Varric wouldn't call himself a good man. A nice one, certainly, and he tried to be pleasant company, but good men did not look at demons, a hole in the sky and a thousand burnt bodies and think, I guess I'm about to write a new book. When he sprinted through mud and ice, Varric was already stringing words together in his head. Fire kissing snow. Ash curling on the breeze. Demons howling in chorus with the mountain wind ― the Chant of Darkness? No, too obvious.

Varric would, however, call himself a good liar. One of the best, really, though it wasn't the sort of credential to go spreading around. "Storyteller" was the more palatable word, though many people in the past year would point, get angry and shout, That's the same thing!

These days, he called himself the Seeker's Liar. It was the quickest way to piss her off.

"The veil is distorted around that bend in the road." New disaster, new apostate―this one more polite than the last, though his hair wasn't nearly as pretty. What were the flattering words for a bald head, anyway? His skull shone in the sunlight, like a mirrored egg― "At least three separate anomalies, perhaps more."

"In the common tongue, Chuckles."

Solas paused, frowning briefly. "There's a portal. Over there. At least three spirits have come through. Your Seeker should be bringing the prisoner along any moment―if there's any power to close these rifts, it will be with them."

"She's not my Seeker." Varric slipped Bianca full of arrows, moving his quiver from his back to his hip for an easy reach. "And next time, just lead with demons and portals; we don't have time for anomalitic distortions or whatever."

The corner of Solas' mouth twitched upward. He braced his staff against his forearm in the usual way of a mage ready for a fight. "I thought you were a writer, Varric."

Varric hefted Bianca to eye level. "Yeah. And the difference between a good writer and a great one is knowing when not to use words."

They rounded the corner together. Four 'anomalies' were waiting, wispy nightmares with long limbs and jaws hung so wide they looked broken. Varric knew his place; there was no bulky warrior to take the lead, so the job of protecting the mage fell to him. Only to him. A dwarf with short legs who did much better at range than up close.

"Maker's balls," he muttered. "Over here, you freaks! Eyes on the dwarf!"

He loosed all four arrows at once, one into each demon, and began to run. Four shrieks split the air, and they chased him while Solas shot magic-something-or-other at their backs. Varric slapped a new round of arrows as he went, cursing Cassandra, cursing the hole in the sky, cursing whoever thought it was a good idea to send a rogue and a mage by themselves to clear the way for the Seeker.

Too soon, one of the demons took notice of the magic and rounded back toward Solas.

"Nope!" Varric skidded to a halt, shooting the wayward demon before it could lay a claw on the mage. "One-two-three, eyes on me!" The shot cost him precious time; the other three were almost on him when he started running again.

The fourth demon returned focus to Varric, who couldn't quite get a grip on his next arrows. His first wind was spent; ten more seconds, and they would catch him for sure.

A claw swiped at his duster, scoring the leather and nearly yanking him off his feet.

"Dammit." Varric spun a sharp turn, hooking sideways underneath the flailing talons. The demons screeched, reached for him, and got tangled up with each other.

Then, in the distance: "Up on the hill!" Never before had Seeker Pentaghast's voice sounded so sweet.

"Whenever you're damn well ready, Seeker!" Varric bellowed, skittering between demons. "Don't worry, we'll wait!"

Cassandra Pentaghast had a funny way of entering battle. She liked to bellow at the top of her lungs and slam the pommel of her sword against her shield, then find the tightest knot of trouble and leap straight into the middle.

Though she also might have just been getting the attention off Varric.

The four demons switched path, streaking toward the Seeker. Varric caught his breath, found a high boulder and began laying down cover fire; Solas needled them with magic, and the three of them controlled the fight much better than two.

The four of them, rather. Another figure took post at the edge of the battle, staff already in hand and spells flying―another apostate, though he was too far away to make out anything besides blond hair and the brilliant green light bleeding from the left hand.

Not another mage, Varric thought. I've already written one of those.

The fight dragged out, and it was quickly clear who was experienced in what. Cassandra was a masterful fighter by herself, but difficult to support; she liked to be where the fighting was thickest, and so no spell or arrow could wander too close without risking her blood. Solas' spellwork was precise and brutal, wheedling individual demons away so Varric could finish them off with an arrow. Their Mystery Prisoner, by a stroke of good luck, had healing magic pouring out his ears and did nothing but keep Cassandra up and fighting. That familiar blue crackle could mean the difference between an easy fight and a nasty one.

A very familiar blue crackle, come to think of it. No, Varric scolded himself, I can't write the same thing twice.

Four demons became three, and three became two, and that blue crackle allowed Cassandra to shrug off strikes like falling leaves. The last demon was still screaming around the metal of her sword when Solas quit the fight entirely, rushing over to the Mystery Prisoner and grabbing him by the hand.

If they fall in love, Varric noted, that grab will be important. Why had he stopped carrying his notebooks into battle?

Solas all but hauled the Mystery Prisoner to the rift, lifting his glowing hand to the glowing portal. The two lights met, there was a thunderous crack on the air and the stink of burnt metal; the rift made a sound not unlike a scream of pain, and then… disappeared. Just like that. The silence fell so hard it almost knocked Varric off his vantage point; with a few deep breaths, the dwarf put both feet on low ground and made to regroup.

"You have fine timing," Solas remarked to the Mystery Prisoner. "I am glad to see not all the luck is gone from the world."

"Speak for yourself." Varric holstered Bianca. The demons left behind no bones or body, and all his arrows remained in shooting condition for him to scoop up as he walked. "Here I thought Cassandra had confiscated all my luck for the good of the Chantry. Good to see you still breathing, Seeker."

"Another lie, Tethras?"

"I'm serious. We can actually close these portals, then?"

Solas nodded. "He can, at least." With the danger gone, there was at last a moment to take in the Mystery Prisoner properly.

Varric was a good liar. One of the greatest. And like writing, the difference between a good liar and a great one was knowing when to keep their mouth locked up tighter than a miser's last coin. In fact, Varric's great skill with lying was perhaps the only reason he didn't drop his jaw right there and say, Are you shitting me?

Anders, for his part, seemed equally surprised to see Varric. He gawked, knuckles turning white on his staff.

"Will it stay closed?" asked Cassandra to Solas, content to ignore anyone she considered her prisoner.

Solas frowned at the empty air. "For now, yes. But the breach in the sky could open it again any time, and many more besides; until we get that one closed, we are only putting elfroot on an open bleed."

"Then we know our course." She looked over her shoulder. "You, prisoner―can you do it again?"

Anders looked at her, blinking. "Y-yes. I think I can."

"You had better know for certain, because we've got plenty more ahead."

"I am Solas, if you'd like to call me something other than 'apostate.'" The elf dipped his head in greeting. "I am glad to see you remain in fighting shape, and doubly so at your expertise; I suspect healing will be an art in high demand."

Cassandra scoffed impatiently. Solas stepped back and inclined his head to Varric, clearly offering the next chance to speak.

Varric looked at Anders. Anders looked at Varric. Varric, for the first time in his life, could not figure out what to say.

"Hurry up so we can get moving," Cassandra snapped. "Time is death."

"Did you blow up the Conclave?" Varric blurted.

Solas cut in. "I find it hard to imagine anyone, mage or not, wielding enough power to cause such an explosion. Were this man to have a hundred mages under his command, I doubt even that could make it so." He cast a meaningful look at Cassandra.

Cassandra sighed. "Understood."

Varric put a hand on Bianca. "Did you blow up the Conclave?"

"No." Anders' eyes were hard. "I was here for peace."

That's a change, Varric did not say. He removed his hand from Bianca, catching an incredulous look from Cassandra.

"I'm glad you have this prisoner's word, since Solas' expertise did not convince you." She scowled. "Perhaps liars have a way of recognizing each other."

"I believe him." Varric turned toward the path ahead, signaling an end to the conversation. "And whether you believe me or not, Seeker, I do sometimes tell the truth."

Thunder cracked overhead; the Breach shuddered in the sky and stretched, making itself more comfortable. Anders cried out in pain, staggering as the lights sparked in his hand. Blood trickled down his fingers; when the moment ebbed, he swallowed the pain and flicked it away.

"The truth cannot matter right now." Cassandra turned to face up the mountain. "That mark is killing you, prisoner, and you will die if the rift is not closed. All else can wait."

The four of them fell into step, Cassandra in the lead, Varric behind her and the two mages bringing up the rear. Varric was glad to have the Seeker's battered steel cuirass to focus on―without it, he might not have been able to keep his eyes off their new addition.

I can't write this, he kept repeating to himself. This is the most contrived plot twist of all time. He wasn't even the most popular character in the last book; he can't be the center of the next. They'll call me a hack. No, no, he had to calm down―had to think. Had to sort out the facts.

"So if you didn't blow up the Conclave,'" Varric asked Cassandra's back, "what were you doing there? You gotta admit, it's not exactly a good look."

"I was there to talk." Anders was at the very back of the line, so any emotion in his voice was stolen by the wind. "Like everyone."

Varric thumbed Bianca's limbs. "Talk about what, exactly?"

"I told you. Peace."

"And the explosion?"

"I don't remember what happened."

"Yeah." Varric chuckled humorlessly. "That'll get you every time."

Cassandra raised her shield. "Demons!"

They split apart, taking positions. Another rift was spitting demons down the mountainside, but this time the four of them were smoother; Cassandra still got inconveniently scrunched up with their targets, but Solas was quicker to draw them out one by one so Varric could pick them off. Anders once again kept Cassandra fit and fighting, and Varric cursed himself for not recognizing him the first time. Anders had a specific way with battle―he skittered and dodged, always careful to keep eyes on all companions at all times.

But it was different now, Varric realized. Anders was more eager to stand his ground. More conscious of who controlled the battlefield. More confident. More like Hawke. Still, he kept to his place as a healer; Anders focused on Cassandra, and he focused on keeping Solas and Varric safe enough to help her. Many demons became few demons, and few demons became none at all.

Solas went to grab Anders for the second rift, but the human was already moving, raising his hand to the sky and catching that green light in his fingers. Another crack and whiff of burnt metal, and the portal screamed out of existence.

"Keep moving!" Cassandra shouted. "We're almost at the forward camp."

With the demons and portal gone, Varric could see the barricades ahead, and beyond them one of the last ramparts of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The soldiers pulled the barricades aside for their group to pass, their eyes landing squarely on Anders. Every one of those eyes boiled with hatred.

"Well," Anders muttered. "Good to know I'm still good as ever at making friends."

"They have decided your guilt," Cassandra said, forging their way through running bodies and supplies. "They are in fear and in mourning. They need some reason for this to have happened. Our Most Holy is dead, and you are our only suspect."

Varric knew he was not a good man, because a good man would not think, So I'm about to write a black comedy. Wonderful. Assuming Anders didn't run away after the Breach was closed.

They crossed the dead bodies lain side by side, boxes and sacks torn open and found empty, to where the red-haired spymaster stooped over a table with that insufferable Brother at her ear.

"―go overstepping your own authority," they heard as they approached. The High Chancellor Roderick had his arms crossed and face pulled into a scowl, which only deepened when he caught Cassandra's eye. "Neither her Right Hand nor her Left have any power when she is gone. And as the highest ranking member of the Chantry―"

"―You will go find a Chantry and stay out of the way," Cassandra finished. She stepped beside Leliana and peered down at the map on the table. "We've gained ground."

"A little," Leliana agreed. "But we will not hold it for long if the demons keep coming."

"And this is the one who killed our Most Holy?" Roderick looked Anders up and down. "Why is he still alive? Why has justice been delayed?"

"Justice had some trouble on the way up," Anders deadpanned.

Maker's balls, Varric managed not to mutter.

"He has not been found guilty by any investigation," Cassandra answered.

"What guilt is there to find, Seeker? Divine Justinia was slain by the same magic rooted in that mage's hand!" He spat the word like a curse. "Her life must be answered for!"

"Glad to see the Chantry values all lives equally." Anders put a hand on his hip. "Your concern for everyone else who died is quite touching."

The High Chancellor twisted in rage, taking a single step around the table before Cassandra blocked him. He knew better than to try and pass. "I command you to slay him, Seeker."

"You? Command me?" Cassandra lit her own rage, stepping into his face and looking him in the eye. "You are a cleric, Chancellor. A glorified clerk. You are in no authority over myself, over Leliana or any one of these soldiers, and you have no authority to condemn a man to death."

Their angers met for a moment, but Cassandra's burned brighter. High Chancellor Roderick stepped back. "This will be on your head, Seeker."

He took his leave, and behind him fell silence. Varric prayed the silence would last, or at least be broken by anyone other than Anders―

"He walks rather well for a dog with its tail between its legs," Anders said. "I suppose I should thank you for not beheading me where I stand."

Cassandra ignored him, pointing at the map. "Solas was correct―we have a way to close the Breach, so long as we get the prisoner to it. What are our options?"

"Commander Cullen has taken the bulk of our forces to the eastern trench."

Anders coughed. Varric looked back, and found the man struggling to put together a calm expression. Does she mean that Cullen? he asked with his eyes.

Varric gave a subtle nod.

Anders' eyes said, Shit.

"We have two options." Leliana ran her hands over the map. "Charging with Commander Cullen would be the quickest way, but it would cost men. A lot of them."

"What of the mountain pass?" Cassandra asked, looking up the slopes. "You sent men ahead, didn't you?"

"They haven't reported back. I imagine there are as many demons there as anywhere else." Leliana looked at Anders. "Though, if he can indeed close rifts, then that problem might solve itself. It would incur less casualties, but would take longer."

Cassandra pondered for a moment, then turned to Anders. "What do you think, prisoner?"

"You want… my opinion." Anders blinked, tilting his head. "Why?"

"You're the one with the mark," she answered. "You're the one we have to protect."

"You were ready to kill me an hour ago." Anders tilted his head at where Roderick had once stood. "Is this just to spite that charming Chancellor of yours, or do you now believe me innocent?"

"I do not know what to believe, except that you are the only thing we have that can close the rift." Cassandra crossed her arms. "You said you wanted to help. Make it so."

Anders glanced at the map, the two women, at Solas, at Varric.

"The mountain pass," he said.

Leliana made a mark on her map. "Cassandra knows the way. And if you find any trace of my scouts…"

"We'll bring it to you." Cassandra made a quick pace toward the opposite end of the battlements. "We must move quickly."

The three of them followed, passing the barricades and returning to open mountainside. The ramparts were soon swallowed back up by the snow and stone and trees; they made for an old mining complex jutting out from the sloped.

"Do you have a name?" Solas asked when they reached the base of the mine.

"Didn't you hear the Seeker?" Anders chirped. "I'm Prisoner."

"We will discover your name eventually." Cassandra climbed the steps first, sword drawn and shield raised. "Do not doubt that."

"I'll doubt whatever I like," Anders replied. "In fact, I rather doubt I'm going to survive long enough to be investigated at all."

There was a particularly high broken step which Varric had to clamber up. Anders appeared beside him, holding out a hand to help. His hands were narrow, and laced across with scars and burns. There were no feathers on his clothes, just a plain and unremarkable jacket over simple shirt and pants―the clothes no one would remember. But his hair was the same, if a bit longer, pulled back to frame the same half-shaven scruff. Brown eyes which Varric could not read.

Varric ignored the offered hand, getting up the steps on his own.

"Proceed with caution," Solas said when they were all at the mine entrance. "We do not know what awaits us inside."

"Yes we do." Anders fell once more to the back of the group. "Demons await, that's what."

Cassandra took the first step into the mine. "You are remarkably talkative for someone facing execution."

"Sorry, would you rather I fall on my knees and weep at the injustice of it? The Maker knows I'm innocent, but nothing I say will convince you of it. I'd rather get on with killing demons if it's all the same to you."

"It's all the same to me." Cassandra kept her eyes to the darkness ahead. "Stay behind me."

They advanced slowly, warrior at the front and mages in the back. Varric stuck close to the tunnel wall, Bianca loaded and pointed at the ground but ready to snap up at the first sign of trouble.

They did not have to wait long.

As soon as the entrance was out of sight, that same scent of burnt metal hit Varric's nose. A moment later, screeches echoed off the wall and Fade-light illuminated the tunnel; more demons, more magic, more things to kill.

Only this time, there was no vantage point. Cassandra charged ahead, but the tunnel was cramped; Varric couldn't get a good shot, and Solas hesitated to cast anything toward her.

"Seeker!" Varric called out. "You've got to move―break them apart so we can hit them!"

"I'm―trying!" She cut, dodged, cut again, retreating when there were too many claws to repel. "Get in here and help!"

Varric cursed, shooting arrow after arrow at the demons on the sidelines. That only made them turn, spot him, and pick a different target.

"Shit." Varric backed up, but there was nowhere to go without tripping over the mages. "Hold on, Seeker, don't hit me!"

He ran headlong into the fray, Bianca in one hand and his dagger in the other. He hit the mess knife-first, breaking enough space between the Seeker and the demons to bring up Bianca and shoot two of them point-blank. After that he fell back, rushing away from the fight before any of them could realize what had happened.

One of the demons died on the shot. The other, followed by three of its friends, abandoned Cassandra to hunt Varric down.

"All yours!" cried the dwarf, darting between the two mages.

With enough space to avoid Cassandra, Solas unleashed a wall of icy spikes; two of the demons had already been damaged and disintegrated in smoke. The remaining two kept up their chase of Varric; he fired off two more arrows before one of them caught up and raked talons across his chest. The breath left Varric's lungs; he wheezed and scrambled away, feeling the steam of hot blood meeting cold air.

"Varric!" Anders called out. "Be careful!"

A familiar tingle bloomed in Varric's veins, spreading from heart to fingertips in the span of a second. His wounds closed, his breath returned, and he was back in business.

"Sorry," Varric growled, leveling his crossbow with the demon's head. "Only Bianca gets to touch this."

He loosed his last two bolts; the demon was dead before it could even shriek. Behind, Solas and Anders together took care of his other pursuer; Cassandra finished up her own share of the fight and jerked her sword deeper into the tunnel.

"Go on!" she commanded. "Close the rift!"

Anders darted past Cassandra to another portal hovering in the air. He was more practiced this time, yanking it closed with less pain in his movements.

Silence fell, as did darkness; Varric let out a slow breath and ran hands over his chest. There was some blood on his clothes, but no wounds left in the skin. A clean, solid heal.

"Good shit," he said. "Keep this up, and―"

Cassandra pressed her sword against his throat. He'd been so concerned with his own health, Varric hadn't even heard her approach.

"Don't move, dwarf."

Varric gritted his teeth. "What now, Seeker? If you got in Bianca's way―"

She slammed him against the wall. "Do not toy with me," she hissed. "You didn't introduce yourself. How does that prisoner know your name?"

Ah. Shit.

Solas appeared in Varric's periphery. "Seeker! Whatever―"

A bolt of light slammed into Cassandra, knocking her sideways. Varric coughed, hefted Bianca and put some distance between himself and the woman. Deeper in the tunnel, Anders stood with another spell ready to throw.

"I don't want to fight!" Anders exclaimed as Cassandra got to her feet. "Put your sword down and I'll do the same."

"You know each other!" Cassandra took several steps forward; Varric took several steps back. "You were acting strange as soon as you laid eyes on him, Tethras; I knew it!"

"Seeker, stop―Blondie, stop!"

Varric stood between them, hands held up in both directions. Anders' magic crackled, but did not leave his fingers; Cassandra raised her sword again and put the point to Varric's throat.

"Talk," she commanded.

"Yes, I will, hold on, hold on." Varric kept eyes on the Seeker and continued gesturing for Anders to be still. "Believe it or not, I had some more demonic concerns when you found us in the valley, and if I said how I knew him you'd have a thousand questions we wouldn't have time to answer. I was really, honestly going to tell you―after we got the rift closed."

Cassandra pressed the point deeper into his skin. "Who. Is. He?"

Varric gulped. "He's… he's a Grey Warden."

Cassandra's anger melted to confusion. Behind him, Varric heard Anders' barely-audible sigh.

"A Grey Warden?" Cassandra looked at Anders. "But we've been looking ever since… and here, after all this…?" She shook her head. "Where is the rest of your order, Warden? What business does a Grey Warden have at the Conclave? Were you sent here? What do you have to do with any of this?"

"Yeah, Seeker, this is why I wanted to wait." Varric sidestepped, bringing Cassandra's attention back to him. "Believe me, I'm asking myself all those same questions, but do you think that maybe that giant hole in the sky is the first problem we should solve?"

"Why in Andraste's name would you keep this quiet?" she snarled.

"Because we've got people dying every minute we stand here talking, Seeker, and it might not be the best time for an interrogation. We need to go."

After a moment's pause, she gave him one last shove and sheathed her sword. "Fine. But you are on very thin ice, Tethras."

Varric sighed. "Aren't I always?"

She forged ahead into the tunnel. Varric turned to make sure Bianca was alright, and in doing so he caught Anders' eye. The mage was breathing heavily, working his tongue around words that could not be said with Solas still present. Instead, Anders settled for a nod of acknowledgement.

They pressed on. It seemed that only one rift had appeared inside the mine; no more demons sprang from the shadows. Not until they reached open air, at least; the mine opened up on the other side of the mountain, and immediately they could hear sounds of a fight.

"Leliana's patrol," Cassandra guessed.

"Good," Solas said. "They will keep them busy for us."

"They certainly will not." Already Anders was turning from the path, staff held out ahead of him. "Come on, they'll never make it if that rift isn't closed."

"You risk far more by straying off the path," Solas snapped, but it was no use. Anders was already yards ahead, and Cassandra already following.

"Some things never change," Varric muttered, loading with Bianca with arrows and heading back into battle.

There were more demons to be found down the mountainside, and more bodies to fight them; three of the patrol were already dead, four injured past fighting and only two left to swing a sword.

"Get the demons off them!" Anders yelled, blue light springing to his fingertips. "Give me as much time as you can!" He skidded to a halt beside one of the soldiers Varric had assumed to be dead, slamming magic into her chest. The soldier gasped her way back to life.

"Fall back to me!" Cassandra cried. "Regroup!"

The two standing soldiers obeyed with relief, allowing the Seeker to take on the bulk of the battle. Varric took one vantage point, Solas took another, and the dance began again.

"You!" Anders pointed at the able-bodied soldiers. "Check who's still breathing. You, get a tourniquet around that leg, now!"

The two soldiers glanced at each other, then leapt to do as they were told. A medic accused of killing the Divine was still a medic worth listening to, apparently.

In a stroke of luck, however, Cassandra had finally gotten the hang of being supported. She was light on her feet, keeping the demons scattered and moving―plenty of space for Solas and Varric to pick them off. But with Anders occupied elsewhere, Cassandra's wounds stayed open and bleeding; she wouldn't be able to keep it up for long.

"Blondie!" Varric yelled. "She needs you!"

"Working on it!" Anders was wrist-deep in another soldier that looked very much dead, but in another moment this one also blinked awake.

"Blondie!"

"I'm coming!" He snatched his staff and leaped back to the fray, slinging a massive bolt of blue light into Cassandra's back. She gasped, coughed, stumbled, and then got her strength back.

Anders returned to the injured, and to the two able soldiers synching wounds. "I can take care of the rest; get back to your weapons, both of you!"

One soldier took up his sword and the other her bow; they returned to the battle with far more confidence than they'd left it. With five fighters against seven demons, and the Seeker now without injury, the fight was already won. Six demons. Five demons. Three. None.

"The rift!" Solas shouted. "Get it closed!"

Anders finished tying off a tourniquet and darted to the rift, holding up his marked hand. The portal snapped, screeched, resisted… and then it vanished. The air popped in Varric's ears as it closed.

"Right," Anders said. "Get me a good stick and any rope you can spare, and if you've got any bandages―"

"We must go," Solas interrupted. "We've already wasted too much time."

"And it'll be wasted if he dies." Anders knelt at one of the conscious, injured soldiers, who was sporting a nasty gash across the abdomen and spurting blood from under one armpit. Anders tended the armpit first, pulling bandages from his pockets and stuffing the wound.

Varric shook his head, unsure if he should smile or not. Of course Anders would have bandages for every situation.

"Alright, it'll keep you for the trip back." Anders stood, turning toward the able soldiers. "Keep the wounds tight and dry. The way is clear behind us."

The two soldiers stared at his glowing hand, and the female one said, "You're the one who…"

"Who didn't kill the Divine? Yes, I am. Keep them as warm as you can; they've lost blood and hypothermia will kill them as surely as any demon."

Anders forged ahead without stopping to look at the rest of them. Varric was the first to get his bearings and follow, and Cassandra caught up quickly with Solas in the rear. The battlefield disappeared behind them, and the Breach drew closer.

"You are a skilled healer," Cassandra said after a long silence. "Without you, we would likely have only saved four out of the seven."

Anders shrugged. "Feel free to put that on my grave when I'm dead."

Another silence fell, though it was more comfortable than before. They climbed another mountainside, and at last the stone gave way to the Breach―and to the scorch-black crater that had once been the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

"Maker," Anders breathed. "What happened?"

"Ain't that the question of the day." Varric followed Cassandra down a thin footpath, trying not to look too far down. Once again, Anders offered a helping hand; once again, Varric refused it. They set foot on one of the upper levels of the temple; all around them were the corpses of people burned down to the skeleton.

"Seeker Pentaghast." Ahead, a soldier with crossbow came to greet them. "Commander Cullen and his men have cleared the area, but we don't know for how long."

Cassandra nodded. "And Leliana?"

"She is here. She's set two dozen of us on the higher levels to lay down arrows should more demons come through."

"Then we've no time to waste." Cassandra turned to move on. "Inform Leliana of what has been said. The rest of you, let's get to the ground."

The soldier took his leave; they found a set of stairs not destroyed in the blast and made their way down. As they went, Varric became aware of a glow―not from Anders or the rift, but from below. It was sickly red and throbbing, in a way which set the dwarf's gut twisting.

"Blondie," he whispered.

"I feel it, too," Anders answered.

"Now is the hour of our victory." A deep, thunderous voice came from nowhere, and from everywhere. It rippled through Varric's bones, making him stumble. "Bring forth the sacrifice."

"What was that?" Cassandra hissed.

"At a guess?" Solas answered. "The person who created the Breach."

They continued down. That red glow crawled up Varric's spine, even before he laid eyes on the spikes of red crystal jutting from the earth. He couldn't tell if it was his own fear or the stupid magic singing trying to get ahold of him, but he hated every second it.

"Seeker," he said. "Seeker, this place is covered in red lyrium."

"I have eyes, Varric; I see it."

"But what's it doing here?" The dwarf looked over his shoulder to cast a questioning look at Anders, who only shrugged.

It was Solas who responded. "A burst of magic could have drawn on lyrium within the earth, corrupting it and drawing it out."

Varric held Bianca closer. "Don't touch it. Don't even get near it."

"Keep the sacrifice still." "Someone, help me!"

Cassandra stopped dead. "Th-that's Divine Justinia's voice."

"What's happening? Get away from her!" This one was unmistakeable―Anders, echoing off the rocks and lyrium even as the man himself kept his mouth shut.

A crack like distant thunder, the roar of blood through Varric's ears, and the Temple of Sacred Ashes vanished. The soot and melted stone peeled away, the red lyrium returned to the ground, and Varric couldn't feel his own body.

He was running… no, he was watching someone else run, in the impersonal, disjointed way an audience would watch a play. Anders, answering a call, throwing open the door to a room of stone. An old woman, suspended in the air by magic and a towering figure with glowing eyes.

"We have an intruder." The figure pointed one long, clawed finger at Anders. "Kill him."

And the vision ended, as quickly as it had started. Varric slammed back to his own body, swaying on his feet. Around him, the other companions seemed to be having the same trouble.

"You were there." Cassandra surged toward Anders. "What happened? Is the Divine dead?"

"I don't remember!" Anders ran hands through his hair. "I wasn't lying; I swear by Andraste's ashes and before the Maker that I do not know what happened."

After a moment, Cassandra breathed, "I believe you." She seemed surprised by her own words.

"It is the memory of what happened here, written in the Fade and the stone itself." Solas stepped out of cover, into the gaping hole in the mountain that had once been the Temple. "This rift is closed, but only just. I believe with the power of the mark, it can be reopened and then sealed in such a way as to be safe. However, I expect tampering with this rift will draw attention from the other side, so it is vital this man focus on closing it and on nothing else. Seeker, he must be protected at all costs, do you understand?"

"I understand." Cassandra turned to the Temple at large, calling out, "Take your places! Be ready for demons!"

Leliana's men gripped their weapons; Cassandra and Solas spread out to find defensive positions. Varric moved to follow, but was stopped short by a hand on his shoulder: Anders, brow furrowed and mouth drawn.

"Thank you," Anders murmured once the others were out of earshot. "For what you said to the Seeker. I know you probably don't think I deserve it."

Varric shrugged off the hand, stepping away to find cover. "I didn't do it for you, Blondie. Just… make it worth it by coming out of this alive."

A blue flash crossed Anders' eyes, and the mage smiled bitterly. "This once, maybe I'll actually try."