Oh my gosh, you guys! This story now has FAN ART!
A HUGE THANK YOU to the absolutely marvelous TheTasteofColors on DeviantArt for drawing Avina for us! You're amazing, woman! A swift update for you!
And hugs and cookies for everyone who favorited, reviewed, and/or is following this story! You are all so awesome!
Daylen
This is it. He's defeated all the demons protecting Sloth. He's vulnerable. Alone.
Daylen is not.
Avina is there, looking strong and furious and ready for anything. Alistair is beside her, his shield at the ready, his expression matching Avina's. Griffon too, snarling in fury as his muscles tense in preparation for his attack. Wynne is there as well, and Morrigan. They stand behind him, and for a moment he's just so proud of them... the people he didn't think had this kind of strength end up being some of the strongest people he's ever known.
The demon barely has enough time to speak a few words before they are on him.
Avina
Her eyes flutter open, breath rushing into her lungs as she gazes up at the bloody ceiling.
They did it.
A thump catches her attention. She lifts her head, only to see that the demon has fallen to the floor. Dead.
Beside her, the others start to get to their feet. Griffon gives a whine as he stretches, his tongue lolling out to the side. Alistair groans, and before she can blink he is hoisting her to her feet, placing his hands on her shoulders and asking her if she's alright.
Avina laughs. "I'm fine, Alistair. We made it."
"Not quite," Daylen corrects. "We've got to take the Litany of Andralla and kill Uldred. And any other demons left here, as well."
Avina shrugs. "After that, I'm sure killing Uldred will be like storming an Orlesian tea party."
In the end, Avina agrees to be the one to use the Litany when blood mages try to use mind control. They have enough mage fighters; it would be far more beneficial for Avina to read it than Alistair. Morrigan refused, and Daylen didn't care to push it as everyone else seemed willing. Daylen is better off fighting, and Wynne is the most experienced healer they have.
The rest of the tower seems to be a breeze compared to what they just went through. It is more of what they faced before the sloth demon, if slightly larger in number. But everyone is almost viscous in the way they tear the abominations apart with magic, sword, and teeth. They're angry that they were so easily overcome by one demon, and this anger fuels their strength as they fight their way to the top of the tower.
The staircase leading up to the Harrowing Chamber are in sight when she sees a magic barrier, keeping a familiar armored man trapped inside.
Someone she knew during her time in the Circle.
"Cullen," she gasps, hurrying up to him.
His eyes widen briefly before narrowing in suspicion. "This trick again? I know what you are. I will stay strong." He goes down on one knee.
Her eyebrows lower in confusion as she chews her lower lip. "Cullen? Don't you recognize me?"
"Only too well," he affirms, clasping his hands together in front of him in prayer and bowing his head. "How far they must have delved into my thoughts... Enough visions! If anything in you is human, kill me now and stop this game. You broke the others, but I will stay strong, for my sake... for theirs... Sifting through my thoughts, tempting me with the one thing I always wanted but could never have... Using my shame against me... my ill-advised infatuation with her... a mage, of all things. I'm so tired of these cruel jokes... these tricks... these..."
Avina is so red in the face when he finishes, she thinks she must resemble a tomato. "Uh... I don't think I should be hearing this..."
"Silence!" Cullen shouts, rising to his feet. "I'll not listen to anything you say. Now begone!" He waits a second, as if hoping for them to disappear. "Still here? But that always worked before. I close my eyes, but you are still here when I open them!"
"I am real," she insists. "I came here to help."
"I am beyond caring what you think! The Maker knows my sin, and I pray that he will forgive me," Cullen says, looking at the floor.
"Your sin?" Avina repeats. "Why would you think that? You've violated no vow, broken no law."
"When you knew me, I was an innocent," he tells her, more calmly than before. "I wanted to be a knight, but I never really thought about why we were needed. Now, my eyes have been opened. The naiveté I once had is gone forever. But I welcome the change as long as it helps me better serve the Chantry. You are a mage, and I, a Templar. It is my duty to oppose you and all that you are."
She and Cullen didn't know each other well, but he had always been so kind to her... In the hallways, he always offered her a warm smile. When he caught her after hours in the library, he never punished her or turned her over to Greagoir like some of the others would have done... She considered him a friend.
His words now cut into her, stinging in her chest and behind her eyes. He speaks to her as if she is a monster, a wild animal that needs to be caged.
Her lips tremble slightly as she listens to him, forcing herself not to cry for everything that's happened to him and the loss of his kind openness.
"Why have you returned to the tower?" Cullen asks. "How did you survive?"
"Greagoir told me what happened," she explains. "This was my home; I couldn't leave it like this."
"As it was mine. And look what they've done to it," he spits. "They deserve to die. Uldred most of all. They caged us like animals... searched for ways to break us. I'm the only one left... They turned some into... monsters. And... there was nothing I could do."
"What about Irving and the other mages?" She's almost afraid of how he will answer, but she has to know. "Where are they?"
"Uldred... he took the ones who were resisting. Irving and some of the other mages. They are in the Harrowing Chamber. The sounds coming out from there... oh, Maker... He's doing something to them. I can feel it. Something horrible..."
"His hatred of mages is so intense," Alistair murmurs, his expression something between horror and awe. "The memory of his friends' deaths must still be fresh in his mind."
"We have to move quickly," Daylen says, stepping forward. "Irving will likely die if we aren't fast enough."
"He's as good as dead," Cullen says firmly. "You must end it now, before it's too late."
Avina shakes her head frantically. "You know I can't just kill everyone, Cullen. I would never harm an innocent."
"Are you really saving anyone by taking this risk?" Cullen snaps. "To ensure this horror is ended... to guarantee that no abominations or blood mages live, you must kill everyone up there!"
"No," Avina decides. "I would rather spare Maleficarum than have the blood of innocence on my hands."
"As would I," Daylen agrees, crossing his arms.
Cullen looks as if he wants to continue arguing, but the look on Daylen's face silences it. He sighs. "Maker turn his gaze on you. I hope your compassion hasn't doomed us all."
"We need to go," Daylen urges.
Avina nods, and everyone follows her up the stairs and into the Harrowing Chamber.
It's as dark as she remembers from her Harrowing, but the smell of ozone greets her nostrils and electricity crackles in the air, making the hairs on her arms stand on end.
But the sight...
A mage she doesn't know stands on his knees before Uldred, his arms bound above him magically by two abominations as Uldred shoots lightning straight into his chest and a blood-curdling scream is torn from him.
When they rush forward, Uldred doesn't even look at them. He ends the spell and approaches the mage, the abominations forcing him to his feet. "Do you accept the gift that I offer?" Uldred asks, taking the mage's chin in his hand. Wide-eyed, the mage nods, and the abominations drop him. He falls limply to the floor.
At Uldred's nod, the two abominations move to stand beside him, and together they attack the mage at their feet with spirit energy again and again until his form twists, changes, and grows into a monstrous shape like the ones who stand beside Uldred.
A choked cry escapes Avina, and Uldred finally turns to face them.
Uldred must be one of the most terrifying things she's ever seen.
True, she's seen many horrors as a Grey Warden; darkspawn are powerful, dangerous enemies. They haunt her nightmares.
But Uldred...
She used to think that when a mage became an abomination, something about them changed. Maybe their eyes turned red. Maybe their voices changed, like Connor's. Maybe they grew fangs. Maybe they grew into the monsters that she sees now. Uldred, however, doesn't seem to have changed at all. He looks exactly as he did when she saw him at Ostagar. He looks just like everyone else.
Seeing him confirms her fears. There is no way to know when a mage might be possessed by a more powerful demon.
So if she slips up... if she were to become possessed...
"Ah, look what we have here," Uldred muses. "I remember you two. Irving's star pupil," he says to Avina, "and the Circle's biggest troublemaker."
Daylen raises an eyebrow.
"Uldred didn't think much of you then, and I certainly don't see your appeal now," he continues.
As if noticing Avina's terror, Daylen shifts his stance so that she's mostly blocked from Uldred's view, hidden in his shadow. Her hand tightens around the Litany.
"You, sir," Daylen starts. "Have destroyed my home, murdered my friends, and turned many mages into puppets. My companions and I have killed many on our way here... abominations, blood mages, desire demons... that lovely sloth demon... Now, I'm going to kill you. And enjoy every moment as the life bleeds out of you."
Avina thinks she sees fear glint in Uldred's dark eyes. "Fight, if you must," he tries to intimidate. "It will just make my victory all the sweeter."
The abominations lunge for them just as Alistair and Griffon rush forward, protecting the mages.
It's somewhat difficult for her to fight with one hand holding the Litany. Trying to focus on what Uldred is doing as he grows into a gigantic nightmare while making sure none of her companions become too badly wounded at the same time... isn't as easy as she thought, and she hadn't thought it would be easy.
Alistair takes a bad hit to the ribs and she has to stop herself from casting a healing spell on him; Wynne already said she would handle most of the healing. She grits her teeth as Wynne's magic washes over him, and his sword goes through the stomach of an abomination.
"Do you accept the gift that I offer?" Uldred's voice booms over them, amplified by the demon inside him.
She drops her staff in an instant, unfurling the scroll and reading it as loud as she can. The abominations closest to her shriek in pain, and Uldred stumbles. Avina picks up her staff again.
The fight continues. Alistair and Griffon need the most healing, but Wynne keeps up with their injuries. Morrigan laughs, and Avina nearly screams when she sees her change into a giant spider.
Of course she knew Morrigan was a shapechanger... but seeing it...
And spiders. Blech! She hates spiders.
Despite her dislike of the creatures, she cannot deny that Morrigan is quite the force with eight legs and venomous fangs.
Daylen's yell of pain jerks Avina's eyes towards him, in time to see an abomination rip it's claws out of his midsection. He cracks it in the head with his staff, but the damage has been done.
Before she realizes it, her staff lights up, and her magic races across the chamber and right into Daylen's body. His flesh knits together with the help of her magic, and for a moment he meets her eyes, looking stunned.
"Do you accept the gift that I offer?"
Avina screams in fury, reading off the Litany as lightning shoots out of Daylen's fingers.
Morrigan changes again, picking up her discarded staff as Uldred rounds on them. Daylen's lightning hasn't stopped, a continuous storm of mana channeling into Uldred. Uldred roars, swiping at him, but Daylen ducks to the side and Morrigan forces some of his energy out and into her body.
Uldred is moving in a flurry now, desperately trying to knock them back as they fire spell after spell. Alistair and Griffon dance around his ankles, their attacks not enough to kill him but enough to be painful. Daylen presses the attack, though she suspects he's running so low on mana he's only a few spells away from exhaustion.
The Litany renders his mind control powerless, and without it he's quickly losing strength.
Avina drops the Litanny, and with both hands sends a wave of heat so intense she fears she may be sunburned, casts an inferno that constricts around Uldred's head.
He shrieks, swatting uselessly at the flames, but they consume him.
Then, he stops struggling. His massive arms drop, his body swaying. "Get back!" Avina cries. Griffon dashes to her side and Alistair skitters a few steps back, never taking his eyes off of the creature.
The thing that used to be Uldred falls, and the floor shakes with his dead weight.
It's over.
Alistair
After half leading, half carrying Irving down all the ten bazillion steps that are the Circle Tower, they finally reach the doors, and when the Templars hear Irving's voice, they open.
Greagoir is there to greet them, looking happier than Alistair would have thought he would be.
"Irving?" Greagoir breathes. "Maker's breath. I did not expect to see you alive."
"It is over, Greagoir," Irving assures him. "Uldred is dead."
Cullen steps forward. "Uldred tortured these mages, hoping to break their wills and turn them into abominations. We don't know how many of them have turned."
Irving turns to him. "What?! Don't be ridiculous!"
"Of course he'll say that, he might be a blood mage!" Cullen accuses. "Don't you know what they did? I won't let this happen again."
Greagoir crosses his arms. "I am the knight-commander here, not you."
"And what does the knight-commander think, then?" Daylen asks.
"We have won back the tower," Greagoir says evenly. "I will accept Irving's assurance that all is well."
"But they may have demons within them!" Cullen protests. "Lying dormant... lying in wait!"
"Enough," Greagoir commands. "I have already made my decision."
Cullen looks angry, but there is nothing he can do and he walks off, frowning deeply.
"Thank you," Greagoir says to Avina. She looks stunned, as if she thinks he means to talk to someone else. "You have proven yourself a friend of both the Circle and the Templars."
She blinks, blushes an adorable pink, and scratches the back of her head. "I... well, we need help. With the Blight."
"With the Circle restored, our duty is to watch the mages. They are free to help you, however. Go speak with them."
Avina nods.
"I must make a sweep of the tower. Please excuse me," Greagoir says politely. "And Irving? Good to have you back."
"Ah," Irving chuckles. "I'm sure we'll be at each other's throats again in no time."
Greagoir smiles and walks off.
Irving sighs. "Here we are, the tower in disarray, the Circle nearly annihilated... though it could have been much, much worse. I am glad you arrived when you did. It's almost as though the Maker Himself sent you."
He can tell she doesn't think the same, but she smiles. "I'm glad I could help."
"From your conversation with Greagoir, it seems that you came here seeking allies. The least we can do is help you against the darkspawn. I would hate to survive this only to be overcome by the Blight."
Avina looks somewhat unsure. "But there are so few mages left."
"You of all people should know that we are not to be underestimated. The mages you see here will be a great help to you. You have my word, as first enchanter. The Circle will join the Grey Wardens in the fight."
Wynne has been silent this whole time, but now she speaks up. "Irving, I have a request. I see leave to follow the Grey Wardens."
Irving's brow furrows. "Wynne... we need you here. The Circle needs you."
Wynne only smiles, shaking her head. "I appreciate the sentiment, but the Circle will do fine without me. The Circle has you. These Wardens are brave and good, and capable of great things. If they will accept my help, I will help them accomplish their goals."
"You were never one to stay in the tower when there was adventure to be had elsewhere," Irving recalls fondly.
"Why stay when I can be of service elsewhere?"
"Then I give you leave to follow the Grey Warden," he allows. "but know that you always have a place here. There is much to be done here, and I must go. You must forgive me for not being a proper host."
Before the first enchanter can walk away, Daylen stops him. "Could the Circle travel to Redcliffe to save a possessed child?"
"A child is possessed? But... killing the demon would mean killing the-" then he catches on. "Unless you intend to enter the Fade... Yes... yes, it can be done with a group of mages. I shall gather what mages I can we shall leave promptly. A life is at stake."
Daylen
The trip back Redcliffe is a lot more light-hearted than the trip to the Circle had been. They are triumphant, wearing their bruises and scars with pride as they make their way back, cheerful conversation in the air.
He glances at Morrigan sideways. "So I'm curious," he drawls, "did you grow up in the Wilds?"
She frowns. "Why do you ask me such questions? I do not probe you for pointless information, do I?"
He laughs. "You can probe me anytime," he says suggestively, waggling his eyebrows at her.
That earns him a small chuckled. "Beg pardon, then, while I jump for joy. What is it you asked? If I 'grew up' in the Wilds? A curious question. Where else would you picture me? For many years it was just Flemeth and I. The Wilds and it's creatures were more real to me than Flemeth's tales of the world of man. In time, I grew curious. I left the Wilds to explore what lay beyond. Never for long. Brief forays into a civilized wilderness."
"And you always returned to the Wilds?" he asks.
"Would you not do the same?" she counters. "Your world is an unforgiving and cold place. The Wilds I hail from is home to me, and I a natural denizen. For all that I had been taught, however, the truth of the civilized lands proved to be... overwhelming. I was unfamiliar with so much. So confident and bold was I, yet there was much that Flemeth could never have prepared me for."
"Very daring," Daylen comments. "That sounds like you."
She giggles. "Equal parts daring and foolhardy, perhaps. Only once was I accused of being a Witch of the Wilds, and that by a Chasind who happened to be traveling with a merchant caravan. He pointed and gasped and began shouting in his strange language, and most assumed he was casting some curse upon me. I acted the terrified girl, and naturally he was arrested."
"That was quick thinking."
"Men are always willing to believe two things about a woman," she informs him, "one, that she is weak, and two, that she finds him attractive. I played the weakling and batted my eyelashes at the captain of the guard. Child's play. The point being that I could move through human lands fairly easily. Whatever humans think a Witch of the Wild looks like, 'tis not I. Not that I did not have trouble. There are things about human society which have always puzzled me. Such as the touching; why all the touching for a simple greeting?"
He grins at her. "Were you upset by all the bad touching?"
"Hmm. At least with that sort of touching I would have been able to intuit the intent with far greater ease. There were many nuances that Flemeth could never tell me of. When to look into another's eyes, how to eat at a table, how to bargain without offending... none of these things I knew. I still do not understand it all, truth be told. But, then, I gave up long ago any hope of doing so. When I returned to the Wilds last, I swore to Flemeth that I had no intention of leaving again."
"Well," he says. "I'm glad it worked out this way, at least."
She smirks. "Yes? Let's ignore the entire darkspawn threat and the presence of a simpleton as one of your two remaining Grey Warden allies, then. Not that I lack appreciation for the intent of your comment. Thank you."
Their conversation is cut off when a woman with light brown hair in a low class red and brown dress runs up to them, looking terrified. "Oh, thank the Maker," she pants. "We need help! They attacked the wagon; please help us! Follow me! I'll take you to them!" And she doesn't even wait for them to follow her before she runs back toward where she came from.
He meets Avina's eyes, shrugs, and they follow.
As they move closer, Daylen can see an overturned wagon, and a dead ox before it. A lone man stands beside it, but he doesn't seem to belong to this scene.
For one, he's wearing armor. Secondly, he's armed. Thirdly, most merchants aren't elves with tattooed faces.
He's proven right when moments later, when the dark-skinned elf gives a signal, several people step out of hiding and into their line of sight. One of the giant trees behind them falls, forcing a few of them to jump out of the way while the elf and the woman who brought them here prepare to attack.
"The Grey Wardens die here," the elf snarls.
Tel'abelas.
Next chapter: The Stone Prisoner