Awkward silence followed the child's greeting.
"What has happened to Orzammar?" asked Sereda anxiously.
"Orzammar and its residents have been destroyed." The child confirmed, its voice hard and precise. "That is, except you and you're brother."
"Why did you spare Bhelen?" Sereda enquired.
"If you want I can easily have him killed." The child threatened.
"No! No! Please don't!" Sereda begged. "He may be my political opponent, but he's my brother. I love him."
"I won't kill him as he has his uses." The child said.
Silence followed.
"Why did you do it, Warden?" the child asked abruptly.
"Did what?"
"Persuaded my… father to perform the ritual." the child said 'father' like it was a foreign word.
"I did it to save Alistair and Riordan… and if I'm honest, myself." Sereda admitted.
"Why would he agree though, if he knew the pain, the singing…" the child said, as if to itself.
"What singing?"
"The singing inside my head, the never ending song… calling me… commanding me, making me do all these things…" the child explained.
Sereda did something that she swore she never would. She took pity on the child, her enemy.
"If you tell me more I can help, I'll take the singing away." Sereda said gently.
For a moment the child's expression softened.
"Really?" she asked, as if she hardly dared to hope.
Then her expression hardened. "Nothing can help me, least of all you."
"I am going to be frank with you, Warden." the child said. "I am Urthemiel, fifth of the Old Gods and I am continuing with my ultimate goal. To conquer Thedas. But this time I will not be alone."
"What do you mean?" Sereda asked quizzically.
"I mean the last two of my brethren will join me. Even now the Architect is leading mining missions to the prisons that the Bright One placed my sisters into. When they are free the war begins."
"The Bright One?" Sereda asked, feeling terribly out of her depth.
"The Maker, I believe the humans call him." Urthemiel answered.
"Why do you need me?" Sereda inquired.
"You will be the thing that makes all my plans possible."
"How?"
"The relationship between the Chantry and the Wardens has been strained at best in the last few years. Wardens using blood magic, rescuing apostates from execution. Tut, tut. The Chantry aren't happy and it would only take a tiny little thing for a huge conflict. That little thing will be you."
"How do you mean?"
"This is what I mean." Urthemiel gave Sereda a letter. It said:
First Warden,
I, the Divine of the Andrastian Chantry, am unhappy. Your uncouth attitude to religion, most of all on the correct use of magic, has lead me to a route that I would have preferred to avoid.
We have Sereda, one of your senior Wardens. If the Wardens do not agree to disband immediately Sereda dies.
Her Holiness,
Divine Justinia II
Underneath was the seal of the Divine.
Despite the letter she laughed.
"You can't expect them to believe this!" Sereda scoffed. "The Chantry only have to deny having me and things will go back to normal."
"You don't understand. Both parties want an excuse for a war. Times are changing, the Chantry have weaker influence while the Wardens are only growing in power and number. Of course the Chantry will want to strike before things get out of hand."
"But why do this? How will it help your ultimate aim?"
"This war will devastate entire countries, destroy families and rip apart alliances. After that has happened Thedas will hardly be prepared for one Archdemon, not to mention three!"
Sudden realisation hit Sereda as the full scope of Urthemiel's plans became clear. Thedas didn't have a hope.
"Take her back to the cell!"
Sereda barely even resisted as six genlocks binded her wrists and lead her back to her prison.