Prologue
Nothing has been particularly remarkable about Haven, not since Warden Mahariel eliminated the dragon cult that had squatted there during the Fifth Blight. Yes, Haven was a relatively insignificant town, not standing out among the other small hamlets that dotted Ferelden's countryside. Very few people lived in such a place year round and those who did had been hardened by the Frostback's harsh conditions. Six months out of the year the sky poured buckets of freezing rain on the villagers and in the remaining time, the people had to wade through waist-deep snow. The only refuge from such miserable weather was the Singing Maiden, a tavern, which was usually populated in the morning when most broke their fast and in the evening as the townsfolk relaxed and attempted to forget about the day's woes.
Though the village was never the reason why people visited Haven, even during the time of the Disciples of Andraste's occupation. For Haven, itself was not particularly interesting but did sit before the Temple of Sacred Ashes, the final resting place of Our Lady Redeemer. Pilgrims have occasionally come up the mountain pass while on the way to see the temple. Frozen and ancient the building was truly an architectural marvel. Very few actually stayed to fully research it and those who did usually found themselves becoming permanent residences. The first team of scholars, following in the footsteps of brother Genitivi, had not intended to remain for longer than a week or two. Next, they knew they were re-purposing the abandoned cabins that had stood guard for centuries. When supplies began running low a few branched off to scour the wilderness eventually taking up the task of feeding the ever-growing village. The impromptu villagers soon began placing bets in regards to whether or not a new arrival would choose to stay.
9:41 Dragon was a different story. Those who had come to know Haven as home were all on edge. Twitchy Mages and zealous Templars were camped just beyond the village borders awaiting the arrival of the Divine's Left and Right Hands. The Most Holy herself was already snugly succoured within in the temple preparing for the peace talks. Her chamber free of ice and her wine imported from Antiva. The Mage sent to keep an eye out on Grand Enchanter Fiona's behalf was perusing the temple's library. The Templar representative was in the process of looking for their sibling while a particularly chatty dwarf talked their ear off. A Tal-Voshoth mercenary was leaning against a door frame keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. They did not notice a small elf slip past, though they should not feel ashamed as none of the Chantry guards spotted the Dalish warrior either. Nor did they notice the Grey Wardens sneaking about or the taste of ancient and evil magic permeating the air; and only one heard the Divine scream.
It was a long journey from Kirkwall to Haven. They travelled by ship for part of it and horseback during the rest. Quite the unlikely group was trudging through the snowy pass. Able to feel the gaze of two warring parties without seeing either of them. A Nightingale was hidden under the sun, riding ahead of the few men helping to escort the silver-tongued prisoner. The Seneschal's little birds occasionally darting to their mother's side with a whispered message of the location of someone important or a particularly aggressive individual. The Truth Seeker sat atop a massive plated stead, groomed and trained for war. Her armour was ceremonial and bright on purpose as the few watching the pass with any ability to notice the former Bard found their eyes immediately drawn to the sharp-featured Valkyrie. Hidden from the view of most, but still within the line of sight of the dragon slayer, hurriedly scratching down notes was a Storyteller.
He felt something before the other's saw or heard anything. Call it a writer's intuition. He closed his book and placed it in his pack. The Head of House Tethras had felt such a feeling once before and if his red streaked friend's tale was anything to go by, shit was about to get weird.
The explosion was so violent that people of Denerim would later gossip about experiencing the aftershock. A group of rowdy Tal-Vosoth packed up quickly and made their way to a planned escape route before the Templars or Mages could register what was going on. They would morn on the road. A mercenary band flinched at the noise but were quick to leave as well. The Templars scattered to the west, the Mages to the east. A pair of Dalish elves ducked into the forest as a lone wolf sat atop a ridge and cocked his head to the side while watching reality tear itself apart. The sky was falling and the ancient temple was now the final resting place of more than just the Maker's bride.