He walked out in the gray light and stood and he saw
for a brief moment the absolute truth of the world.
The cold relentless circling of the intestate earth.
Darkness implacable.
Borrowed time and borrowed world
and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.
―Cormac McCarthy, The Road
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He wasn't sure what to make of her, this Dalish woman who'd accroached his power from the Elder One.
She hardly spoke at all as they traveled through the frozen landscape along the treacherous mountain path. Solas followed behind the group at a staggered pace, to better observe them, though his eyes were more often than not drawn to her over the others.
Bearing his Anchor afforded her priority in regards to his interest.
She was a wary creature, but understandably so given the treatment she'd been subjected to. She dropped her guard at times — ever so slightly — for the dwarf, but otherwise remained withdrawn as they traveled onward.
Twice now, she had closed rifts that had been torn through the Veil and each act of using the Anchor taxed her body more than the previous. Even if she had been at the peak of her health, closing the rifts would have been daunting and exhausting for her. That she'd been able to accomplish it at all in her current state was nothing short of miraculous. Days of incapacitation without sustenance had whittled her, though she hid her exhaustion well and made no complaints as they trekked onward. Still, it was obvious to him that she was on her last legs. If he concentrated, he could sense the erratic pace of her heart through the Anchor, beating out a frantic epilogue.
She was dying with every step she took.
He was not certain that she would be able close the Breach, let alone survive the attempt, but there were no other options left to him but to let this play out — whatever the outcome. Time was quickly running out, and the hole in the sky widened with each passing moment.
The closer that they traveled towards the Breach, the heavier its pull became. He could feel the gravity of its power tugging at him, and he was certain that she could as well through the Anchor. He could see it in the way she seemed to struggle simply to keep moving, as though she were wading through deep water. And ever so often, she would clench her fist, opening and closing it against the sensation of the magic pulling at and through her.
He had done what he could to calm the Anchor, but if it continued to pain her, she did not let on about it. Aside from the occasional frown, her face was a mask of indifference. Guarded, and still as an undisturbed lake.
Tranquil.
Just as all the rest.
A shadow cast by the last light of a dying world.
Yet, as they trekked further up into the mountains, the mask she wore slipped and something came alive in the Dalish woman.
Her eyes were drawn continually to the landscape as they ascended higher above the world below, and she stopped often along the way to drink in the sight of it all with wide eyes and breathlessness. Brief moments where her face was as open as the landscape around them. Her vested interest stirred questions in him, and he idly considered asking her if she'd traveled through many mountains before, or if she simply thought it a beautiful sight. But for all the meager questions asked of her, she gave little of herself and otherwise kept to her silence stubbornly.
And it mattered little, in the long run.
If she survived closing the Breach, she would inevitably die later from the effects of carrying the Anchor. If she somehow survived until he could reclaim it safely, she would likely die when the Veil was brought down, as many were likely to. His only concern should have been for her survival to that point, insofar for her usefulness, not how many mountains she'd traveled through or how lovely she found them to be. The Elder One had complicated the route he needed to take to achieve his goal in restoring this world to what it once was before; there was no need to add further complication by mistaking her passing interest as little more than reaction to stimuli.
They were not People, after all. Only mayflies drawn to what little light was left in this world. But if she died before the Breach could be sealed, it would swallow the world. And then there would be nothing left for his People, or for anyone — immortal and mortal alike.
And that was unacceptable.
He needed to stay focused on what was at stake.
The path cut off suddenly where the mountain became impassable; a network of platforms and ladders had been constructed along a foundation of layered stonework. The wooden framework was solid, if old, but no less treacherous as it was sheeted with ice.
The wind whipped fiercely against them — a grim reminder that all it took was one strong gust to sweep them unceremoniously to their deaths.
It was not a comforting thought.
What a terribly mundane end to the Dread Wolf that would be, he thought to himself, with dark amusement.
"The tunnel should be just ahead, above these platforms," Cassandra noted. "The path to the temple lies just beyond it."
"These ladders don't look very stable to me," Varric grumbled, eyeing the framework with unease. They groaned and creaked with every gust of the wind.
Solas hooked his staff to his traveling pack, before ascending the ladder to the platform above. He climbed swiftly, his long legs skipping several rungs at a time. At the top, he turned and shot a smile down at the dwarf, "It seems quite steady to me, Master Tethras."
"Show off!" the dwarf shot back, with a laugh.
Cassandra was second up the ladder, though slower and more careful in her climbing. The Dalish woman came third, and slower still. Her arms shook with each upward pull of her body.
Solas crouched and reached down as she neared the top of the ladder, to offer assistance. She stopped at the sight of him reaching for her, and rewarded him with a sharp frown as she remained there on the ladder and once again rebuffed his assistance. Not that he could very well blame her. She was still clearly rattled by her experience in the chantry prison, but her continued refusal to be aided in any manner, no matter how inconsequential, was becoming tedious.
Or perhaps it was just Dalish stubbornness bleeding through.
"Ma nuvenin," he said, tersely. He stood and moved away from the ladder.
As she struggled up the last few rungs, Cassandra gave an impatient huff and bent down to grab the woman by the collar of her coat. The Seeker hauled her bodily up onto the platform, and pulled the elf to her feet.
Scowling, she pulled herself out of Cassandra's grip. "I had it."
"If you fall, we all die," the Seeker stated, not unkindly.
"I don't plan on dying today," the elf shot back, though she wavered where she stood.
Cassandra produced a vial of elfroot serum, "Take this."
The elf's jaw tightened, working soundlessly as she tried and failed to produce a counter argument. Without a word, she relented and took the vial. She downed it without further protest.
"Take a breath. Then we move on," the Seeker said.
The platform they idled on was fairly small as it was with the three of them, but when the dwarf came huffing up the ladder, it forced the Seeker to continue up the next ladder.
Varric clambered up next to the elf, and bent to lean on his knees as he quipped, "Come on, Snowflake. If I can get up these ladders, so can you."
"I'm not sure which of us is struggling more," she replied, before giving the dwarf a curious look. "Snowflake?"
"All that white hair and lashes," Varric huffed, as he caught his breath and gestured broadly at her where frost had caught to her hair and face. "You're practically made out of them," he added, with a laugh. "Disposition and all."
Solas had to admit, it was an apt observation. Poetic even, given their surroundings.
In the prison beneath the Haven chantry, he had not gotten a proper look at her beyond what the candlelight illuminated. And truly, he'd been more focused on the Anchor than the woman herself, but here in the daylight he could better appreciate her striking appearance.
She was descended from the elves of the Tirashan — however distantly — of that much, he was certain. White hair was not exclusive to their tribes, by any means; it was her eyes which gave her away. Impossibly dark and deeply set, and framed with thick white lashes and brows. A perpetual flush bordered her eyes and edged the wide lines of her cheekbones. It gave her a distinct, fevered look about her.
It made him think of older tribes, of older times, of a world that was all but gone.
The dwarf gave a laugh, "It's either that, or "Sticks", for those skinny little things you elves call legs."
The woman flushed, but there was something close to amusement in the way she looked at the dwarf. Yet when she took notice of Solas's scrutiny, it slipped away.
Had he really gotten so far off on the wrong foot with her?
A frown settled there now on her face, in the place of warmth, and the expression pulled at the lines of her vallaslin. There was a dark bruise blooming there where she'd slammed her forehead into the templar's face previously.
"Your vallaslin," Solas mused, to divert her suspicion. "I would have assumed a hunter such as yourself would have chosen to bear Andruil's mark." Solas stifled his amusement as the elf stiffened, ever so slightly. Was she really so surprised he could tell that she was a hunter? The Dalish had such rigid prospects for their children — Keepers, firsts and seconds, lore-keepers, warleaders, hearthmistresses and midwives, and the scouts and hunters who were often one and the same. So little room for them to be anything else.
"You are a hunter, are you not? Why then Ghilan'nain?" he asked.
She gave him a measured look, before replying, "It was my mother's mark."
Her response was flippant, as thought it didn't matter at all to her.
Was she jesting?
From his observations, albeit limited in their scope, the Dalish took great pride and care in choosing which mark they would bear for life. It wasn't just an act of piety — however misguided — but also a reflection of the self, made after a period of time spent meditating on one's own path in life. It was a statement to the world: I am Dalish. Yet to have simply chosen it because her mother had borne it before her seemed banal, at best.
It was a deviation.
Unexpected, but not at all unwelcome.
"Surely there is more to it than that," he mused, keeping his tone even and mild, as he didn't wish to provoke her further. His curiosity was piqued, and he did not wish to dissuade her or cause her to think he meant to mock her.
The Dalish were always so quick to anger when pushed on the subject of their beliefs.
"Must there?" She quirked an eyebrow, regarding him with those startlingly dark eyes. Even in the full sun, he could just barely discern the pupils from the irises. It made her expressions harder to read, and at times completely unfathomable. "It was be marked, or be cast out," she said, finally.
"And so you were," he observed.
There was more there that she was omitting, but this was not the time to ask, and he wasn't certain she was willing to divulge it anyhow. Perhaps if she survived this endeavor, he would hear tell of it.
"We should keep moving," the Seeker urged, before starting up the next ladder.
"No rest for the weary," the dwarf sighed, and followed after in resignation.
As they moved onward, the Dalish woman stepped easier. The potion was only a temporary solution and would not last long, but for now it helped her manage the ladders. Solas ascended last, in the off chance that she slipped or lost her footing.
The Seeker was right; if the elf fell, then all was lost. He did not mean to let her die uselessly.
The final platform swept around an outcropping of the mountain, which then opened up into a massive tunnel. It was an old structure, and their footfalls echoed deeply into it as they entered. There were fresh torches in the sconces on the walls, and clusters of candles left alight along the walkways. They couldn't have been left burning more than an hour, by his estimate.
Solas looked to the Seeker, and asked, "What manner of tunnel is this, a mine?"
"Yes," Cassandra replied, "Part of an old mining complex. These mountains are full of such paths. The Temple of Sacred Ashes was built from stone quarried here."
"And your missing soldiers are in here somewhere?" Varric's voice echoed ahead of them, and deep into the mountain.
"Along with whatever has detained them," Solas surmised, albeit speaking more quietly than the dwarf.
"We shall see soon enough," the Seeker said, as she wrested a torch free from a sconce on the wall before moving onward. She knew this path well enough that there was little apprehension in her steps.
The elf moved at a slower pace, but it wasn't exhaustion that slowed her. Her eyes pored over the wooden beams and stonework that held the mountain above them, full of curiosity. As they turned down a hallway and onto a bridge, the mountain opened up around them and fell away.
She immediately wandered to the railing, and leaned over to peer down into the abyss below, mouth parted with breathlessness. She gripped the stone until her knuckles went white, but still her curiosity overtook her fear as she took in the sight of it.
Frustration coiled inside of him. The world was ending, and here she was idling at every turn.
He went to where the elf lingered, meaning to remind her of the task at hand, of the sheer gravity of their situation. Yet when stopped beside her, he found himself drawn in by the awe on her face.
Solas leaned his hip against the railing, and asked, "Are you frightened of such heights?"
"I would be stupid not to be," she replied. "But it's beautiful, nonetheless."
He followed her gaze to see what she saw, but there was nothing but stone and ice and abject darkness.
It was nothing, and yet, here at the end of the world, with nothing left but borrowed time, this shadow of an elf looked out on what little was left to see on their path to the end and found it beautiful.
It gave him a strange sense of pause.
"Come," Cassandra called, growing frustrated with the elf's meandering pace. "We must keep going."
The Dalish woman let go of the railing, and followed after the Seeker.
Solas pushed aside the surprise he felt at her unpredictable behavior, and followed after. He let his thoughts turn back to contingency plans.
Those, at least, made sense to him.
If the woman indeed failed to seal the Breach, or failed to at least stabilize it, fleeing was the only immediate option available to him.
His agents waited in small camps in the wilderness skirting the destroyed temple, and with several near Haven. If it came to failure, they would need to retreat. He would have to flee to the ends of Thedas, to spend what time he had left searching for another way to fix this. He hoped it would not come to that. If she died before closing the Breach, or was very likely to, he would have to take the Anchor. There was no knowing if he was ready for that — he was reasonably certain he wasn't, and the effort alone would not be without consequences. It could just as well kill him outright, as it should have killed the magister. And then the world would truly be lost.
That thought settled heavily in him, but—
There was no path but forward.
He repeated it to himself in a steady mantra to keep himself moving ever toward his goal; he could not leave any room for doubt.
The tunnel through the mountain was not a long one, and at the exit they found the missing scouts. Their bodies were strewn across the opening, bloody and torn and had been dead for some time now. Ice was already forming in their still-open eyes.
"Ah," Varric sighed, his face grim. "Guess we found them."
Cassandra gave a tight look of dismay, but it was brief as she hardened herself to the sight of them. She discarded her torch in the snow. "That cannot be all of them," she said, stepping carefully around the bodies. "Leliana would not send such a small squadron through this pass."
"So the others could be holed up ahead?" The dwarf looked out down along the path ahead, as if he expected to catch sight of them somewhere down in the snowy hills.
Another distraction.
A great sense of urgency pressed on him, pushing him to urge them along their path, to keep them on course. To play their part. No matter how he preferred to avoid the useless loss of life whenever it was reasonably avoidable.
"Our priority must be the Breach," Solas reminded, as he concealed the desperation growing inside of him. "Unless we seal it soon, no one is safe."
Varric gestured at the elf, "I'm leaving that to our elven friend here."
She looked between them with a tight expression, and said nothing. Her frowns were becoming a familiar sight at this point, down to the small vertical crease that formed between her eyebrows.
It was strange to see one denied so thoroughly of agency or power, to shirk it when offered, no matter how small. It made a puzzle of her, one Solas was keen to solve.
The dwarf softened, and tapped her arm playfully, "Come on, kid. It's only the end of the world. No pressure or anything."
She started after the Seeker, without a word. Her steps were growing heavier now, her pace more staggered. If she hadn't before, she certainly felt the weight of the Breach now as it was almost directly overhead.
Halfway down the steep path from the mountain, they heard the sounds of a frantic clash between soldiers and demons. When they cleared the hill, they caught sight of a rift above a paved overlook. The stone walls that bordered it were flanked at either end with two massive statues. The soldiers were all but overwhelmed by the shades and demons that had been pulled through the rift.
The path, however, veered away.
Cassandra regarded the elf, whose disposition shifted visibly. The question remained unspoken, but was understood by all.
She gave a terse nod, and slipped the bow from her shoulder.
As before, the Seeker charged headfirst into the conflict without hesitation. She barreled through the demons, using her shield to clear a path to reach her fellow soldiers. Tall as the demons were, they were slight of form and moved on spindly limbs. It did not take much to throw them off-balance.
The dwarf was at his side, already firing upon the creatures with quick efficiency.
Solas struck the ground with the butt of his staff; barrier magic snapped around the two of them. A quick glance around himself revealed a sudden, startling truth; the Dalish woman was nowhere to be seen.
Fenedhis!
At first, he considered the possibility that she would run, but despite her anger she had been compliant with the Seeker. Had she simply been waiting for a distraction to make her escape? His eyes swept the battlefield, and still he did not catch sight of her.
If there was ever a time to slip away, the midst of combat was a good one.
His stomach lurched with a sudden, sick anxiety, but there was a demon charging at him that demanded his immediate focus; he thrust his staff forward and sent wave after wave of blistering fire at the creature. It shrieked horribly at him, trying to push its way through force of the spells to reach him. It finally succumbed and fell to the ground. Just past its twitching, dying body, he caught sight of the elf.
It was if she'd appeared from nothing, ducking out from the chaos in a shimmer. A trick of the light, or perhaps sweat in his eyes.
She raised her hand to the rift and activated the Anchor. His magic pulsed from her and into the rift. No hesitance as before, body locked and braced against the pushback. All around her, the battle swarmed as demons clashed with the soldiers and fell shrieking to their deaths, but her focus was entirely on the rift. He watched as she figured it out for herself; fingers flexing, as if trying to grab hold of something, arm shaking as she struggled to pull. And then, like a cord drawn too tight, it snapped. The aftershock blew her back in a stumble as the rift collapsed.
The last demon fell, and Cassandra put a boot to its chest as she yanked her sword free from where she'd buried it between its ribs.
Solas stepped toward the elf, noting the way she clenched her fist against the pain of using the Anchor. No matter how he calmed the Anchor, it would always pain her after each use because it was not hers to use and did not belong in her body. It was no different than if she'd been trying to use a sword without a hilt. Still, she had managed to seal it without assistance, and quicker than before. She was improving. And perhaps with the stabilization of the Breach, it would become a bearable burden to carry.
"Sealed, as before," he said, letting his tenuous optimism color his tone. There was no harm in encouraging her. "You are becoming quite proficient at this."
Varric was at her other side, and laughed, "You've impressed the apostate. That's quite the achievement. Let's hope it works on the big one, yeah?"
The elf simply gave a grim smile in return, not at all convinced that she could pull it off.
The Seeker pulled one of the soldiers to her feet, helping her to stand. The soldier gave a groan of pain, before gasping, "Lady Cassandra! Maker, am I glad to see you!"
"I'm glad to see you're alive as well, Lieutenant," Cassandra replied, clearly pleased despite her effort to remain professional.
"Just barely," the Lieutenant laughed, lifting her forearm. It was crudely bandaged, and a considerable amount of blood had soaked through. The other two soldiers looked no less worse for wear. "Thank the Maker you finally arrived, Lady Cassandra. I don't think we could have held out much longer."
"Thank our prisoner, Lieutenant," the Seeker said, turning to give the Dalish woman a measured look. "She insisted we come this way."
"The prisoner?" The Lieutenant gave Cassandra a puzzled look, before turning it on the elf. "Then you...?"
The elf stood rooted where she was, tensed. Still wary. As if she had expected something other than the soldier's surprise. But there was something else in her face when she finally spoke.
"It was worth saving you, if we could," she said, and bent slightly to incline her head toward the soldiers.
It was a sincere admission — of that he was certain — and it was concern he saw in her face, despite whatever else she felt of the situation she was in. It heartened him, in some small way, to see that she felt concern beyond simply her own fate.
Perhaps he had underestimated this Dalish woman.
The soldier stepped forward briskly, thrusting her fist against her chest and declaring, "Then you have my sincere gratitude, ma'am."
"The way into the valley behind us is clear for the time being. Go, while you still can," the Seeker instructed.
"At once," the Lieutenant replied. "Quickly, let's move!"
The soldiers left with haste, despite their condition.
Solas moved to lean on his staff, and remarked, "The path ahead appears to be clear of demons, as well."
The Seeker moved past them, and headed down the path as she said, "Let's hurry before that changes."
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More ladders.
Wonderful.
At least going down them proved easier than climbing up. She waited until the last of them cleared the ladder, before hooking herself around the side of it. With a shift of the grip in her hands and boots, gravity took care of the rest. She slid swiftly to the bottom and landed in a crouch.
The dwarf hooted at her, "Well, that's one way to do it!"
As she watched them descend the next, the dwarf called up, "So you remember nothing at all? Not even how you survived?"
"Only before," she called down. "I remember watching them march in. I've never seen so many people in one place before. Nothing after that, though, not until the prison."
"Should have spun a story," the dwarf reminded, almost playfully. "No one ever buys the amnesia bit, even when it's true. And it's not like holes just accidentally happen to open in the Fade, right?"
Tephra slid down the last ladder to join them at the bottom. Her knees ached something fierce as she straightened, and followed after them down the path. She listened to them as they continued to theorize and make sense of what lay before them.
"If enough magic is brought to bear, it is possible," Solas replied, as he fell in step with Varric.
She was glad that the subject took his attention from her. The apostate's frequent stares were starting to unnerve her. It felt curiously as though he were looking through her, as though she wasn't really there.
Whatever he'd expected of her, she had the strange certainty that she wasn't it.
The dwarf shot Solas a curious glance, "There are easier ways to make things explode, without—" Varric gestured broadly at the sky, "—doing that."
"That is true," the apostate agreed. "Yet that is assuming the explosion — and the destruction of the Conclave — was the intended result. I am not so certain it was, but merely the casualty of a larger design."
Cassandra turned on her heel, briefly walking backwards as she said, "You think someone intended to create the Breach?"
"Perhaps," Solas mused. "Or perhaps it also is another byproduct of what was truly intended. Without the truth, there is only speculation."
Tephra flexed her hand. Whatever had happened, and whatever had been intended, it had left its mark on her. A hole in her as much as the one in the sky.
The path ended at a final stone staircase that descended into the temple proper.
"The Temple of Sacred Ashes," Solas observed, staring up at the jagged peaks of the crater's rim.
"What's left of it," the dwarf muttered, stepping through the rubble.
The others continued on, but she came to a sudden halt at the top of the stairs, rooted in place as she was confronted by the terrible sight of it all.
At first, Tephra didn't understand what she was looking at. Her eyes wouldn't register it as the same landscape she'd seen just days before.
The temple was gone, as was the hill it was built upon. All that remained was a massive crater, rimmed with jagged peaks of rubble and stone that had fused in the heat of the explosion. Veins of green energy burned in them — Fade magic that had been embedded into the rock itself. Smoke continued to pour from it, from the areas still on fire. Parts of the temple walls remained, though tumbled and broken and shifted into new arrangements during the collapse. The funnel of verdant energy gyrated slowly from the heart of it all, stretching up to the hole in the sky.
It didn't feel real.
There was a macabre sense of unreality to it all.
Even after all of the bodies of the dead along the way, the demons and the rifts, the Breach above, and now this — it still felt like some waking nightmare she couldn't free herself from.
She turned on her heel and scanned the horizon for the tree she'd been in, hardly four days past. Where she had lounged, squirreled away in obscurity, as she ate winter peaches and watched the forces march in. The hill it had been on stood adjacent to the crater; it was blackened and charred from fires that had long-since died out, and all the trees had been blown flat from the blast.
Creators, there's nothing left.
How had she survived?
She felt numb as she stumbled along after the others as they descended into the temple. Her stomach heaved and churned sickly, and she was glad that it was empty for she would have surely vomited by now otherwise.
With each step, her cursed hand felt heavier. Even raising her head to stare up at the Breach took considerable effort; it felt as if the whole sky was pushing down on her. The urge to turn on her heel and run was overwhelming.
How in the fucking Void am I supposed to make this right?
"There."
The Seeker stopped, and pointed at an indeterminate space in the wall of the crater's rim. "That is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you. They said you collapsed immediately, and behind you in the rift they saw a woman. No one knows who she was."
Briefly, the image of the glowing woman appeared in her mind. Reaching for her, taking hold of her hand. Had she been saved by that woman, whoever she was?
When she could offer no answers, they moved on.
Another turn, another ledge down, and then—
The bodies.
The smell hit her first, overwhelming her senses, and then they were all she could see.
These were far worse than the ones that came before. They were twisted in agony, frozen in their last terrible moments before death. All flesh and identity stripped away in the blast and the following fires. Some were still burning. Arms outstretched, reaching for help, for anything, for—
Tephra staggered to the side and dropped to her knees, retching. Nothing came up but bile. Still, her body heaved from the horror of it all. After a moment, there was a hand at her back.
"You okay, kid?"
Tephra sat back on her heels, and let out a shaky breath as her stomach finally stopped heaving. Her breath came quick and shaking, but she nodded. She didn't trust herself to speak yet, lest she start throwing up again.
Varric patted her back, gently. When she moved to stand, he offered his hand to help and she let him.
They moved beyond the bodies and further into the fallen temple, descending into a mazework of broken walls. There were more of the dead along the way, and she could not help but look at them. There was nothing she could do for them, but witness what was done to them. They deserved at least that.
Ahead, the ruin of the temple had been haphazardly constructed into an almost amphitheater of ruined levels. In the center of the crater, all that remained was the towering statue of Andraste. Her head and a portion of her torso had been cleaved off from the explosion, and the remaining arm was raised toward the hole in the sky. Hovering just before her was a massive rift.
"Breach is a long way up," Varric said, turning a slow circle as he stared up at it.
Her eyes followed the river of energy that bled from the rift, stretching up into the sky in a funnel of power that fed into the Breach. Around it, the heavens churned in a slow gyre.
Her head swam with dizziness and she found herself staggered by the sheer size of it.
There were no words for it, nor the existential horror it elicited in her to behold it.
Not just what she saw with her eyes, but with what she could sense beyond it — the whole of the Fade pressing down on her. It was so unfathomably massive, so colossal, so beyond anything that she could conceive of, and beyond that still, the Void itself, and all of it was pressing down against the hole in the sky as it funneled its way out, pressing down against the world, against her—
"You're here! Thank the Maker!"
Tephra turned to see Leliana come running from the corridor they'd just passed through. A squadron of soldiers followed after.
"The Commander's forces are holding the valley as we speak. What precious time we've bought, we had better make it count," she informed.
Cassandra gave a tight nod, "Have your men take up positions around the temple. We do not have time to waste here."
Leliana gave a nod to her soldiers, and sent them off. She, however, remained with them as the Seeker moved to stand before Tephra.
"This is your chance to end this," Cassandra said. "Are you ready?"
The weight of the sky bore down on her with every breath.
She wasn't certain anything could have prepared her for this, not even if she had a century to prepare.
"I'm not even sure that I can reach it," she replied, honestly.
"No," the apostate said beside her, insistently. "This rift was the first, and it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach."
Well, at least one of us thinks this will work, she thought, grimly.
"Then let's find a way down," the Seeker said. Even she seemed to be confident, or at least driven, as though she would not even consider courting the idea of failure.
And in an odd way, it helped drive out the fear that had settled in Tephra. She gave a sharp nod, and for once, she was the first to move on down the path. Despite her fatigue, despite the weight of her hand, despite everything, she told herself; This is not the day I die.
And for a moment, she almost believed it.
"Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice."
The voice boomed around them, deep as thunder.
Tephra stumbled in surprise. The voice was familiar, known to her, but she could not place it. It belonged to something lost in the void in her memory.
"What are we hearing?" Cassandra looked about them as the continued down the rubble pathway, clearly unsettled by it.
"At a guess? The person who created the Breach," Solas replied. "The Fade is leaking out here, and with it, the memories of what transpired."
Tephra recovered her balance and picked up speed down an incline as she turned a corner. She was confronted by the sight of something terrible and red and glowing — she came to a skidding halt, and fell back on her ass. She came to a stop just before colliding with it. She'd never seen anything like it. It was some kind of weird crystal formation, vibrant and pulsing with a deep, blood red light. It made her head feel funny just looking at it, it made her feel—
"Get away from it!"
Varric hauled her back by the collar of her coat, putting himself between her and whatever the hell it was that frightened him so. He gave the Seeker a panicked look, as he said, "You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker?"
"I see it, Varric," Cassandra replied, sharply.
Tephra picked herself up from the ground, as Varric continued to press the Seeker, "But what's it doing here?"
Solas mused, "Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple. Corrupted it."
The dwarf made a sound of disgust, "It's evil. Whatever you do, don't touch it. Don't even get near it."
Her head throbbed from a sudden influx of questions that stirred in her mind, which added to the pressure of the Breach bearing down on her, but there was no time for questions. Whatever it was, she believed him. Answers could come later.
Tephra continued on, taking care to cut a wide berth around the jarring red crystals that had erupted from the rubble like poisonous blossoms.
"Keep the sacrifice still."
Again, the thunderous voice echoed through the crater. It was ominous and otherworldly, and she could feel the vibrations from it in her bones.
"Someone, please — help me!"
A different voice. A woman's.
The Seeker came to a halt, just before the ledge down into the heart of the crater. Too many emotions crowded her face as she declared, "That is Divine Justinia's voice!"
Tephra could not stop. The momentum in her body drove her forward. Whether it was from the incline of the platform, or the pull of the Breach dragging her toward it, she could not say. She reached the end of the ledge and leapt.
She landed in a crouch, and rose on unsteady feet. The others landed behind her.
The very air thrummed around her, thick with magic, as she stepped closer to the rift, until it was directly overhead. Verdant magic bloomed in her palm, heavy as the world and all the people in it.
Everything as she knew it and everyone in the world depended on her closing this rift, this tear in the world.
That truth was impossible to process. It was too much.
What if she couldn't do this?
"Someone, help me!"
The woman again. Her pleas echoed around them.
And then, her own.
"What are you doing?"
Tephra's blood ran cold at the sound of her own voice echoing through the crater.
The Seeker looked at her with bewilderment, "That was your voice. Most Holy called out to you, but—"
The rift pulsed suddenly, and engulfed the crater with a blinding wash of light. When it subsided, there before the rift was a towering figure of smoke and shadows, with eyes that burned like embers. A woman in chantry attire was suspended before it — Divine Justinia — arms held out and bound by coils of red magic.
And then, Tephra saw herself — running into the scene, distraught and confused.
"What are you doing?"
The Divine cried out to her, "Run while you can! Warn them!"
The figure turned to face her, and lifted a long arm to point at her, "We have an intruder. Slay the elf."
The rift pulsed again with light, and the vision dissolved.
Tephra's pulse pounded in her ears. She had no memory of this and yet she couldn't deny what she'd seen in those strange, wispy recreations.
"You were there!" Cassandra's accusation came sharply from behind her. The Seeker charged forward, and berated her with a flurry of questions. "Who attacked? And the Divine, is she — was this vision true? What are we seeing?"
"I don't remember," Tephra insisted. How many times would she have to say it before they would finally start believing her?
"Echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place," Solas mused, as he stepped past them and closer to the rift.
Cassandra followed after him quickly, as she struggled to make sense of what they'd just seen.
"This rift is not sealed, but it is closed, albeit temporarily," he said, before turning and locking his gaze on Tephra. "I believe with the mark, the rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side."
"That means demons," the Seeker agreed. "Stand ready!" The Seeker's voice carried across the crater as she shouted the order.
Soldiers moved forward amongst them, drawing their weapons as they steeled themselves for what was to come. Above, archers moved into position with their bows drawn and arrows nocked. And then the Seeker turned back to Tephra; the woman's face was a mix of emotions, but the clearest was determination. Whatever this Seeker believed of her guilt or innocence, she stood ready with her to face whatever may come.
Varric held Bianca at the ready and gave her a reassuring nod, while Solas began to cast barrier magic around them all. She felt it tickle across her senses, like a cool breeze.
All of them stood ready, and waited on her to act.
Tephra turned back to the rift.
The inexorable pull of it called to her. It felt like teetering on the edge of an abyss. Her hand went to her sternum, to where her necklace lay beneath the coat she wore.
If I die today, I will find you in the Beyond.
With a steadying breath, she raised her marked hand to the rift. The magic tore itself from her and shot upwards, locking into the rift. Tephra swayed where she stood, but caught herself before she buckled. She locked her knees and braced herself against it, and pushed.
The rift pulsed and a massive stream of energy shot out of it, striking the ground nearby. There, where it burned in a massive green pillar of fire, a demon unfurled from its depths. Massive and hulking, it took in the sight of the smaller beings and roared.
As the monstrous demon rose to its full height, the Seeker shouted, "Now!"
Archers from every direction loosed upon the demon. Its rage echoed through the crater. And then, as if the one massive demon wasn't enough to deal with, shades began pouring out through the rift.
They swarmed the soldiers, and chaos ensued.
Tephra scrambled away from the melee as the massive demon advanced. Bow in hand, she skirted the combat and moved back toward a safer firing range. Magic from the rift spread through the crater in curtains of blinding green energy. It obscured her view of the others and at times the demon itself, so that she had to keep moving to keep sight of them.
When she moved through to a better vantage point and readied her bow, the apostate was suddenly at her side. He took hold of her arm and hauled her back toward the rift, as he shouted over the clamor, "It draws its strengths and defenses from the Fade! Disrupt the rift!"
She looked at him with bewilderment, "How?!"
"The Fade bends to the will of the mark — bend the mark to your will!" With another shove, he sent her stumbling toward the rift and turned back just in time to divert a charging shade.
Her impulse was to fight, just as everyone else was. But he had been right about everything so far, or near enough to account for some level of faith. And if she could break that massive demon's defenses and make the fight easier for them, then that was clearly what she needed to do.
She raised the mark to the rift, and pushed again. The magic jolted through her, and set fire to the marrow in her bones. The pain was a punch to the gut, but she held her ground against it, clenched her jaw, and shoved.
The rift gave a spasm, and the shock wave washed over the entire crater.
The massive demon fell to its knee, hobbled and stunned. Several of the shades dissipated on contact when the shock wave washed over them.
Cassandra shouted over the commotion, "The demon is vulnerable! Focus all attacks on it, now!"
Volleys of magic and arrows rained down on the demon, and all manners of swords and blunt weapons were driven into and struck against its massive body.
Tephra raised her bow and followed suit, firing arrow after arrow despite the burning ache of her body. Adrenaline pushed her through the pain and fatigue.
The demon's moment of weakness did not last long.
It bellowed its anger as it grabbed hold of the closest soldier by the head. The man's scream did not last long beneath the crush of its massive hand.
Enraged, the Seeker gave an inarticulate cry and drove her sword into the demon's flank at a furious pace.
Tephra stopped firing and turned back to the rift. Again, she let the magic tear through her. Another shock wave brought the demon to its knees.
With her focus turned back to the massive demon Tephra fumbled to ready her bow. The mounting pain building up through her arm from the mark was numbing her ability to grasp and hold, making the task difficult, so she did not see the shade charging toward her. The weight of it pummeled into her from behind, sending her sprawling to the ground. She lost her hold on the bow as she rolled across the rocky ground, trying to push the creature off of her. It reared back to swipe its clawed hands at her, again and again, tearing wildly at her coat. She kept her arms raised, blocking it from tearing at her face.
It shredded fabric and skin alike with utter ease.
A wave of blistering heat passed over her, and she felt the weight of it leave her. And then Varric was crouching beside her, pulling her up by the arm.
"Bad time to take a nap, Snowflake!" The dwarf laughed like a madman, and then he was off again, firing upon the monsters.
She felt slightly singed as she stumbled back towards the rift, and oddly numb. Breathing was difficult, and sense of tightness had closed around her chest. Her breaths came shallow no matter how hard she tried to draw air into her lungs. There was pain, but any pain beyond the mark was diffuse and insignificant.
No matter, she thought.
It was almost over now.
The fighting continued around her as she made her way back towards the rift. Her path there was stumbling and slow, her breath haggard, but all she could focus on was the pull of the Breach.
Almost there. Almost done.
The massive demon was brought down to its hands and knees off to the side, in her peripheral. Bellowing its rage, but nearly defeated.
The Seeker shouted at her, "Now! Seal the rift! Do it!"
One more time.
Tephra raised her hand once more, and felt her entire being split open.
Everything that she was ceased to be in that moment as the mark's power poured through her, and out of her. It took everything with it — her breath, her memory, her pulse, her spirit — as it rushed out of her and clashed against the pull of the Breach. The weight of the Fade crushed down against her, and for one shining, blinding moment, she was not there in the crater, but somewhere else. The world around her suffused, became not one but two that were one together, like an image laid over an image and set alight; the world was not simply the world but more, and the sound of it crashed in against her in a terrible song — a chorus, a cacophony, many and one and all the same — and all of it in the shadow of a shining empire—
The power of the mark hooked like an anchor inside the rift and she knew by instinct to pull, so she did with all the strength left to her.
The rift collapsed in on itself, and the resulting shock wave shot up the funnel of green energy that once connected it to the Breach. The collision sent ripples of magic across the sky in a brief, blinding wash of light.
And all at once, the weight lifted.
Her breath came back to her, however ragged, and all the rest with it.
"You did it, kid!" Varric laughed and hooted, and in his enthusiasm he slapped her back playfully in congratulation.
The sudden movement sent fire through her chest, but her ragged gasp was lost in the uproar. All around her, the soldiers whooped and celebrated.
Her marked hand trembled as the pain swept over her. She balled it into a tight fist, which turned the rigid line of her knuckles white as she held it to her chest with the other hand. The different sources of pain competed for priority, but it was a brief conflict as suddenly, she felt nothing. Her head swam, and there was a strange ragged sound in her ears. Was that the sound of her breathing? Why did it sound like that? A curious sense of calm settled over her, and everything felt distant.
Tephra took a step, and then another, before her knees gave out beneath her.
Strong arms caught hold of her and brought her gently to the ground. Her sight came and went out of focus, but then she saw that it was Varric who held her. He was knelt beside her, holding her up in his arms against his chest.
"Get the healers!" His shout boomed thunderously in his chest against her ear. "Something's wrong, she's — she's hurt! Do something!" Quieter, to her, he entreated, "Come on, Snowflake. This ain't the place to call it quits."
What a stupid nickname, she thought to herself.
It occurred to her that it would be a shame to die just now and not tell him. It was only a name, after all, and he had been kind to her.
"Tephra," she said, though her voice was lost in the clamor of the shouting soldiers.
The dwarf leaned his face down close to hers, "What was that?"
Everything was slipping away around them, as darkness encroached further and further on the edges of her vision.
"Tephra," she repeated. "That's my name."
And then unconsciousness claimed her once more.
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Author's Notes: I have a difficult time writing short chapters. I will try (and probably fail) to keep them from running on too long in the future.