Velthorn was sitting on the steps of the Chantry, contemplating the sky. The place where the Breach had been was still marred, but the Breach itself was gone.
His hand still tingled, as if the connection was still open between him and the hole in the world. He could still feel the power of all those mages flowing through him, feeding the connection. The elf shivered.
"You okay?" Varric asked him, coming to stand beside him.
"Yeah. I'm fine," the Dalish responded.
Varric gave a little laugh. "You know you should be celebrating, right?"
Everyone else was. People were drinking, laughing, dancing. The tavern was overflowing. Velthorn could see Blackwall sitting by one of the fires, chatting with some Inquisition soldier the elf didn't know. Even the normally withdrawn Vivienne, who was used to much more sophisticated parties, had come to take part in the festivities.
"I know," Velthorn replied, "There's so much still to do. I just…don't feel like it's over. It feels like something is still coming."
"Well, you have every reason to be anxious," the dwarf admitted, "but today, we had a real win. Shit, you closed the hole in the sky. That's got to count for something."
"But we still don't know who killed the Divine. Or who created the Breach," the elf pointed out.
Varric sighed, then chuckled. "But look at what we have accomplished. You have to give yourself more credit." Velthorn was silent. "Come join us when you're ready."
Velthorn forced a smile. "Thanks, Varric. I will."
Two days passed. Haven celebrated the Inquisition and its success. But Velthorn was right and there was still much to be done. As things settled down, work began again.
"We are still getting reports of Rifts in areas outside of the Inquisition's influence, but closing the Breach has opened a few paths for us," Leliana reported.
Josephine added, "Now that we've shown we're more than just promises, people are more willing to talk."
"That's good," Velthorn said.
"More than just good," Josephine said with a smile, "People are coming to us now."
"No more begging at the feet of our betters?" Velthorn asked jokingly.
Josephine gave a little laugh. "No, Master Lavellan."
"So, what are we going to do about the Rifts left behind?"
Cullen explained where the Rifts were and Josephine gave information on who to ally with in order to reach those Rifts. The former Knight Commander also expressed the need for more troops. People to locate remaining Rifts as well as cut down demons that still roamed freely.
They were in the middle of logistics when Volyn came in.
"We have a problem," he said, with all seriousness, "An army approaches from the south."
"What?" Josephine asked, clearly shocked.
"You should look for yourself," Volyn told them.
Outside, most everyone was staring at the mountains in the distance, whose surface seemed to be moving. Hundreds of people were marching through the snow, occasionally illuminated by the light of torches. Bull and the Chargers were already at the town gates.
"But who are they? They bear no banners or crests," Josephine asked.
"I don't—"
Cullen was cut off as a loud banging rattled the city doors on the hinges.
"I can't come in unless you open!" came a shout from the other side.
Cautious and curious, Velthorn motioned for the men manning the doors to open them. The advisers followed him out, all of them confused by the sight of a young man in an enormous hat.
Instantly, the young man, surrounded by what seemed to be dead Templars, turned to them and said, "I'm Cole. I came to warn you, to help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know."
"What is this?" Cassandra asked, "What's going on?"
Cole's mouth drew down in a frown. "The Templars come to kill you," he said darkly, looking directly in Velthorn's eyes.
"Templars?!" Cullen exclaimed, causing Cole to jump back slightly like a startled cat. But Cullen hardly noticed, sounding baffled. He looked up at the approaching army. "Is this the Order's response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?"
"The red Templars went to the Elder One. You know him? He knows you. You took his mages," Cole said.
The way he moved made him seem manic. If Velthorn didn't know any better, he'd say the boy was mad. Yet everything he was saying made perfect sense. Everyone had said they'd struck a blow against the Elder One at Redcliffe. But Solas had warned him.
"This Elder One will not stand idly by as you undo his work. Be on your guard."
"Cullen?" Velthorn asked, ignoring the 'red Templar' bit for now, "What do we do? At this point, any plan will do."
Cullen's eyes went everywhere for a moment, looking back at Haven's walls, then to the training grounds, and back to the horde.
"Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand that, we must control the battle. Use the trebuchets. Hit the force with everything we've got."
By this point, several Inquisition soldiers stood outside the gates, looking up at the mountains. Mages, common folk, and Chantry sisters stood amongst them. Many more stood inside, awaiting orders.
Cullen turned to these people. Most looked terrified. Some seemed determined. Their grim faces reflected their odds of coming out of this alive. But sometimes, hope can help pull people through. The ex-Templar took a breath.
"Mages!" he shouted, "You have sanction to engage them! They will not make it easy, so use everything you have! Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!"
The assembly gave a great cheer, and Cullen set about giving specific instructions. Leliana addressed her scouts and spies. Josephine guided children and various common folk toward the Chantry. Volyn stood beside the young elf, waiting for his decision.
Dorian, quickly followed by Sera, Blackwall, and Solas, manifested from the crowd.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Dorian asked.
Velthorn and the rest of the companions watched over the soldiers put in charge of firing the trebuchets, watching the massive army get closer and closer.
"We have company," Solas said, nodding his head to the right.
At first, they only appeared to be shadows in the darkness, but as they appeared in the torchlight, something was clearly wrong. Though many were dressed in Templar armor and they were still humanoid in shape, calling the people would be difficult.
For some, the changes were minor. Eyes that crackled and glowed red. A reddish hue to the skin. For others, the changes were much more drastic. Entire arms and legs encased in red crystal, sharpened to a point.
One such creature came at them faster than they'd expected, and it impaled one of the Inquisition soldiers through the chest with one of his arms. Solas immediately cast a shield spell around all who remained.
"Keep that trebuchet firing!" Velthorn instructed the remaining woman. She nodded frantically, loading it with more stones.
Cassandra and Blackwall charged the creature, who snarled in response and used his arms to deflect attacks. More Templars began to surround the platform the trebuchet had been built on, swarming from either side of it.
"Bull!" Velthorn shouted, "You and the Chargers take that side! Solas, keep a shield around them! Sera and Varric, fire at anything that moves out there! Dorian, put a wall of fire behind us! We must keep them contained!"
Volyn was suddenly beside the elf. "Shall I take the fight to them?"
After half a second of consideration, Velthorn nodded. "Just don't let anyone who doesn't know see you transform."
"Will do," the vampire said with a wicked grin. He took off, sprinting for the woods.
As he hit the trees, Volyn began the process. Within moments, he was in the air, gliding over the frozen lake. Soon enough, he found his prey. Some of the Templars screamed as he descended on them, claws tearing through exposed flesh and armor alike.
The others fought hard, but the red Templar's were resilient. Not only that, but they retained they Templar training, their powers only amplified by the red lyrium growing inside them. Velthorn, Dorian, and Solas were all hit powerfully by the magic dampening.
"That doesn't feel good!" Dorian said over the chaos, using his staff to defend himself from an oncoming attack. He'd never experienced a Templar's attacks for himself.
"Herald!" one of the Inquisition soldiers called, "The other trebuchet isn't firing!"
"They must've been overrun. Bull! Can you and the Chargers get over there?" Velthorn asked. "Make sure they're okay?"
"Can do, Boss," the Qunari replied, "Form up, Chargers!"
Giving a grunt of effort, Bull used his axe to throw the man he was currently fighting, sending him back a few feet. The Chargers followed him from the battle.
"We should follow them," Solas said, "There are too many here. We need to fall back."
He was right, of course. No matter how many were cut down, more streamed in. They couldn't fight an entire army.
"Right. Go. Everyone, with the Chargers!"
It was a losing battle there too, but they did manage to get the trebuchet loaded. There was a brief break in the flood on enemies, and Velthorn aimed at the mountainside and fired.
The hit practically brought the mountain down on the opposing enemy.
"Hey!" Bull exclaimed, giving Velthorn a heavy-handed pat on the back. "Good shot!"
A screeching roar sounded from above, a sound Velthorn was unfortunately familiar with. His mind was draw back to an enormous foot crushing a wall. His gaze was instantly draw upward.
"Dragon. The dragon," Velthorn said. He saw it against the white of the mountaintop. "Move!"
The creature hit the trebuchet the party had just been standing on with a blast of red fire. It didn't stick around to watch it burn. Instead, it swooped overhead and continued on, destroying the other trebuchet.
"We need to pull back! Head for the gates!" the elf cried to his companions.
Cullen had everyone gather in the Chantry, the only building not made entirely out of wood. Unfortunately, that meant it was packed full. Beyond full. They'd already had a few hundred of their own here. Added to that were the mages. People were practically on top of each other.
In the little space they had, the advisers met up. Cole sat in the corner beside a bleeding Roderick, who apparently tried to stop a Templar and ended up nearly gutted.
While discussing options, Roderick spoke, almost like a fever dream. Telling them of a path that could save the people. Tunnels hidden and nearly forgotten.
"It would take time to get everyone out," Cullen said.
"I'll buy some time. The Elder One came for me," Velthorn replied, "So I'll give him what he wants. I'll bury Haven, and hopefully the Elder One with it."
Obviously, this didn't sit well with any of them. Josephine had the slightest tremble in her lip. Leliana wouldn't meet his eyes. Cassandra looked like she wanted to hit something. Cullen simply looked uncomfortable.
"I'll go with him," Volyn offered, "If worst comes to worst, I can give us a way out."
"Yes," Cullen said, "You'll…You'll find a way."
"Just make sure you get them out. As many as you can," Velthorn told them.
"Herald," Roderick said, his voice breathy, "If you were meant for this…if all of this truly is by Divine will…I pray for you."
Velthorn left the safety of the Chantry and fought his way to the one remaining trebuchet. He used every spell he knew to carve a path through the Templars before they could use their own abilities on him. Volyn followed, killing anyone who was left behind.
The trebuchet was guarded when Velthorn reached it, but he quickly took out the two Templars and started to load the machine.
Just as he was about to start pulling the rope taunt, he heard something coming his way. Something large enough that he could hear its footsteps. At first, he was terrified it was the dragon. What he actually saw wasn't much better.
A mutated Templar came stomping around the corner, his legs nothing but huge spikes of lyrium. Magical discharge crackled all around the spines protruding from the Templar's body, which had become nothing but a crystal. One of his arms was still human sized and seemed grotesquely withered in comparison to the rest of him.
It gave a distorted cry and then the hulking mass was bearing down on him. He startled and fell, then backed against the beam of the trebuchet. His heart was pounding in his ears. His own mind was screaming at him to move, but he found himself frozen, staring at that awful, twisted face. That a person could become that…
"Fus Ro Dah!"
It was thunderous. A shock wave hurled through the air and hit the corrupted Templar, sending him shooting backward and into the rock behind him.
Volyn stepped forward, strange black sword in hand and still dripping with blood.
"Are you all right?" he asked, helping the elf to his feet.
"Yes, I'm fine," Velthorn replied, "What was that?"
"A Shout," the vampire said.
The Templar groaned, dislodging himself from the stone. He teetered, heavy body off balance, then righted himself. His sights were set on the two small figures before him.
Volyn charged the creature, sword at the ready. At about five feet, he changed direction, confusing the hulking mass and causing him to turn. Velthorn sent a barrage of icy magic right into the Templar's face.
It bellowed in rage and made a sharp turn back toward Velthorn, but now it couldn't see. It knocked itself off balance again and fell, giving Volyn an opportunity.
The vampire leapt, getting a good ten feet, and brought his sword down on the creature's chest. The blade stuck fast in the red lyrium growing from the Templar's body.
Volyn had to leave his sword behind to avoid getting swashed by a giant arm. Weapons weren't working on this thing, so it was time to try something else.
Velthorn cast a bolt of frost at the downed creature, coating the crystalline armor in a sheet of ice. At the same time, Volyn began to drain the Templar's life-force. The thing that used to be a man could do nothing to stop the attacks.
"Get that thing ready!" Volyn shouted to the mage.
Without answering, Velthorn made a break for the trebuchet. It was loaded, it just needed to be correctly aimed. The elf started to crank the lever, targeting the mountain directly behind Haven.
When it was done, and the Templar monstrosity was dead, the two stood together, watching.
"And now we hope this works," Velthorn said.
Volyn nodded grimly.
They weren't kept waiting long. A screech sounded from above.
"Dragon," Velthorn said.
"Sounds great," Volyn replied sarcastically, eyes scanning the heavens.
Volyn spotted it as it descended on them. He could just barely see it against the night sky, and it was coming on fast.
"Take cover!" the vampire warned, giving the elf a shove back toward the trebuchet.
As the dragon dropped from the sky, it opened its mouth and spewed a breath full of red fire that crackled with equally crimson lightning.
Both elves dove out of the way, but the blast knocked them off their feet. Volyn was thrown against the cliff, hitting with the full force of his body and falling to the ground, unconscious. Velthorn was thrown ten feet the other way and rolled over the frosty dirt. Bruised and dizzy, the Dalish struggled to get to his feet.
Someone was walking toward him, someone extraordinarily tall and thin. Behind him, the dragon had landed and bound up like an enormous dog. There was nowhere he could go now. He was trapped.
The thing that walked past the flames, the only real source of light, wasn't like anything Velthorn had ever seen. He, if that creature could be called that, was a twisted thing of metal, skin, and crystal. As he came closer, Velthorn realized it was red lyrium glistening inside his chest and sprouting from his face.
The creature came to a stop some ten feet from him, a baleful glare on the remnants of his face.
"Pretender," he said, "You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more."
"Who are you?" Velthorn asked, "What is all of this for?!"
The young elf gestured to the destruction around him, the destroyed buildings and piled corpses.
He smiled, and it made Velthorn's face pale to see it. "Know me. Know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One, the will that is Corypheus."
He raised his left hand, which Velthorn hadn't noticed before. He held some kind of orb covered in strange etchings. The orb began to glow, the grooves turning red.
"I am here for the Anchor. The process of removing it begins now." As he said it, Velthorn's marked hand began to glow brightly, showing through his glove. "It is your fault, Herald. You interrupted a ritual years in the planning and instead of dying, you stole its purpose. I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as touched, what you flail at Rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens."
The orb was sparking now, same as the elf's hand. The pain was growing too. He grasped his left wrist with his right hand, trying desperately to control the uncontrollable.
"And you use the Anchor to undo my work. The gall." Corypheus sneered.
Through clenched teeth, Velthorn spat, "Why did you create the Breach? What is all of this about?"
To Velthorn's horror, the Elder One came closer with long, quick strides. He grabbed the elf up by his marked arm and hoisted him up, leaving him dangling several feet above the ground. Velthorn had never felt so small in his life.
"I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the old gods of the Empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty."
With those words, he hurled Velthorn from him, sending him through the air and into one of the beams of the trebuchet. The elf fell to the ground with a grunt. He was dizzy and there was blood in his eyes.
"The Anchor is permanent. You have spoilt it with your stumbling. So be it." The Elder One began to walk toward him, the dragon following on his heels. "I will begin again. Find another way to give this world the nation, and god, it requires. And you. I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die."
Velthorn was on his feet, but he knew he had a very limited amount of time. He hoped the others were safety away. He hoped he'd bought them enough time.
"You are a fool," hissed a voice. Corypheus turned to look at the eyes glowing in the darkness.
With the attention diverted, Velthorn kicked the lever on the trebuchet, sending a massive rock sailing overhead.
"Strun Bah Qo!"
Velthorn didn't know what the words meant, but the sky suddenly went very dark and lightning began to lance through the air. Rain followed, icy and stinging. Within a few heartbeats, there was a massive storm to accompany the oncoming avalanche.
He was almost to the hidden tunnels when he felt something hit him from behind, launching him forward through the wooden planks blocking the entrance and into the darkness.