and a drop too much would fully unleash it. Tempting as it was, she couldn't risk it, not when she'd lose control and destroy everything in sight, friend or foe.
But if I don't do something…
"Need some help, my friend?"
A bolt of dread shot down Elissa's spine, and her breath caught. That Antivan lilt was the last voice she'd expected—and wanted—to hear. Before she could answer, more of the overhead rubble cleared, and the silver-blond head of Zevran appeared. He wasn't wearing his usual hood, and if not for the strange glint in his eye, looked practically unchanged from when they had travelled together during the Blight. He flashed a smile, extending his hand.
"Get the hell away from me!" Elissa snarled. She fumbled for her sword, which remained girded to her hip.
"Oh?" Zevran arched a brow. "I would not recommend that as a fruitful action, Elissa." He tilted his head. "Would you truly prefer to be trapped in darkness, when there is a chance to walk in the light again?"
"Shut up!" Elissa finally managed to pull her blade from its sheath. "You're going to answer for the blood you've shed, Zevran, the lives you've endangered, the lies you've spun!" She struggled again, at last finding a gap for her leg to slip free. "I won't stand for it anymore!"
Zevran fell quiet, his eyes growing distant.
"Yes," he murmured, all traces of his usual humour gone. "I will indeed pay the price, the one my master set the day he saved me. One I have since accepted, knowing the pain and grief it would bring, and how many bridges I would have to burn." His gaze met Elissa's, a turbulent storm of regret and…loneliness. "But alas, it is not you who will collect that debt, my friend. You can be safe knowing that the punishment I deserve is coming, so do not waste your anger. You have more pressing matters to focus on."
Elissa stilled, listening. Furious as she was, as much as her hand itched to let steel meet flesh, part of her was moved by the Antivan's words. Whatever Zevran had done, it was all in service to a power that controlled his every move. He was no more an active agent than she was, and Morrigan's words echoed back. Here was yet another knife wielded by another murderer. Perhaps she shouldn't be so quick to judge without knowing the full story. No matter how much his actions had hurt.
"I will cut you a deal, Elissa," Zevran said. "I owe you much, much more, but this is all can offer for now. Let me free you, and I will tell you all I know. My master will disapprove, but his wrath means little to me. Our time has been run into the ground, and this may be our only hope to save anything."
Elissa closed her eyes, deliberating.
"Alright," she said at last. "Help me."
Nodding, Zevran came closer, shoving away bricks and stone as if they were mere pebbles. Next he gripped the fallen pillar and flung it backwards, where it crashed into the remains of the bridge. The release of pressure was instant, and Elissa bent her knees, grateful that nothing else had been broken. Gently, Zevran hooked his arm under her shoulder, before pulling her upright. Elissa's thighs and calves groaned, but they stood strong, and she eased herself onto the debris. She pressed her sleeve to the cuts around her brow, spitting out the pooled blood between her lips.
"Did you see Alistair?" she asked, glancing around the moat ruins.
"I did not, no," Zevran admitted, seating himself opposite. "But the Herald and her entourage made it across. They should be within the temple vestibule."
Elissa nodded, wincing as her neck creaked. At least her distraction had been worth something. She kept her left wrist as still as possible, as the slightest pressure would send lancinating pain into her fingers.
"In order to understand what lies in the future, we have to first look to the past," Zevran began, rubbing his forearm. "Long, long ago, before Andraste, before the Blights, before history itself, before the very creation of our world, dwelled two powers so ancient and unknowable even the label 'god' is too weak. One moulded Thedas and all we know of it, and as time passed we came to call Him the Maker. The other breathed life across it, guardian of souls and keeper of death, and she has long been forgotten."
"Etro," Elissa uttered, a flutter escaping her chest.
"Indeed," Zevran went on. "She was forgotten because she was murdered, Elissa. But her loss doomed the entire world, and thus those who have looked, those who sought to remember, have pledged their utmost to see her return." His eyes hardened. "At first Andraste was meant to be the goddess reborn, but her love of helping the suffering resulted in her death before she could assume her rightful place. It resulted in a blood-tie, meaning only her descendants could bear the power of her soul. It has taken generations for one worthy of this to be born, and that vessel is you, Elissa."
"So we've found out," Elissa murmured. "But why? If Etro's been dead for generations, why the importance to bring her back?"
"Because the unbound souls are destroying the world," Zevran said. "Each and every year the Corruption spreads further and deeper, the lyrium veins that kept it in check every depleting. Now it has spread to the core of Thedas and it cannot be contained. It will not be long before it floods every corner of the world, consuming all into darkness." He sighed. "My master's hope was to restore you to your full power, to avert the oncoming disaster, alas I failed his mission. The Shards were split, and now we have gone past the point of no return."
Elissa scowled.
"Was that why you targeted Lara and Amber?" she asked. "Why you tried to kill them?"
"They should never have inherited a power that was yours alone," Zevran answered. "And the sacrifice of two souls to give every living creature a second chance seems hardly the darkest of crimes. But thanks to my failure, the hope of those wanting Thedas's salvation has been dashed." He paused. "Even if you were to have your full power restored this instant, Elissa, it is too late. The Corruption is too widespread to contain." He licked his lips. "However, my master, in his wisdom, has found another way."
Elissa shivered, almost too afraid to voice her question.
"What does that entail?" she asked, hesitant.
"A new beginning," Zevran replied, leaning back on his hands. "A chance to wipe the slate clean, and start afresh, with none of the sins of the past hanging over us. To see Thedas reborn into a bright and glorious future."
Elissa blinked. "How…How is such a thing possible?"
"It will only be possible if you accept your destiny, Elissa," Zevran countered, dodging the question. "The souls of Thedas need a guide, a shepherd if you will, to ensure they do not become consumed to nothingness." He faced Elissa, his jaw set. "It is impossible, even with all my power, to slay a Shard-Bearer. Thus, there is but a single way forward from here." He took a breath. "You must kill Lahara Trevelyan and Amber Hawke and reclaim your Shards. Fail in this, and you will have doomed all existence to die, including yourself."
Elissa stared, dumbstruck. This was…too much. It had to be another lie, another trick.
"I don't believe you," she whispered.
"Belief or not, it is the truth as I know it," Zevran stated. "Etro must live, and if she is not resurrected soon, everything will disappear." He folded his arms. "When we faced the onslaught of the Blight all those years ago, you never shied from the hard decisions, Elissa. This is no different, though the stakes are much, much higher. You have to see this through."
"I…I can't." Elissa's hands shook, her thoughts filled with the images of her friends. "How could I…what will happen to their souls…"
"A fate far worse than if you do not kill them first," Zevran said. "It is for the future of all Thedas, Elissa. No matter the pain, you cannot cower from this. It is your duty."
Elissa's fists clenched. That word made her blood boil, and her arms shook. My duty? Just as it was my duty to end the Blight, to sacrifice all I was, to be rewarded with darkness and loss and pain and grief? As it was my duty to unleash the Shards, to condemn my closest allies to a fate worse than death?!
I will not do it!
"No." Elissa stood, making to walk away. "I won't fall for this again!" Her eyes flared. "A bright future for Thedas, you say? You sound no different to Corypheus who wants to enslave us all!" She hissed. "Your master is just the same as all the other power-hungry fools who fumble to seize opportunity as it suits them! I won't be used as a tool any longer!"
Zevran's face fell.
"My dear, I'd hoped you would listen this time," he said, also rising to his feet. "Alas, why should you, given all the deceit that has left my lips before? It is only reasonable for you in your position. I don't fault you." A flash of light creased his eyes. "But you have left me no choice."
Elissa gasped, meaning to run, but her legs never moved. An unseen force had her bolted in place, and her chest filled with terror. She threw every bit of her resolve to her muscles, begging them to respond, yet all she could do was watch, frozen, as Zevran approached. He gazed upon her, his lips downturned, his eyes burdened with sorrow.
"I wish…I wish I did not have to do this." His voice cracked, and he raised his arm. Elissa fell to her knees, splashing moat-water into the air.
"No, wait, Zevran, please!" Elissa howled, as invisible bands wrapped around her wrists, pulling her arms apart. She screamed as her left hand jarred, her head forced upwards and stretching her neck. She was completely helpless. Just like in the cultist's temple.
Gasping, she stared, horrified, as Zevran removed a dagger from his belt. The twin of the blade he had given her to first reveal his identity. Her Shard rumbled, feeding off the bubbling mix of fear and pain and anger. The feelings began to spiral, and Elissa's breathing quickened, desperate not to swept into the chaos.
"No," she begged, "you can't…I won't…you have to stop this, please, please!"
If she lost control…
Lahara, Bethany, Alistair…
Leliana!
"I am truly, truly sorry, my friend." Zevran's eyes glistened. "But my master's will is absolute. And if I do not do this, every soul on Thedas will perish, and I…He will not let that happen. Not while I am at His mercy."
"Zevran, please stop!" Elissa screamed. "Don't do this, don't do this!"
The Antivan's voice broke, and he let his tears escape at last.
"Elissa, please forgive me!"
Finally steel met flesh, and a thunderous shriek broke the sky.
Lahara groaned, her ears still ringing from the bridge collapse. Spitting out dust, she sank against a wall, her lyrium collar clicking as it fought to keep up with her breathing. The others stood around her, equally as worn out. They had managed to reach the other side through a narrow passage and were now in the temple proper. But the impact of the Archdemon's body had caused that corridor to also fall on itself, meaning there was no way back to the bridge. No way to know what had become of Alistair and Elissa.
Bethany's gaze was locked onto the rubble, her face torn. Her expression alone made Lahara's heart break, and she bit her lip.
"Don't worry so much," Iron Bull proclaimed, though even he couldn't hide his own worry. "The ol' Hero survived falling from a tower and the Warden-Commander's got her back. We'll see them soon enough."
"Yes." Bethany's voice was quiet but determined. "Is everyone else alright?"
"Just about," Lahara answered, rubbing the back of her neck.
"We should press on and not waste the time they have bought us." Cassandra spoke, practical and cool. "Corypheus must not get to the Well."
"Yeah," Lahara sighed. "We'd better hurry."
Breaking her gaze from the blocked passage, the Herald turned to the new room. They had entered a courtyard of some kind, where two statues lined with unusual floor panels stood. Another entrance led deeper inside above a series of steps, and a second entrance sat on the west side. Lahara rubbed her chin, thoughtful. Eventually she decided to check the nearest statue, but at the same time the squeal of rusted hinges echoed, along with Dorian's muttering. She glanced to the second entrance as the enormous door opened, revealing the Tevinter mage, Merrill, Solas and Morrigan in tow.
"Well, that's good timing," Lahara called, hurrying to join them. "All in one piece?"
"Mostly," Dorian answered. "We had to split from the others, there were too many Red Templars and Venatori to deal with." He wiped his brow. "I don't wish to pay such an entrance fee again. It's hard work fleeing for your life."
"I can assure you ours was no less expensive," Lahara chimed. "Did you see any sign of Corypheus?"
"No, but he has infested these grounds with those hateful dust creatures," Solas growled, clutching his staff so tight his knuckles were white. "It has made us all but powerless."
"I've never seen so many in one place," Merrill chipped in. "It's…horrible." She shivered. "They're eating through the temple and there's nothing we can do to stop them."
"They are storming a path to the inner sanctum," Morrigan added, "though the temple's guardians are not making it easy. But we cannot dawdle. Every second in our favour is a gift, and we must not lose it."
"Gotcha." Lahara wandered up the steps at the front of the courtyard. A large set of double-doors stood there, and even without touching, the Herald could taste the mana in the stone. She brought her hand towards it, and her Shard burned. Flinching, Lahara stepped back. Even her bracelet was agitated and rattled against her skin. "Seems there's more magic seals this far in. Any idea how we break them?"
"Let me see." Merrill jogged to the door, examining it. She tutted and hummed, running a finger over its edges, but there was no obvious lock or barricade. "I can't…"
"Wait." Morrigan had stepped towards one of the statues, studying the carvings at their base. She muttered the Elvish words to herself, chewing her lip. "It appears that the door shall only open to those who pay their respects to Mythal."
"Is that so?" Merrill frowned. She abandoned the door, making for the statue herself. For a moment she too mulled over the inscription, when her brow raised. "Yes, that's right. How were you able to read that?"
"T'is so surprising that a 'shemlen' would take an interest into a history more ancient than that of her own kind?" Morrigan drawled. "If we wish to look to the future, we must understand what lies in the past. A Dalish such as yourself surely knows that above all."
"Yes, but look too far into the past, and you are doomed to repeat it," Merrill answered quietly. "The Well has been sealed all this time for a reason. It must hold a great and terrible power."
"It does indeed, yet old tales of fear-mongering will not stop Corypheus," Morrigan said. "And it will not help my son." She levelled her gaze. "Find me unworthy as you will, but know none of this is for my own sake."
"So you claim," Solas huffed. "I have seen gluttons look upon feasts less favourably."
"Regardless," Morrigan went on, ignoring the remark, "if we are to enter the sanctum, we must exercise the proper rituals."
"And how do we do that?" Lahara asked, swallowing her disquiet. "Sacrifice a few halla? Chant a few lines of sacred text? A little song and dance routine?"
"The latter is not far wrong." Morrigan stroked her chin. "Wait a moment, I shall attempt."
She stepped onto the panel before the first statue. A surge of mana filled the crevices, and so Morrigan stepped to the next, that one also stirring to life. Lahara watched, her collar clicking as Morrigan followed the pattern, until all the panels were activated. Something rumbled in the stone, and the statue's eyes began to glow gold.
"Aha!" Merrill's eyes lit up in understanding, and she crossed over to the other statue, repeating a similar ritual. Once finished, her statue also came alive, and the door beyond the steps groaned, sliding open. A dark passage loomed, and Lahara shivered, a sudden coldness falling over her. This path had not been opened for centuries and centuries, and Merrill's words took on a new depth of meaning.
We really shouldn't be here.
Morrigan strode past, seeming to sense no such inhibitions. Sighing, Lahara walked behind her, crossing her fingers behind her back. Soon they entered another chamber, this one in better repair than what had come before. It was more like a petitioner's court than a temple, surrounded by two balconies and with elegant pillars holding up the walls. Statues of elven archers lined the doors, and a mosaic of Mythal herself adorned the ceiling. Ahead stood the tallest structure, an elevated platform akin to a judge's bench. And it was not empty.
Lahara held her breath, watching a hooded figure pace the wall of judgement. He was dressed in armour Lahara had never seen before. He raised his arm in a fist, and a chilling shiver ran down her spine. She didn't have to turn around to know a rank of archers were waiting, their bows primed at her back.
"You intrigue me, stranger," the hooded figure spoke, his face etched with the tattoos of the deity he still served. "You are not like the other invaders." He stopped pacing. "You stumble through these paths with our own at your side, and…" His gaze lingered on Lahara's left hand. "…you bear a magic that is familiar. Tell me, what is your connection to those defiling our home?"
"Great," Lahara muttered under her breath. She squared her shoulders, standing tall. "We mean you no harm, er…"
"I am Abelas," the figure stated, "and I lead the Sentinels, guardians of this sanctuary."
"Right, Abelas," Lahara repeated. "The ones destroying your sacred ground serve my enemy. He seeks to plunder and savage your temple. We're trying to stop him."
"Indeed," Abelas murmured. "Yet you stand before me and not those you quarrel with, also eager to sip from the Vir'Abelasan?"
"The Place of the Way of Sorrows," Morrigan whispered. "He speaks of the Well!"
"You are no less fools than all those who came before you," Abelas went on. "It is not for you. Any of you."
Before Lahara could answer, Morrigan stepped forward.
"T'is not a case of senseless greed and ambition," she pleaded. "My son is dying, trapped between the realm of living and dead, never to find peace. I seek the power of the Well to free his soul!"
"The Vir'Abelasan will not allow you to restore him," Abelas countered. "Even if it could, we would still not sacrifice it."
"You would turn away a mother fighting to save her only child?" Morrigan shot back. "Is Mythal not also known as the All-Mother, do you not revere her in the same light?" She shook her head. "You do not speak truth, Abelas, if only to protect what you know. I have shown my respect, and will follow any trial you set further."
"There are no further trials that would deem you worthy," Abelas snarled. "You think I have not heard similar stories seeking the pity of my heart?"
"Apathy is not a choice you can afford, Sentinel," Morrigan argued. "Care not for my plight as you will, but turn me away and the enemy despoiling your temple will capitalize instead. He has power you cannot hope to fight alone, and he will not stop until he has consumed all your sacred ground has to offer."
Abelas flinched at her words.
"Yes," he said slowly. "I have seen them. The creatures of darkness that consume all they touch. It leeches the protective magic that has long guarded these walls, and they do not fall to flame, bow or sword."
"They don't fall to magic, either," Lahara cut in, mindful of the doors behind them. They had already wasted so many precious minutes, but she did not want to be fighting a battle on two fronts. "Only one power can destroy them, and it's one I possess." She clenched her right hand to a fist. "I can help defeat them and preserve your temple, if…"
"The Vir'Abelasan is not a prize to be bartered for!" Abelas barked. "Without it, this temple loses purpose, as do we. I would rather see it destroyed." His eyes turned to steel. "I give you one last chance, intruders. Leave this place and never return, and we will not pursue. Continue this foolishness, however, and…"
A cry broke from the entrance, and Lahara spun around. A mass of inky black filled her vision, and she cursed. She scrambled, taking cover behind a pillar as four dust monsters smashed through the stone. They broke the line of archers, the latter's arrows sailing through their bodies as they swiped and devoured them. Abelas swore, disappearing through a doorway behind the platform, and Morrigan shouted, becoming a raven and fleeing after him.
"Wait!" Merrill raced after them. Solas and Dorian made to chase, when the dust monsters sprang, barring their path.
"Damn it!" Lahara readied her right hand, the Shard's power pulsing into her arm, but Bethany gripped her wrist.
"We can defeat these without the Shard," she said. "Don't risk using more of your magic!"
"We don't have time to wait!" Lahara countered. "I won't overdo it, I promise…"
The words had barely escaped her when a roar bellowed from the doorway. Moments later a rush of Inquisition soldiers broke through, led by Cullen. Yelling, the soldiers flanked the creatures, and Iron Bull and Cassandra joined the fray. Swiftly one of the monsters fell, but then two merged together, forming a giant bear-like beast. It lunged at the soldiers, scattering them, and the last remaining creature bolted into a side passage.
"No!" Lahara broke into a run, dragging Bethany with her. Bethany loosened her hold, and Lahara was grateful for the gesture. The mage was allowing her to use whatever means she needed to stop the creature. She was not going to see a repeat of Halamshiral.
The creature roared, carving chunks of stone from every corner it took too fast, and Lahara pushed herself to take longer strides. Her collar flickered, and it was all it could do to keep her breathing. They stumbled past shallow pools and untarnished statues, climbing then descending stairwells, until at last they broke into a courtyard again. Here lay another pool, and a series of rock steps curled around a curved basin of stone.
The dust monster howled, charging for the stairs. Lahara didn't wait, hurling a fireball just in front of it. It shattered the lower step, and the creature hesitated. That was more than enough for the Herald, who braced her right hand and yelled, tackling the beast to the ground. They rolled and tumbled, striking the shallows of the lower pool, and Lahara drove her fingers into its chest. Moments later she ripped the beating red crystal free, crushing it. The black dust dispersed, dissolving into ash, and Lahara sank onto all fours, breathing hard.
"Lara!" Bethany was at her side in an instant, clasping her fingers around the bracelet. Another segment had turned gold, leaving less than a quarter silver.
"'M good," Lahara panted, slowly rising to her feet. Bethany wrapped her arms around, and Lahara embraced her back. "That was a close one."
"Stop!"
Abelas's voice boomed from the shadows, and Lahara broke away from Bethany. A raven sliced past her cheek, and Abelas stormed behind, chasing it down. Soon after Merrill also appeared, her face flushed and breathing ragged. Swearing, Lahara sprinted up the steps of the Well, taking them two at a time.
At the summit, everything came to an abrupt halt. Morrigan shifted back to her human form, standing on the Well's edge, her arms spread. Abelas remained almost upon her, a spell quietly charging in his palm. Lahara, Bethany and Merrill also came to a jarring stop, almost bowling into one another.
"Make another move and I will destroy it," Abelas growled. "I will not hesitate!"
"I implore you, Abelas, this leaves no good outcome for either of us!" Morrigan challenged. "I do not wish to hurt you, but if you will not allow me to save my son…"
"I am merely performing my purpose!" Abelas shot back. "This is our legacy, all the knowledge and experience of those who toiled Mythal's path. All we were, all we ever have been…you cannot take that from us!"
"When did I ever try to take?" Morrigan retorted. "I am asking, Abelas, and I am not beyond begging, either." Her amber eyes darkened. "But deny me once more and I will be the one who will not hesitate!"
"You beg for a power with a high price," Abelas said. "You will be forever bound to the will of Mythal, just as we are."
"There is no price I cannot afford to see Kieran's eyes open once more," Morrigan stated. "To hear his voice, see his gentle smile, to show him all the world has yet to offer. He has fulfilled so many pieces of my life I had once discarded and thought meaningless." She met Abelas's gaze. "I would enslave myself to powers that would make the Evanuris tremble, if it meant he would be returned to me."
For the shortest of moments, a flicker of a smile crossed Abelas's face.
"Perhaps I…misjudged you," he said carefully. "You are still not worthy of the Well's privilege, do not mistake me. But I will not deny the strength of a mother's love." He let his hand drop, the spell dispersing, and stepped back. "See the Well's power is used as it was meant."
"Thank you, Abelas," Morrigan said. She turned to Lahara. "And thank you too, Inquisitor. Should any of the Well's strength be of use against Corypheus, t'is yours. This I vow."
"Sure." Lahara nodded. "I hope you know what you're letting yourself in for."
Morrigan merely nodded. She took a breath, about to turn and enter the stream of silver water, when soft chuckling caught Lahara's ear. Stunned, she snapped her head up. At first all appeared empty, until she caught the glisten of glass. An Eluvian crested the head of the Well, in seemingly perfect condition even after all these centuries.
And sitting on its frame was…
"Amber?!"