Happy (belated) Valentine's Day! Unless you're like Revan, and your love is infinitely far away. Or you're like me, and you're such a nerd everyone is afraid to even speak to you...yeah...
Act IV: Brecilian Forest
The first thing Revan noticed was how clear it was with her eyes closed. Before, though she had been able to see every living creature, it had been dull compared to what she now saw. Everything glowed now, detailing the world around her without having to open her eyes at all. She saw her friends crowding around her cot; she could make out every crevice and line on their faces, every strand of their hair. And, with a strong force of will, she was able to shut it out, as if she was merely closing her eyes.
Revan opened her eye, her physical eye, and tilted her head to look at her friends. Lyna, Fenarel, and Tamlen were seated close to her cot, whispering amongst themselves so they didn't disturb her. Merrill, as usual, stood a few paces away, yet again distancing herself from the other members of her clan. Merrill noticed she was awake first. Revan smirked at Merrill, who gave her the normal wide-eyed, scared, cornered-doe look.
"Um, excuse me, but…" Merrill said quietly to the hunters, not looking away from Revan.
The others looked at her, saw where she was looking, and finally noticed that Revan was complacently watching them. "Mi'harel!" they cried, almost in unison.
"Hello to you all, too," she propped herself up on her elbow. It was then that she noticed that her entire body was stiff. "How long have I been out?"
Thus began the torrent of stories. Fenarel tried to answer her, while Lyna told about all that had happened while she had been unconscious and Tamlen argued with everything she said. Merrill looked at them, thoroughly confused and a bit disturbed. Revan quietly chuckled as they bickered good-naturedly with each other. Finally Merrill, out of desperation, cast a spell of silence over them with a wave of her hands. The three continued to argue for a few seconds until they figured out that no sound was coming out of their mouths. They all cast dark looks at Merrill, who purposely ignored them.
"You've been out for two days," the First said, rather matter-of-factly. "Or a day and a half, if you want to be technical, but really just two days. The Keeper expected you to be unconscious for a bit longer, so she told me to keep an eye on you, and these three just decided to stick around. You wouldn't believe how annoying they can be! I told them to leave a few hours ago, but they refused. They didn't understand that you might not wake up for—"
"You're rambling again," Revan pointed out.
She stopped, her hands in the air, and then asked with exasperation, "Are you even listening?"
Revan smiled, but otherwise didn't respond.
Finally, the spell broke on Lyna, Fenarel, and Tamlen. While Tamlen and Fenarel gave the First paralyzing dirty looks and murmured elvish curses under their breaths, Lyna cleared her throat. "Well? Can you use magic now?"
Merrill had explained enough about magic to Revan during their many conversations that she had a rudimentary knowledge of how to use the power. Or, at least, that's what she hoped. She extended her hand toward the open ground and, reaching into her mind, drew on the power there. She concentrated on it, remembering how to summon fire. A stream of fire shot from her hand, scorching the grass and earth. Her friends cheered as Revan let go of the mana, collapsing back on the cot. Apparently, the price for having magic was having little energy to use it.
Merrill grinned broadly. "Now I can teach you all about magic! Won't it be fun? I can already tell you will be a great mage!"
"Wait, doesn't this mean she can't hunt with us anymore?" Tamlen turned toward the First.
She retreated into herself again, becoming a timid introvert. "I…well, I…I don't—"
"Of course she can hunt with you," Marethari glided up behind her apprentice. "Now, Mi'harel has wearied herself enough. Go along now, there are still duties to be done today."
With a few grumbles, the three hunters got up, and giving Revan a look of farewell, left to go about their duties. Merrill bowed to the Keeper and retreated, fading into the background with ease.
The Keeper sat on a stump that one of the hunters had used and leaned forward. "So," she started, "how are you feeling?"
"Exhausted," Revan answered honestly. "Using magic is hard!"
Marethari smiled. "It should come easier with practice. I remembered the days of exhaustion I endured when I was a young First."
"It's hard to imagine you as 'young,' Keeper," she commented. Marethari laughed good-naturedly and strode off, leaving Revan to rest.
Over the next week, Merrill taught her the basics in magic. Gradually, basic spells became easier for her to use, but using magic was still tiring. Revan continued hunting with her friends, but Marethari had started asking her for help on a regular basis. She assisted the Keeper with various tasks, from herb drying to healing minor wounds. Marethari explained that Merrill was working on harder tasks, and she needed help with the more menial chores.
The Keeper had them move camp again a week later, taking them even closer to the western border of the forest. Lyna was a little nervous about being so close to human settlement, but Tamlen was looking forward to scaring some shems. Fenarel just shook his head in resignation. As they discussed the humans, Revan listened with wonder at how quickly they had forgotten her own race. It was as if she had always been an elf.
That illusion however, was quickly broken in a space of a few days.
Revan discovered two things in those days: one, if you did not remember your identity, someone else would, and two, high dragons always had nests. She discovered the second the following day, when she and her friend were scouting the area, as they usually did every time the camp moved. The Keeper had warned them that there was a village directly to the west, which they were to take precautions to avoid. So they had gone directly east, delving back into the deeper part of the forest. They had been expecting a lack of game because of the nearby human settlement, but the forest seemed unusually empty for early fall. No birds sang in the forest, no insects scurried along in the dirt, no squirrels nimbly leaped from branch to branch. Lyna mentioned the phenomenon, but Revan had been dying for a chance at action, and Tamlen was itching to use his bow, on animals or people. So, heedless of the danger, they pressed on. That was, until they heard the screams.
Revan could easily detect the two males screaming at the top of their lungs, half crying for help and half screaming in terror. They all exchanged a worried, wordless glance and bounded off in the direction of the screams, only to stumble directly into a nest of dragonlings and drakes, the dragon's male counterparts. The nest was little more than a hollowed-out depression in the ground with a shallow cave complex dug into one side of the cavity, but it was teeming with the scaly reptilians. The men were standing atop a boulder nestled on the side nearest Revan, mere inches away from pulling themselves to relative safety. The drakes were enjoying their cornered prey far too much, snapping and hissing at them, slowly driving them to the brink of mental collapse.
Without analyzing the situation at all, Revan boldly dashed toward the edge of the nest and jumped down, challenging all of the dragon's kin with her recklessness. She landed with one hand on the ground to absorb the shock and stabilize herself. All their proud heads snapped in her direction, which was when she realized that she had made a huge mistake. There were at least five drakes, and almost a hundred dragonlings, far too many for her to take on herself, even if she had dispatched their matriarch.
With a foolish grin, she accepted that it was too late to back out and drew her Poison Blade. Fury flashed in the drakes' eyes as they sensed the lingering scent of the blood of their mistress on the blade. She jumped up to face the nearest one just to find that and arrow was already protruding from its skull. The drake slumped to the ground, and Revan saw Fenarel knock another arrow. She grinned, and moved on to the next opponent. Soon, however, she was threatening to be overwhelmed. Dragonlings vied with each other to rip her to shreds with their small yet deadly claws. Drakes were a challenge, considering the constant threat of their fire and their highly armored skin.
She slashed left, ducked, parried up, cut right and down. Every one that fell was replaced by another. In desperation, she let a wave of magic explode around her, throwing all the dragonlings back and even momentarily staggering the drakes. Immediately Revan could feel weariness descending upon her from the effort, but she couldn't stop fighting. Not now.
It was then, when she was weak from exertion, that the drake struck. He spit a stream of fire, which Revan could only deflect in vain with her exposed forearm. She gasped in pain as the fire seared her skin, but when she looked down, her arm was fully intact. There were no burn marks, no scorched flesh turning black in the violent air, just pink flesh marred from the claws of her opponents when they had been lucky enough to land a blow. Revan couldn't contemplate the reason for this, considering that the drake was advancing upon her.
She dashed forward and rolled, slicing open the drake's soft underbelly. He let out a roar of pain, and, stumbling, died. The dragonlings suddenly stopped advancing, and with screams of grief, fled into the shallow caves at the other end of the crater. The fight was over. Without adults to hunt for them, the dragonlings would die of starvation.
Her friends lifted the terrorized humans up out of the nest and onto solid ground. Their posture was dominating, threatening, as if ready to draw their daggers and plunge it into the shems' hearts at any sign of resistance. Revan jumped, using the Force to negate gravity for a brief moment, and landed on the grass next to the humans. She could see the surprise in their eyes at a human in cohorts with elves, and she played upon this fact.
"Leave," Revan said with force as she meet their surprised stares. "Now."
The shems scrambled to their feet and ran as if still being chased by the dragons. They disappeared into the trees. Revan could sense Tamlen's displeasure that she had let them go, but she happened to have sympathy for her own race.
"That was perhaps the stupidest, and possibly bravest, thing I think I've seen anyone do," Fenarel commented.
"What? Letting them go?" Revan turned around to face him.
"No; facing an entire nest of dragons alone. What were you thinking?"
Revan shrugged, "I wasn't, actually."
Fenarel pressed a hand to his head in exasperation. "Well," Lyna started after a moment's pause, "it was a good thing we were here to save you then."
The two humans burst through the trees near their village, bloody, bruised, and breathless. They had been running for hours, driven on by fear. The villagers that had been leisurely strolling the streets stopped and rushed over to the two men, calling to their neighbors as they ran. Soon a crowd gathered around them. They were given water, food, blankets, and spirits to calm them down. Finally, one man, the blacksmith and self-appointed mayor, came forward to speak with them.
"What happened to you two?" he asked gruffly.
"D-d-d-dragons! And Dalish!" one of them stammered.
"Dalish?" The cacophony of whispers increased.
"And they had a human woman with them!" the other one added. The whispers turned into gasps and excited chatter as people assumed the direst of possibilities.
"Where did you see them?" the blacksmith grabbed the stammerer's shirtfront.
"T-t-to the e-east!" he confessed.
The blacksmith dropped the frightened man and turned toward the crowd. "Then we must take it upon ourselves to teach these heathen Dalish a lesson. We move tomorrow. At dusk."
Darkness had blanketed the forest in its cold embrace. Revan sat in Ashalle's aravel, practicing a few basic illumination spells while the rest of the clan slept soundly. She always enjoyed these small, private moments. She could contemplate her situation without fear of someone questioning the far-off look on her face, or the distance of space that was reflected in her eyes as she thought of her friends, or Carth, that were lightyears beyond her reach. How she missed him! Every moment away from him hurt, as if someone was constantly punching her in the stomach. It lessened when she was with others, but feeling it fully helped remind her why she was here on this forsaken world.
It was during these small hours that she began to feel, or rather see, the dim presences off in the woods to the west. They were growing closer. Her Force-granted premonition told her that they were malignant, malicious beings, and Force premonitions, however faint and obscure they were, were usually right. Revan grabbed the Poison Blade, but then thought better of it and drew out her lightsaber from among her few meager possessions. Then, without second thoughts, she set out in the darkness to stalk the spiteful souls.
Her special sight proved incredibly useful in the dark. She could see almost everything, faintly glowing with microorganisms that teemed upon practically every surface. So it was no surprise that she saw the humans before they had even suspected her presence. They were armed with crude weapons, from yew bows to pitchforks and shovels. Apparently their main strategy relied upon surprise. Or they could have been stupid. Or both.
Revan positioned herself in the darkest shadows in front of the human male supposedly leading the band of humans. She assumed he was the leader, considering that he was the largest and was walking in front of the rest of the shems. A shot of anger went through Revan as it became apparent that they were going to murder her clan. Her body began to shake imperceptibly, and only years of training allowed her to retain a semblance of control. Such was the difficulty of being neither Light nor Dark, but such thoughts were irrelevant at this point. Revan readied her lightsaber, though she did not activate it. Instead, she walked forward to meet the humans.
The leader stopped in his tracks as he finally saw her form approaching, mere meters away. He was a big man, but Revan had faced bigger. A large hammer was clutched in his hand. Apparently, he was surprised at her arrival.
"Turn back now," Revan said quietly with barely-restrained anger. "Or face the consequences."
"No, we will not turn back. You scum kidnapped an innocent woman! You will all die!" he spat.
Revan laughed. Later, the villagers would claim that when she looked back at the blacksmith, her eyes were tinged yellow. "You ignorant fool, I am the woman!"
Revan activated her lightsaber, temporarily blinding the villagers. She sprang forward, her every movement accentuated with the power of the Force. She slashed left and right. The villagers fell with barely a murmur in protest. But her anger quickly faded, giving way to the need to protect the innocent that every Jedi possessed. The Dalish had done nothing wrong, and yet these people would slaughter them all. She perfunctorily cut them down, one by one. Finally, the last one dropped to the ground. Breathing only mildly hard, Revan looked around as she deactivated her blade. That was when Marethari appeared.
The Keeper strode forward, a look of wonder upon her face. She kneeled next to one of the villagers and then looked to Revan. "He is alive!"
"They all are," Revan said mechanically. "It is wrong to kill those too ignorant to see beyond their own prejudices. How else will they learn to overcome what they were taught?"
Marethari found one of the villagers hiding safely in the bushes. She told him to fetch the other villagers to come and take their wounded back to the village. With an overly enthusiastic nod, he rushed off into the darkness. Revan stood among the men, surveying what she had wrought. The Keeper laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"There is something we need to discuss with you, Mi'harel," she said in a soothing tone and led Revan back to the camp.
Marethari took her into Master Ilen's aravel, where all the elders of the tribe, plus Merrill, were waiting. Revan, as numb as she was, looked at them in confusion. Before she could ask what was going on, Paivel began to speak.
"In all our history," he began, "the shems have mostly been our enemies. They brought us the quickening, they stripped us of our homeland, they bound us in chains. And, even when they deemed to help us, they abandoned us after we had served our part. Very few shemlins have proven themselves a friend to the Dalish. None have proven themselves to be worthy of the Dalish." He paused for effect. "Until you."'
"What?" Revan asked quietly, her brows knit in mild confusion.
"We welcome you, Mi'harel," the Keeper declared, "as a true clan sister."
Revan's eyes widened in shock. "Me? As…as a Dalish? But I'm a shem! I can't—"
"Ah, but you can," Ilen interrupted her. "You have the heart of a Dalish, if not the blood. And we—" he gestured to the other elders "—have agreed that in your case, the heart is more important than the mind."
Revan looked down, taking her situation in. Dalish…it made sense. But, given the general attitude towards humans, she had never actually expected to be fully initiated in the clan.
"Now," Ilen continued, "we feel you are ready to gain the vallaslin, the blood writing. It will show all those whom you meet that you are one of us, for they will doubt you."
"But, don't I need to prepare? Meditate on the gods?" Revan asked, a tad overwhelmed.
Merrill stepped forward. "The Keeper has asked me to assist you with this. I shall prepare you, and then you shall be given the gift of the vallaslin."
After a numb nod of compliance from Revan, the First took her by the arm and led her to a nearby spring to cleanse her skin. Merrill then explained the steps that she had to undergo, excitement coloring her speech. Revan absorbed it, nodding but not saying a word. She could still barely comprehend the fact that she was Dalish now.
She was led back to Ilen's aravel. He and Merrill would be the ones to give her the tattoos that would define her position as Dalish. They instructed her to lay on her stomach upon a table covered with tanned animal hides. Revan would remain awake through the process, for surviving the pain was part of the process. And it hurt. The pain was as intense as the blood ritual had been, but this time it didn't knock her unconscious. Usually, Ilen commented as he punctured her skin with fine needles that injected the ink into her skin, the tattoos were drawn on the face. But, considering her situation, they had decided to give her a more elaborate tattoo, one covering almost her entire back. Though she would suffer more pain, it would be Ilen's greatest work. He claimed that he and Merrill had been preparing it for months, waiting for the Keeper to decide when to initiate Revan. After hours on her stomach, they turned her over and did the last part of the design on her breastbone. She gritted her teeth, tears stinging her eyes, but none fell. Finally, as the early light of dawn philtered into the aravel, Ilen pronounced that they were finished.
Merrill looked overly pleased. An infectious smile burst onto her face, and, though Revan's entire body ached, Revan smiled back. "Come here," Merrill dragged her over to a mirror. "And look!"
Revan's eyes were immediately drawn to the dragon's head on her breastbone. It stared back at her with piercing black eyes. The head and neck were filled with intricate patterns and small, complex symbols. Revan followed its neck, which wrapped around her lower neck and moved onto her back. The dragon's body was even more elaborate than its head, filled with symbols and lines and simple yet elegant shapes. Its wings spread onto her shoulders; its tail wrapped itself around her left thigh. An eight-armed design was outlined boldly between the dragon's shoulder blades, and a dark circle with a dot directly in the center sat between its hipbones.
It was beautiful. Revan was speechless, but apparently her eye said it all. Merrill squealed a little in joy and then handed Revan her clothes. "I am so glad you like it!" she exclaimed as Revan gingerly put her clothes on. "The Keeper had me practicing the runes for almost a month!"
"Runes?" Revan asked innocently as she warily let her shirt slide down onto her back.
"Yeah," Merrill continued. "She told me, 'Make sure they're perfect! Mi'harel will need them!'"
Revan paused. "So, they aren't just designs?"
"Oh, no!" Merrill cried. "Those designs are ancient. At least, some of them are. Some I've never seen before, but most I've seen in ruins and such."
Revan nodded silently as she finished dressing. Seeing that she was done, Merrill led her out of the aravel and into a throng of elves. Almost every elf in the clan was waiting outside Ilen's aravel to greet their new clan sister. They touched her affectionately on the shoulder as she passed, not saying a word and yet conveying an enormous sense of pride and acceptance in a simple gesture. Revan felt happier in those few moments than she had since she had been alone with Carth. Merrill led her back to Ashalle's aravel, and with an affectionate hug, left to resume her duties as First. So, Revan stretched and tried not to aggravate her back. At least, she tried to, but minutes later Lyna, Tamlen, and Fenarel burst into the aravel. The swarmed her, hugging her and touching her still-sore shoulder in friendly jollity. It was after they had disentangled themselves from her that Revan noticed the long package Fenarel was carrying.
"This is from the clan," he said as a broad smile pasted itself across his face. "We thought it would be a little less conspicuous than the glowing blade you used last night."
Revan flushed slightly, but accepted the gift gratefully. She unwrapped it to find a beautifully crafted sword made of dragonbone. It was light, easily wielded, but it was sharp and deadly. Revan thrust it, feeling its balance and quality. There were few blades in the galaxy that could rival this one in fineness.
"It's…" Revan gazed at it reverently. "I…"
"Don't thank us," Tamlen cut her off. "We all know you saved the clan last night. We wouldn't have awoken this morning if you hadn't been here."
Another month went by. Revan had been fully accepted by the clan. It was as if she had been born in the clan. Her new life would have been perfect, if Carth had been there. But that month was one of the happiest she had ever had. Gradually, the pain of the tattoo had faded, and so had the human threat. And then it all came tumbling down.
It started one early morning when Tamlen and Lyna were out hunting. There had been nothing wrong when they had left, but as the day wore on, Revan became aware of a few dim beings in the distance. As soon as she felt them, she had known something was wrong. But she tried to ignore it. Certainly, it was nothing. But by midafternoon, there had been no sign of either Tamlen or Lyna. Revan feared the worst. She grabbed her blades and began tracking them as best as she could. Which, actually, turned out to be quite easy. Mangled humanoid creatures were sprawled every so often along a trail that was unfamiliar to Revan, but she followed it anyway. The mangled creatures were darkspawn. They glowed differently in her sight than any other living creature, but she had recognized them without it. Her heart beat furiously.
The trail led her through two rock faces and then stopped in front of an opening to a cave. Rubble was scattered near the entrance. Revan stopped cold as she saw a dark-skinned man leaning over what appeared to be Lyna's body. Her entire body went numb.
She quietly approached the man from behind, her dragonbone sword firmly in hand. He was engrossed in examining Lyna, so he never noticed her arrival. She stuck the tip of her sword on the back of his neck. He froze.
"What did you do to her?" Revan said coldly.
The man didn't move a muscle, but calmly said, "I am trying to help her."
Revan narrowed her eyes. "How can I trust you?"
"I don't know," he said, "but if you don't, she will die."
Revan glanced at Lyna's limp body. She could tell she was alive by the slight rise and fall of her chest, and there weren't any visible wounds on her body. But Revan could faintly see the glow of the darkspawn filling her body. The foul creatures had poisoned her. Revan knew from all those years ago that their corruption would kill the strongest man within days. Her shoulders slumped as all hope deserted her. She lowered her blade. The man was no threat now.
"She's been poisoned," Revan said quietly. "She will die anyway."
The dark man slowly turned to face her and stood up. A flicker of surprise flashed across his face as he realized she was human, but he wisely held his tongue.
"If she wakes up," he said, "I can help her."
It was then that Revan noticed the corruption running through his own veins. She shied away from him. "You are poisoned, too!"
The man smiled sadly. "Yes, I am. I am a Grey Warden."
Revan felt her old weariness of Wardens return. She had been told Wardens were the enemy the first time she had been in Thedas. Now, she knew the opposite to be true. Still, old habits die hard.
"How did you know? That their blood ran through us?" he asked.
This time, Revan gave him a sad smile. "I'm just talented, I guess."
The man wasn't satisfied with the answer, but he didn't press her further. Instead, he slung Lyna's arm around his shoulder, lifted her off the ground, and asked Revan to lead them back to the camp. Though she was still suspicious of him, Revan complied. She couldn't let Lyna die.
"Did you see another? A man, about her age?" Revan asked as they began walking.
"No," he stated. "I had sensed the darkspawn in the area, and when I arrived, I found her unconscious outside the ruins."
Revan nodded. She would have to tell the Keeper that Tamlen was missing.
The Keeper was, thankfully, the first to notice their arrival at camp. She hurried over as soon as she noticed Lyna's limp body in the man's arms.
"What happened?" she said, leading them to her aravel.
"Darkspawn," the man stated simply.
"And Tamlen is missing," Revan added.
"Quickly," she opened the door. "I might be able to stop the spread of the poison, but we must act fast."
She pulled out a cot, which the man laid Lyna on. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead. The Keeper kneeled next to the cot and began murmuring ancient words of healing over her body. A faint blue light emanated from her hands. Revan, trying to make herself useful, went for some cold water to try and keep her fever down. She returned to find everything as she had left it. The man stood in the corner, waiting patiently, and Marethari stood chanting over Lyna. Revan grabbed a cloth, soaked it in the water, and held it on Lyna's forehead. The girl was burning hot.
Finally, Marethari finished her little chant and turned to the man. "We have met before, but the memory is distant."
"Yes, it is," the man agreed. He crossed his arms and bowed. "I am Duncan, the Grey Warden."
"And I am Marethari, Keeper of the Sabrae Clan," the Keeper bowed back. "And this is—"
"—Dragonheart," Duncan interrupted her, nodding gravely. "At least, that is what the humans are calling her."
Revan and the Keeper exchanged a confused glance. "Dragonheart?" Revan repeated.
"Yes," he answered. "Rumors of a human Dalish travel fast. And so did your feat of slaying an entire nest of dragons."
Revan grimaced, about to protest, but Marethari cut her off. "Mi'harel, I need you to fetch Merrill. You, Duncan, and Merrill will go to the ruins and find out what happened to Tamlen, and how Lyna got poisoned. I will try to save her."
Revan bowed to her in understanding and left, the Grey Warden trailing after her. Merrill was nearby, gathering herbs just outside of camp. She was totally oblivious to what was happening.
"Oh, hello, Mi'harel! Who is—"
"Lyna has been poisoned by darkspawn and Tamlen is missing. The Keeper wants you to come with us to search for him," Revan told her bluntly.
The First's face grew deathly pale. "W-what? Tamlen…? Lyna…!"
Revan nodded gravely. Merrill clutched her head, muttering to herself, cursing her pantheon of gods. Finally, she got control of herself. She took a deep breath and exhaled it, and then met Revan's eye. Duncan stood silently behind them, like a stone guardian.
"Okay, I'm ready," she said, obviously steeling herself for the worst.
Without a word, Revan spun and led them out of the camp. No one stopped them. Revan led them down the trail and into the cave, which had already been overrun with darkspawn. Something had attracted them to the ruin, and that something had probably poisoned Lyna. Merrill was awed at this hidden ruin, since it showed evidence of being inhabited by the elves and humans of old. Revan slayed the monsters without emotion, but also without mercy. Every time she looked in their eyes, she could see a faint flash of recognition before the life fled them. It made her sick. However, she could sense Duncan watching her very carefully, perhaps measuring her up.
Finally, they came across a large, metal door hanging slightly open. Revan threw it open to find a room teeming with darkspawn. They all looked up at her arrival and screeched at her. Mechanically, she raised her hand and let out a torrent of energy in the form of lightning, a power she had learned as a Sith. The lightning struck down almost all of the darkspawn within milliseconds. The rest Merrill dispatched with a stream of fire from her staff. Unfortunately, her little trick had taken what was left of her energy. She leaned heavily against the doorframe and surveyed the room as her energy returned. In the center of the room was a full-length mirror upon a pedestal, with two giant statues on either side. The statues were identical, made of stone and resembling ancient warriors. However, the mirror was blank. It reflected nothing.
Duncan walked cautiously up to the mirror. "This is what caused the taint," he said matter-of-factly.
"That's…" Merrill started, slowly approaching it with reverence.
"…an Eluvian," Revan finished. "It must be ancient."
Duncan then pulled out his sword and stabbed it through the mirror. The glass shattered, and Merrill let out a cry of anguish.
"Why did you do that?" she cried, falling to her knees. "That was a piece of our history! That was a piece of what we had lost!"
"It also poisoned your friend and brought the darkspawn here," Duncan said coolly. "It needed to be destroyed so no one else will fall victim to its power."
He descended the steps and gingerly lifted the sobbing First to her feet. "Our work is done here. I'm sure the Keeper needs you two."
Revan gave him a curt nod. She knew they could do nothing for Tamlen. He was gone, and hopefully dead. Death, Revan knew, would be a mercy.
Merrill, however, didn't realize this. "And Tamlen? What of him? Are we just going to leave him?"
"He's gone, Merrill," she said sadly. "He is beyond our help."
Hearing it from Revan was like a slap in the face for Merrill. Her eyes widened in grief, the breath knocked from her chest. Only Duncan's strong arms kept her on her feet. Supporting her, the Grey Warden followed Revan out of the ruin and back to the camp. They headed to Marethari's aravel, where Ashalle and Fenarel waited anxiously. Revan didn't have to say a word. Ashalle turned away, tears in her eyes, and Fenarel numbly took a chair and stared blankly ahead. Marethari didn't stop chanting. She barely noticed their arrival, but Revan had the feeling that she had known Tamlen's fate as soon as Revan and Duncan had brought Lyna back.
For hours, possibly days, the four of them waiting with bated breath for Lyna's fever to break. Marethari continued to chant away, refusing to eat or sleep, but Merrill, perhaps to keep herself busy, made sure the others had at least a bit of bread to eat. Duncan seemed the calmest of them all, but that was because he had no connection to the girl. At last, Lyna opened her eyes. They were dull and clouded, a sure sign of darkspawn corruption. Revan and the others rushed to her side, and Marethari stopped chanting for a second. Revan took her hand, which was still scalding hot.
"Tam…"she whispered hoarsely, sweating profusely. Even speaking a single word took a huge effort on her part.
"He's fine, Lethallan," Revan lied.
Lyna cracked a small smile, and closed her eyes. Her chest started to rise less and less, and finally, it stopped. She had died. Ashalle let out a cry of grief. Marethari began singing in a low yet clear voice. Revan recognized the song as an ancient elvish song about how death was not the final part of the journey. Revan began singing along with her, and then Fenarel joined.
It was after their solemn ritual that Duncan took her aside and asked her to become a Grey Warden.