Dorian absently worked at the shoulder of his armor as he surveyed the Inquisition encampment. That clash with the last wave of Venatori had taken place shortly after Cullen had led the bulk of Inquisition troops towards the main encampment for Corypheus' forces, which made for a rather nerve-wracking encounter for those left behind. Thankfully the last of the Orlesians reinforcements had arrived to strengthen the Inquisition troops guarding the supplies and healers' tents, and the Venatori had been driven off. Still, the encounter had driven home to Dorian just how dispersed the fighting in the Arbor Wilds would be, especially compared to the relatively straightforward siege at Adamant.

The nature of the battle made information gathering a challenge, which was why Dorian still lingered in the camp, awaiting word of Corypheus' whereabouts. It also meant that essentially everyone but him was busy, a situation he didn't care for in the slightest. The sooner he could stop Corypheus, the better, after all.

"I hate waiting," Dorian muttered under his breath.

"What was that, Inquisitor?"

Dorian waved off the question. "Nothing, Jim. Have all the wounded been taken to the healers' tents?"

"I'll go check, Inquisitor!" Scout Jim gave Dorian an earnest salute, then turned and ran towards the tents himself.

"I didn't mean you should—" Realizing that Jim was already out of earshot, Dorian cut himself off with a chuckle. Sometimes he forgot just how eager Jim was to fulfill his duties. The chuckle quickly faded, however, as Dorian's gaze returned to the camp. The fortifications remained at best incomplete, and that worried him. What if—

Again he stifled himself. There would always be a What if, as he well knew.

With a sigh, Dorian instinctively looked around for Cullen, or at least for the lion's helm which had come to serve as Cullen's beacon during the march to the Arbor Wilds. For all that Cullen thought it a bit overwrought, it had definitely become something of a favorite of the troops, and earned Cullen the nickname of the Lion of the Inquisition. When he remembered that Cullen had already left, Dorian laughed softly at himself and murmured, "You are a lovesick fool, aren't you, Inquisitor?"

Given how his thoughts had trended, it wasn't surprising that when he heard Cullen's name, he half-turned to focus on its origin. That turned out to be a woman dressed in a soldier's uniform talking to an Inquisition agent, both resting by a water barrel outside the mess tent.

"Where's Commander Cullen?" a woman asked, tugging her small round helm off to wipe the sweat away from her brow.

"He led the charge at dawn," the man told her, even as he poured himself another cup of water. The sweat gleamed on his face as well, and he pulled a rough cloth from one pocket to wipe the moisture away. "Hasn't stopped fighting since. The man hasn't slept more than an hour two days running."

The woman grimaced as she put her helm back on. "Andraste, give me strength. Or make me that young again."

"Won't happen again for either of us, I fear. Best to leave the worst of the fighting to the young 'uns." The man patted the messenger pouch at his waist. "Now if you'll excuse me."

Young ones. Dorian pursed his lips as he watched the man set into motion, considering how old one would have to be to consider Cullen young. Of course, Cullen was the same age as himself, and he felt like he'd already lived a lifetime. Thirty years was both not long enough, and an eternity when they'd endured what they'd experienced…

"Inquisitor."

Dorian jumped slightly, his thoughts dashed by the polite interruption, and turned to face Leliana with a chuckle. "I was just thinking about seeking you out. I do hope you have a report for me about Corypheus?"

She held up a piece of paper with a slight smile. "Yes, Inquisitor. Our scouts have reported that Corypheus has been spotted heading towards an elven ruin to the north."

"Any sign of that dragon of his?"

"No, Inquisitor. At least, not that my agents saw. They reported only that he was traveling with a party of bespelled Grey Wardens." She paused and looked away as she pressed a finger to her lips, clearing her throat vigorously before turning to speak to Dorian again. "At any rate, I have alerted those who will go with you in pursuit of him to be ready."

"Including—Ah, here she is," Dorian said as Morrigan approached them.

Surprisingly, however, Morrigan simply gave Dorian a nod before turning to Leliana. "You should not be here," she said with a frown. "You should be in the healers' tents."

Dorian's eyebrows rose. "Are you all right, Leliana?" She did look a trifle pale, he supposed, but nothing seemed too pressing.

"I am not made of glass, Morrigan," Leliana said acerbically. "I'm perfectly capable of coordinating with my agents."

Morrigan's face grew stern. "Go. And make sure you eat something. You haven't been able to keep anything down the entire trip here."

"Leliana, if you're ill, you should take care of yourself," Dorian urged her. "I'm sure Charter can handle matters while you recover. Perhaps the healers can assist you with something noxious and unpleasant."

Leliana smiled faintly. "Thank you, Inquisitor, but it will pass." She gave Dorian the piece of paper. "There is the last known trajectory for Corypheus."

"Thank you. Now shoo," he said gesturing towards the healers' tents. "I insist. It certainly isn't going to get any easier from here on out, and we've been on the march for days now. A little nap before things really get hairy won't hurt anyone."

She gave him a little bow, then hurried towards the tents. As he looked after her with a frown, a thought about her symptoms tried and failed to get his attention. "Do you think she might be—"

"We should be going, Inquisitor," Morrigan interrupted quickly, gesturing to the north. "Let us gather your companions and be on our way. Corypheus will not wait for our arrival, and we must reach the eluvian before he does."

Odd. What's wrong with saying Leliana might be tired? With a little mental shrug, Dorian headed towards where the others would be getting ready. "You are right, of course. Let's get going."

As they hurried across the camp, Morrigan asked, "May I see that report?" After Dorian handed it to her, she studied it and nodded. "Given this information, I believe Corypheus is going to the ruins of the Temple of Mythal."

"Where you said the eluvian is most likely to be," Dorian noted. "Mythal is one of their Creators, isn't she? I recall Mailani mentioning the name."

"Indeed, Inquisitor." Morrigan returned the paper to him, which he tucked away in one of his many pouches. "And her Temple is a place of worship out of elven legend. If Corypheus seeks it, then the eluvian he covets lies within."

Suddenly a loud explosion sounded from their left, and Dorian instinctively pulled Morrigan behind the nearest pile of crates as he looked around for the source. "Damn. Another Venatori assault, I'd wager."

"Or more Venatori destroying everything in their path to find that eluvian," she pointed out. "Let us hope we reach this temple before the entire forest is reduced to ash."

"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" He sighed, then set into motion again. "Ah. There they are." He nodded ahead to those who awaited them. "And they seem prepared."

Morrigan frowned as she looked at those who awaited them. "Must we bring along Alistair?" she asked in a guarded tone.

"He has more of a personal reason to go after Corypheus than most," Dorian mused. "Or are you referring to his ability to fight? He is still strong even with only one arm."

"It is simply the memories, Inquisitor," Morrigan said quietly, then fell completely silent as they drew within earshot of the others.

Dorian saw Alistair give Morrigan a wary sidelong glance before turning to Dorian. "I take it we have a lead?"

"Indeed. Cassandra, Alistair, take the front. Varric, flank us. I don't want another sniper picking someone off like they almost did with Jim during the march yesterday. Solas, Morrigan, with me in the center to maintain our barriers. I don't need to remind you of the danger of magical attacks from the Venatori." He moved to Cassandra and pulled out the paper. "This is our destination," he told her, pointing to the ruins of the Temple of Mythal.

She studied the paper with pursed lips. "We will be meeting Inquisition troops along the way," she noted. "Hopefully they will have updates about Corypheus as we go."

"That would be a pleasant surprise," Dorian said with a chuckle, then tugged his staff from his back and twirled it into place. "Time to head out."

It might not have been a charge for the history books, but Dorian felt as if something significant occurred when they left the environs of the Inquisition's camp. He responded to the salutes of those they passed, but all too soon, the forest swallowed them.

For the first stretch beneath the trees, it truly felt as if the ancient primordial forest had done just that. The sounds of battle, ever constant around the camp, grew faint, and for a long while all they heard was the crunch of their footsteps in the undergrowth. Dorian almost came to enjoy it—after all, it wasn't the scorching heat of the Forbidden Oasis or the deathly cold of Emprise du Lion. For the barest of moments, it was simple to believe that they were out on a pleasant little stroll through the woods.

At least, until the first lightning bolt arced from within a small copse of trees to one side and shattered on the barriers they'd erected around their little group.

From that point forward, every step taken proved to be a step earned with magic, blade, and bolt. Months of fighting together had given Dorian and his core team almost effortless synchronization, and Alistair and Morrigan soon fell into the proper rhythm to fight alongside them. There were times that Dorian missed Bull's huge presence at his side, but he knew that the Chargers were more effective in their work with the Templars, mowing down entire swathes of Venatori on the outskirts of the larger battle.

Of course, Cassandra was no less stalwart than Bull. If anything, she was a moving bulwark all on her own, and Alistair's Templar abilities filled in any gaps they might have lacked without the towering former Qunari in their ranks.

Down and into the forest they fought, felling wave after wave of Venatori and Red Templars. About halfway to their destination, however, Dorian noticed a new type of opponent appear. "Who is that?" he yelled to Morrigan, even as his bolt found its target, a lithe form dressed in skin-hugging armor of a sort he didn't recognize. It certainly wasn't Tevinter, past or present.

As Morrigan shook her head, Solas called out, "Their armor is elven in make, and their magic is elven as well. They must ward the ruins in these woods."

"Elves, here?" Dorian asked incredulously. "What are the chances of that?"

As the last opponent fell, Solas moved to the body of the fallen, turning him over as Dorian moved to his side. "Apparently very high, Inquisitor," Solas said as a hood fell back to reveal long, pointed ears.

"Hmm. I do hope they know we are not aligned with Corypheus," Dorian said with a frown. "Perhaps we could even work with them."

"If they defend these woods from intruders, it would be difficult to obtain their alliance," Solas mused. "After all, from their perspective, we are the intruders as much as the Venatori."

Dorian grimaced. "True. Still, it's something to keep in mind if the opportunity arises." Shaking his head, he pointed his staff forward. "Let's keep going. We have a lot of ground to cover before we reach that temple. It would be nice if we didn't have to fight every Maker-bedamned step of the way, though."

Sadly, it appeared as if Dorian would not get his wish. The only time they were spared a fight with either Venatori or the mysterious elves was when they ran into Inquisition forces already fighting the same and could move past without being slowed themselves. Once or twice they were able to replenish their supplies as they intercepted a quick-moving troop of Leliana's scouts, but overall, the entirety of the Arbor Wilds seemed to have been swallowed in war.

It wasn't until they reached a large, shallow ford in the middle of the Wilds that Dorian realized just how true that impression was. Before him raged a battle made of dozens of groups from all sides: Inquisition, Venatori, Red Templars, and elven. "Maker," he breathed. "That's going to be complicated to cross."

"There," Cassandra said suddenly, pointing ahead. "Commander Cullen."

Dorian's eyes snapped in the direction she indicated, swiftly finding his Commander's very unique helmet in the midst of a knot of fighting. "We should make our way there," he decided. "Besides, we have to battle through this mess somehow. Best to do it in the company of Inquisition forces."

"Of course, I am certain that is the only reason you wish to seek out the Commander," Cassandra said in a tone that was far too bland. Before Dorian could do more than glare at her, she had already set into motion, thus forcing everyone to move forward.

Given the size of the battle, however, it was no easy or simple matter to reach Cullen, though it was equally unfeasible to avoid the area due to the intense fighting. By the time they reached the Commander, a great deal of the battle had died down, leaving only a few stragglers in Inquisition armor standing around catching their breaths.

"Well, that was bracing," Dorian said as he reached Cullen. "How fare the troops, Commander?"

"They are holding up well, Inquisitor, as I knew they would," Cullen said as he surveyed the watery ford around them. The lion helmet gave his voice an odd echoing quality, as if he were speaking from a distance, a rather odd sensation given he was mere feet away. Of the bodies which littered the battlefield, most appeared to be Red Templars, though some Venatori lay among the dead alongside even fewer of the unknown elves. "Corypheus seems to be using Red Templars as shock troops, throwing them in first and in numbers with the Venatori following in their wake. We have been unable to ascertain who the elves are, but it is clear they view all intruders as unwelcome."

"How would you feel if a large number of hostile combatants suddenly appeared on your doorstep?" Solas interjected. "Of all of us, the elves are the only ones defending their own."

"A pity they view us as a danger," Dorian said with a sigh.

"From their view, I would imagine no one may be trusted," Solas mused. "They defend places sacred to their people. In their eyes, we are no different than Corypheus."

Dorian ran his hand through his hair, eager to wipe away some of the sweat tickling his scalp. "Perhaps that may change, if we could but find someone with whom to discuss the matter." He looked over to where Alistair had knelt to inspect a fallen foe. "Find something, Warden?"

"I know this man," Alistair reported, a frown on his face, then pulled him over so that the Grey Warden griffon crest on his chestplate was visible to those around. "An Orlesian Warden who left on his Calling just when I was beginning to suspect foul play."

"Which would explain some of the Grey Wardens spotted with Corypheus, given how many we freed from his clutches at Adamant," Dorian mused. "Commander, have there been other Wardens on the field?"

Cullen nodded. "Yes. Thankfully they have those red eyes from the spell of enthrallment to Corypehus, or we wouldn't have been able to distinguish them from the Wardens allied with the Inquisition. There seems to be at least one with every major group of the enemy. Why, I'm not sure."

"Odd. Our scouts reported that Corypheus himself was moving with a group of Grey Wardens, but nothing about them being with the Venatori or the Red Templars." Brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of it, Dorian finally shrugged. "Perhaps Corypheus just wanted to—"

A deafening roar suddenly echoed across the ford, sending a chill down Dorian's spine and, from the reactions of those around them, everyone else's as well. Cullen immediately drew his sword and crowded close to Dorian, looking around in confusion. "What—"

"Inquisitor," Alistair said, pushing his way forward to set himself near Dorian as well. "I recognize that sound. Brace yourselves!"

The trees to the west began to thrash, and Dorian could make out a shadowy form fighting its way through the branches. As he registered the sheer size of the creature, he swallowed harshly. "Is that a giant? It doesn't sound quite right."

"No," Alistair said grimly as he readied his sword. "Ogre." Raising his voice, he shouted, "Darkspawn incoming!"

When the ogre burst from the foliage, Dorian gaped at it for a moment. He'd fought hurlocks and genlocks throughout Thedas, but he'd never seen anything like that. It was as tall—or perhaps taller—than the giants in the Emerald Graves, but loomed twice as wide and conveyed an infinite sense of rage and violence in every move. Its red eyes seemed to glow with malice, and one of its hands could easily crush a man in armor. "I think we've finally found something worse than a Great Bear!" he shouted as he quickly threw a barrier over everyone nearby.

The ogre, however, was only the vanguard. From the forest behind it, a veritable horde of smaller darkspawn appeared, howling and waving their weapons in the air as they surged around the ogre towards the Inquisition forces. They struck the gathered soldiers hard, with Alistair shouting what advice he could to those nearby, but a battle which had seemed to be all but over suddenly turned into a fight for their lives.

The ogre tore through them ferociously, knocking people dozens of yards away as it surged through the battlefield. Arrows and bolts bounced off its hide, and even the strongest of spells only seemed to irritate it. It did bleed, thankfully; it was just incredibly strong. After a quick consultation between Alistair, Cassandra, and Cullen, all three converged on the ogre, surrounding it so that they could coordinate their attacks.

Worried as he was for Cullen, Dorian turned his attention to his own section of the battle, sending off volley after volley of spells to re-animate the Red Templar monstrosities and send them to attack the darkspawn. It certainly helped, as the red crystal behemoths gave even the darkspawn pause, and eventually Dorian found some time to catch his breath while finding some shelter under a half-fallen arch of the bridge which had once crossed the river.

In that moment of inaction, however, the question inevitably sprang up in his mind: where had the darkspawn come from? Especially the ogre, a creature they'd never encountered when the darkspawn had wandered the hills and beaches of the Storm Coast, or even when he'd ventured into the Deep Roads. Of course, given the bulk of the thing, perhaps it simply hadn't been able to fit through the small doors leading to the surface or to those sections of the Deep Roads.

Thank the Maker.

Having caught his breath, Dorian emerged from his shelter and quickly surveyed the battle. The darkspawn's unexpected appearance after an already intense battle had, unfortunately, taken its toll, and Dorian winced as he saw how many bodies lying on the ground bore the Inquisition's insignia. Though the troops had rallied sufficiently to fight back, the numbers simply weren't on their side, and Dorian launched himself quickly back into the fight.

If Corypheus couldn't take them out, he'd be damned if he let a pack of darkspawn do it.

Bravery could only take them so far, however. After a few minutes, Dorian realized that, outside of the trio of warriors keeping the ogre busy, the remaining Inquisition forces had been forced into a circle with their backs to each other. A chill ran down his spine as he realized how much that resembled several last stands he'd read about in the history books, and looked around desperately to see if perhaps a cache of Inquisition forces remained who could reinforce their ranks. As he did so, his eyes fell on the fight with the ogre, and on the comparatively small figures fighting it.

It was clear from its noticeable limp that the ogre had been weakened, but it had not yet gone down. As Dorian watched, Alistair darted forward and then back, attracting the ogre's attention while the other two moved in to actually damage it. But they'd been fighting for too long, and their weariness showed in their movements—or maybe even the ogre could learn new tricks. Whatever the reason, even as Cullen and Cassandra slashed its ankle and leg in a bid to fell it at last, the ogre suddenly lashed out at them. Cassandra raised her shield in time to only be knocked a few yards away, but the ogre's paw wrapped completely around Cullen and lifted him high into the sky.

As Dorian screamed wordlessly, the ogre slammed Cullen into the ground, then lifted him and slammed him down again. Dorian could almost feel the impacts on his own body, not realizing he was struggling against the people holding him until one of the soldiers yelled, "Inquisitor! Please! You can't help him!"

The words hit him like a punch in his gut as the ogre tossed Cullen aside to lie in a still, crumpled heap near Cassandra. Dorian's eyes remained fixed on him, drawn away only when he heard a few startled oaths from his own men and realized that there was more rustling coming from the same woods which had divulged the darkspawn. When the sound of a horn rang out over the battlefield, however, the darkspawn surrounding them—including the ogre—all snarled at the woods before racing towards them with weapons and fists held high.

Dorian forced himself to look away from Cullen to seek out the source of the horn blast, scanning the surrounding hills before his eyes locked onto the darkened outline of a man standing on a low ridge overlooking the small valley. A shift in the clouds above suddenly lit the same ridge with a bright shaft of sunlight, bringing the man into abrupt visibility and glinting off the horn as the man sounded another resounding call.

As a flash of recognition swept through Dorian, Loghain drew his sword and and then brought it down in one smooth motion, dropping the horn to the ground as he bellowed, "Charge!"

When a large company of blue and silver clad warriors burst from the woods, a ragged cheer rose from the beleaguered Inquisition troops. The cheer proved to be the final clue to Dorian's deadened mind: the new force in the battle were Grey Wardens, though where they had come from Dorian had no idea.

It didn't matter, though. As the Inquisition troops surged forward to join the battle with renewed vigor, Dorian dropped his staff and ran to Cullen, only to find Cassandra already holding him in her lap.

"Is he—" Dorian managed to get those two words out before his throat closed, and almost wept with relief when Cassandra shook her head.

"But he is badly injured." Her hand lightly tapped the bent metal of Cullen's breastplate. "Help me get this off him. I fear it hinders his breathing."

Quickly Dorian knelt and began to work on the buckles keeping it in place. "Of course." As he worked on the buckles, a soft groan of pain came from Cullen's lips, and Dorian worked faster. "We'll have to get him back to the encampment. We have to-"

As the breastplate fell away, Cassandra's hand fell on Dorian's wrist, bringing his words to a halt. "We must keep in pursuit of Corypheus," she said in a tone both firm and gentle. "He must remain our first priority."

Dorian met her gaze, well aware that his eyes glimmered with tears, but also unable to deny her logic. When the ogre's roar suddenly swept over the ford, he jerked his gaze away, remembering all at once that that battle wasn't over.

His gaze fell onto the ogre to find that a dark-haired man in Warden armor now stood on top of its shoulders. With practiced ease, the archer pointed his bow downwards and unleashed two arrows with one swift motion. Suddenly the ogre's roar turned into a gurgle as he reached up to claw at the arrows embedded deep in its eyes, and the man leapt away, landing on two feet and with another arrow already aimed at the ogre's head.

It proved to be unnecessary, however, as Alistair and Loghain converged on the ogre and knocked it from its feet at last. Quickly Loghain climbed on top of it and brought the point of his sword down into its throat. With a grim twist, the ogre's struggles abruptly ceased, and stillness finally fell over the battlefield.

As the archer relaxed his bow and glanced towards Dorian, recognition dawned through the fog of adrenaline and anxiety. "Nathaniel," Dorian breathed. As Loghain heaved himself off the ogre, Dorian nodded to him as well. "Loghain. Your arrival was timely, and much appreciated."

"It would seem Nathaniel was right," Loghain murmured as he walked over to Dorian. His gaze fell on Cullen with a frown. "Maker. He's not—"

"No. But he needs to go to the healers." Dorian blinked. "What do you mean, Nathaniel was right?"

"I've learned some disturbing things since we last spoke," Nathaniel said. "And Loghain confirmed my worst fears. If Amell and the Architect are one, then that means the Architect's allies would be Amell's allies. Which means darkspawn."

Dorian's eyes widened. "You think Amell had something to do with darkspawn here?"

"I'm certain of it." Nathaniel nodded to Cullen. "Let me and the other Wardens take him back to the camp. Knowing Amell and his preference to attack where it's unexpected, he'll probably send darkspawn there. This way we can protect the Commander until he gets to the healers and be ready to defend the camp."

"Yes." Dorian quickly rose to his feet. "Yes, perfect, thank you."

"Your troops will need a leader in the meantime," Loghain said gently.

A replacement for Cullen? No. Dorian's mind rebelled at the very thought of it. Still, Loghain was right: the battle was still ongoing, and they would need someone to look to for strategy now that Cullen was hurt.

"Cassandra," he said, looking down at her. "Remain here and work with Loghain to coordinate the rest of the battle in the Wilds. Nathaniel and the Grey Wardens will escort Cullen back to camp while I take Varric and the others with me to go after Corypheus." It hurt more than he expected, to send Cullen off to his fate without being there by his side, but Cassandra had spoken truly.

Corypheus had to take priority.

It was far more painful to take the physical steps back, away from Cullen, and let them do what they could for him. He saw Solas kneel next to Cullen and touch his forehead, an action accompanied by the tingle of magic, and smiled gratefully at the mage once he stood. Soon enough, though, his little party was ready to move on.

Varric fell in beside Dorian as they walked towards the tunnel leading north from the ford, in the direction of the Temple. "He'll pull through, Sparkler, don't you worry," Varric said in a low voice. "He's gone to the Void and back before."

"I know," Dorian murmured, then clenched his hands. "I just…would prefer to be with him this time."

"Yeah." Varric reached out and patted Dorian's elbow. "Look at it this way. The sooner we take care of Corypheus, the sooner we can get back to him."

A simple statement, yes. Very simple. But, as Dorian knew all too well, simple did not mean easy.

As they emerged from the tunnel into the light at the other end, Dorian held up his hand in warning as he saw the bodies of Red Templars and Venatori littering the path ahead, riddled with elven arrows and left to lie where they perished. When he heard a shout from ahead, he lowered himself into a crouching position and worked his way to a conveniently placed railing that would allow him to observe the proceedings.

Below he saw two groups in an obvious standoff at the close end of a long bridge which led into some impressive ruins on the other side of a vast ravine. Before he could assess whether or not those ruins were the Temple they sought, however, his gaze snapped back to a towering figure standing within one of the groups: Corypheus.

The emaciated Magister stood amidst a cluster of mixed Venatori and Grey Wardens, his head and shoulders clearly visible above the others as one of the guardian warriors yelled at him in elvish. The woman at Corypheus' side—Calpernia, Dorian realized—looked up at Corypheus. "It would appear they wish to keep you from the Well of Sorrows, master."

Well of Sorrows? He looked to Morrigan, who gave a helpless little shrug. Is that what the elves call the eluvian? Certainly the elves on the bridge seemed determined to keep Corypheus and his ilk away from the Temple. Still, an uneasy feeling awoke in the pit of Dorian's stomach as Corypheus stepped forward.

"These are but remnants. They will not keep us from the Well of Sorrows," Corypheus declared even as he strode towards the bridge with terrible purpose.

As the elves retreated before him across the bridge, Dorian felt the tingle of magic just before it burst from two large crystals set in the first two pillars on the sides of the bridge. He saw Corypheus glance at the pillars, then clearly disregard them as he strode forward. "Be honored! Witness death at the hands of a new god!"

Dorian's eyes widened as that energy shot out to envelope Corypheus, mostly because it was powerful enough that it would have instantly killed anyone else wrapped in that white-hot glow. As it was, though, Corypheus simply grunted and reached out to grab the head of the elf standing in front of him with one enormous hand, lifting the hapless man high before crushing his skull. The magic from the pillars continued to pulse into Corypheus as he did so, rendering him into a skeleton outlined by white light for an uncomfortable instant before the magic suddenly exploded outwards in a titanic burst of energy.

Dorian instinctively shielded his face from the light, and by the time the dots had stopped dancing in front of his eyes, the carnage below was clear to see. Corypheus was gone, and many bodies, including all the elves and several Grey Wardens, littered the ground below. Movement on the bridge caught his attention, however, and he squinted in time to see Calpernia pause to look back with a smirk before disappearing into the ruin with a group of Venatori and Red Templars, leaving the huge doors to close slowly behind them.

Pushing himself upright, Dorian hurried down to the courtyard. Calpernia's expression did not seem to indicate that Corypheus was dead, after all, and as he poked the pile of ash and bone left between the pillars, an uncomfortable feeling of deja vu fluttered deep in the pit of his stomach. A pile of ash and bone...

And all at once, it hit him: he'd seen this before, but it hadn't been his memory.

The hackles on his neck stood to attention as Dorian turned towards the nearest fallen Warden, and the nagging sensation bloomed into a full blown warning as a dark cloud rose from the remains of Corypheus' body. When the dead Warden twitched, Dorian danced away from the pile of ash, gesturing to the others to follow him. "Across the bridge! Now!"

"It cannot be!" Morrigan gasped as the Warden's body slowly began to rise, accompanied by a particularly virulent oath from Alistair.

"Quickly! We've not a moment to lose!" Dorian urged, suiting action to words as he led the way towards the doors opposite them. They skidded to a halt in front of the closed doors, with Varric and Alistair hastily putting their shoulders to it as Dorian turned to keep an eye on Corypheus.

As the body of the Warden stood, it changed and shifted with grisly sounds of cracking bone and popping flesh, growing to the height and leanness of Corypheus. Within moments Corypheus had arisen once more, roaring at the sky as he lifted his arms to the heavens, and Dorian felt the heavy burden of doom fall on his shoulders.

"Venhedis!" he muttered under his breath. How can we defeat something which cannot be killed? Dorian slammed a fist into his other hand in a frustration familiar to him, since he felt it every time he pondered the same conundrum of Amell and the Architect. He stared at Corypheus as the Magister lowered his arms and stared across the bridge, his breath coming to a halt as their eyes met for a split second. He'd never actually been this close to Corypheus, after all, so he wasn't prepared for what he saw: not hate, but a lofty arrogance so chilling that it almost felt as if his bones had turned to ice. In that moment, Dorian knew to the core of his being that Corypheus didn't just claim to be a god—he believed it.

Which made him all the more dangerous, Dorian knew, because it meant he would never abandon his quest until he was eradicated.

Abruptly a terrifying roar ripped through the canyon, and Dorian snapped his gaze away from Corypheus to its source, eyes widening as the looming silhouette of Corypheus' dragon reared above the rock ridge opposite the Temple entrance. Dorian spared a glance behind him and swore extensively when he saw that the door had only been opened a few inches by this point, as if Varric and Alistair were pushing against some unseen force trying to keep the entrance to the Temple closed. Turning back to the dragon, Dorian swallowed harshly as he saw the dragon launch itself forward, clearly aiming for the party on the bridge.

They were trapped.

Even as terror rose in him, however, the hairs on Dorian's neck suddenly rose in atavistic warning. "Down!" he yelled to the others, acting on instinct as he dropped to the ground in front of the door. "Quickly!"

As his companions followed suit despite the swiftly approaching menace of the dragon, the reason for Dorian's warning quickly became apparent as a ball of red-tinged energy the size of a gurn tore through the air and struck the dragon from the other side of the bridge. A deafening shriek of pain from the dragon robbed Dorian of thought, and he stared up in shock as the dragon writhed in the grip of the spell. He only had a moment to brace himself before the dragon's heavy body slammed into the bridge mere yards away from the doors, sending an echoing boom through the valley he knew would be heard for miles around. The boom turned into an equally loud rumble as the ancient bridge collapsed beneath the dragon's limp body, sending sections of it hurtling into the canyon below.

It took Dorian a moment to regain his breath from the shock of the dragon's impact, and he glanced back to see if they could escape yet. The breaking of the bridge had, unfortunately, buckled the stones by the doors, and Dorian saw that it would take even longer to open them now. Without hesitation, Alistair and Varric scrambled to their feet and set their shoulder to the door on the side with the least damage, struggling to push it open, while Solas and Morrigan did what they could to aid with magic. Dorian breathed a little easier when he saw the door move with a jerk, but that didn't mean they were safe yet. Every moment they remained stuck outside the Temple, Calpernia drew closer to the Well of Sorrows and to competing whatever task Corypheus had given her.

eScrambling to his hands and knees, Dorian crawled to the edge and looked down as the dragon's body disappeared into the mists below, vanishing as if it had never existed. With a shuddering breath, he eased back from the edge and forced himself to look across to the other side. There he saw Corypheus standing next to the gaping chasm, staring for a long moment into the abyss which had claimed the dragon. After that moment, however, Corypheus pivoted and stared up at the railing behind which Dorian and his companions had taken shelter earlier. "Do not think you can stay me," he declared, his words carrying across the chasm with ease. "Reveal yourself to your new god!"

Only distantly aware that he'd stopped breathing, Dorian's eyes widened as a red lyrium skull came into view over the railing, followed in the next breath by a hooded figure who could be no other than Amell. Even from this distance, Dorian could see the red glow of the man's eyes in the dark confines of his hood, and quickly Dorian parsed recent events with a roll of his eyes. "Well, naturally he was the one to take down the dragon," Dorian muttered under his breath. "Show off."

"Avanna, Sethius Amladaris," Amell intoned, the mockery subtle but there. Dorian, whose ear had been finely tuned to understand all manner of insults and invective by the courts and Circles of Minrathous, clearly heard the intended insolence in addressing Corypheus using only his name, and even more saw the intention to provoke which lay behind it.

"Oh dear," he breathed. "This is going to get ugly." He heard the crunch of a boot from behind him and turned in time to see Solas come to a halt next to him. "It would seem for once that we are not the focus of Amell's foul plans."

Solas peered across the gap, a frown on his lips. "Though it is a boon not to face the dragon at this time, I wonder at Amell's intentions here. Corypheus was obvious in his goal. Amell continues to be opaque." He squinted as he peered across the bridge, to where the two men stood still facing each other. "They appear to be conversing, though that does not sound like the Trade tongue."

Dorian tilted his head. "That's Tevene. Not the modern bastardization, either, but old Tevene. It hasn't been spoken regularly in a thousand years, I would think. Not since the time before the Blights."

"Can you understand them?" Solas asked, his gaze peculiarly keen.

"Not a great deal, no," Dorian said. "It's considered an old language in the modern Imperium, used for showing off your education and status, but not much more. Even if I were standing next to them, I would understand only a smattering of the exchange. From here?" He shook his head. "Just a word here and there, no more." Dorian shifted uneasily on his feet as it settled in on him just how many years the Magisters before him had actually seen, and it made his own existence seem paltry by comparison.

On the other hand, he told himself, I'm not an evil bastard, either.

"Ah. It appears they have reached a point of contention," Solas murmured, even as the discussion blossomed into raised voices. Dorian caught a few more words here and there, but nothing really stood out until Amell raised his staff and bellowed in a voice loud enough to carry to where he and Solas stood:

"Na via lerno victoria!"

"That's it," Dorian muttered, slowly backing away. "That's a direct challenge." At Solas' eloquently raised eyebrow, Dorian added, "'Only the living know victory.' It's a provocation for a duel to the death." Glancing nervously back at the temple doors, he noticed that Alistair and Varric had almost managed to push them open to the point where they could slip through. "I hope they don't get too enthusiastic about it, or we might get some blowback from the—"

"Inquisitor." Solas settled his hand on Dorian's arm, tone urgent. "They begin!"

Dorian turned back in time to see Corypheus raise the pulsating Orb and launch an attack. A flicker of movement, however, attracted Dorian's attention away from the arcane battle to stare as a dark shadow sneaked up on Corypheus from behind. Before he could do more than blink, the shadow flickered into human form, becoming a man with two daggers held up high as he launched himself upwards.

As the daggers sank into Corypheus, the Magister roared and twisted, clawing at the man hanging from his back with a determined grip on his daggers. It wasn't until Corypheus held up the Orb and sent out a burst of magic that the man and his daggers went flying, rolling to a stop several meters away. Before Corypheus could attack him, however, Amell launched a battery of spells of his own, forcing Corypheus away from the man on the ground.

When the man raised his head, however, Dorian's mouth dropped open as the shock of recognition swept over him. "Well, shit," he breathed.

By then, of course, Hawke had already launched himself once more at Corypheus, leaving Dorian to stare helplessly across the chasm as the battle unfolded.