The cool, crisp mountain air did little to allay the anxiety that ran rampant in Clarissa's veins. Indeed, her hand never left her sword ever since their arduous hike back to the surface. The seals, the Darkspawn, they were dealt with easily enough. No ghastly apparition of ageless demons could best her blade; Darkspawn fell by the dozen to Bethany's unending assault of ice and fire. The way events passed as they journeyed deeper into the Dwarven prison seemed almost... uneventful; The seals themselves were mostly unguarded, and what meager numbers of Darkspawn that dared confront them were promptly obliterated with little to no effort.
But, as she climbed the endless spiral of stairs that led to the surface, a chill accompanied her. It took root in the back of her mind, spreading down her spine until on some nights, when she kept watch alone, it would consume her in a combined assault of foreboding feelings and chilling wind.
But then, Bethany would wake, roused by the bond between them. She would envelop Clarissa in a warm embrace, wrapping her arms around her neck and calming her with the soothing touch of her voice.
Nevertheless, the chill never left her, like an omen of things to come.
Clarissa shook herself to clear her head as the uneven rock beneath her boots gave way to paved, polished cobblestone. Empty air, painted with a backdrop of deserted blue mountains flanked the lonely walkway, extending on its own to a circular arena that constituted the top of the prison. Tall stone arches stood proudly, if not forlornly, around the arena, supporting a semi-circular dome that cast a yellow light onto the ground it covered. At its center, a brilliant beam of light lanced its way from the bowels of the earth into the vertex of the dome.
The seals had been broken, one by one, by Clarissa. She had cut down every single one of the demonic guardians that guarded the seals. She had held her sword, her golden, enchanted sword, to the binding mechanisms that resided on each level of the prison. By unseen force, it had buried itself to the hilt into the ground, every single time. By way of crackling lightning, it had electrified the very air, every single time, as Clarissa felt the ground shift ever so slightly. The last seal, however, had been different. A beam of light had engulfed the embedded sword, startling her with its blinding intensity as it reached for the heavens.
There was a great sigh, echoing in the stone itself, as if in release. As she looked upon the pillar of shimmering light, a sudden thought, outmatching all other thought, hit her.
Up.
And now, here she was, able to face her foe, this Corypheus, after all this time. With a slight jerk of her head, partly out of nervousness, she motioned for her companions to traverse the walkway.
Clarissa heard Bianca click as a bolt was slid into place.
The sound of unsheathing daggers met her overly sensitive ears.
Her left flank flared with heat, and her right arm suddenly tingled with a sudden drop in temperature.
She advanced. Slowly. Cautiously.
Let's hope there are no more tricks this time.
Don't worry, sister. The sound of Bethany's voice, although brief, helped still Clarissa's racing heart. Chancing a peek downwards, she expected to see solid rock under the walkway.
There was none.
The stone on which they trod was suspended upon... nothing?
"Now I've seen everything." Varric grumbled nonchalantly, following Clarissa's eyes with his own. "Maker be damned, I'm a captain, not a lookout!" Isabela hissed as she averted her eyes.
"Don't worry, I'll catch you." Bethany said, then chuckled softly as Isabela made a face.
They made it across half of the walkway. To Clarissa, the arena couldn't be more farther. As she moved closer, she began to see more details.
Four perches sat at compass points on the arena. Four statues, facing the center of the arena, stood guard, fearless and motionless. It was quite hard to make out, but Clarissa thought she saw wings, like the wings of angels, on the statues' backs. Her sword hummed as they neared the entrance, as if in anticipation.
"Okay..." Murmured Isabela when all four of them finished crossing the walkway and into the bounds of the arena. "I think something's supposed to happen."
Blinking, Clarissa turned towards her. "Like what?"
Isabela shrugged, a sheepish grin colouring her face. "I'm just a captain, Hawke. Burn and pillage and all that, I can manage. Creepy ruins in even creepier mountains involving magic and puzzles? Not so much." She added in a mock Yar! Clarissa felt a smile tug at her lips despite their current situation.
"Wait." Varric's gruff voice came from some ways away, drawing their attention. "Those statues around us," he said, taking each one under his intent gaze as he shrank inward thoughtfully. "Their hands are held together."
"So?"
"Well, you usually do that when you are trying to hold something, yes?" Varric rolled his eyes. Clarissa would've thought the four of them would be that much more serious, given the potentially deadly quagmire in front of them. But no... Nothing can dampen the spirits of Clarissa Hawke and her merry band of misfits.
"If what I'm conjuring up in my head is anything remotely close to the truth, I'd say your flashy sword fits in their grip." Varric observed, raising his eyebrows when he caught the appraising stares his companions favoured him with. "What? Maker's breath, I'm a dwarf. We have an in-born affinity with treasure, statues and evil, evil Darkspawn."
Clarissa sighed heavily. "Well, no harm in trying." She strode towards the northern statue. Upon closer inspection, it was clear to her that, despite its humanoid appearance, the decidedly female figure rendered in stone was anything but. Its upturned features were too smooth, too sublime, too... perfect. A pang of strange recognition resonated through her as she approached the female angel, the moving background making it as though she was in flight, not encased in stone, standing guard over a sleepless malice.
The chill returned, stronger than ever. Clarissa pushed it to a desolate corner of her mind.
"You'd think the Grey Wardens would set some of their own to keep tabs on this place." Varric said, scrutinizing the ancient, yet undoubtedly elegant statuette as Clarissa unsheathed her sword. The woman clad in stone, amethyst eyes turned skyward in all regality, seemingly remained oblivious to its golden sheen. As Clarissa cautiously approached the statuette's side, however, she thought she saw the amethyst orbs focus on her.
She froze. "Bethany?"
"Yes, sister?"
"Indulge me as to the possibility of this fine woman here," she gestured towards the statuette, "being able to wield magic?" She'd seen strange things in the deep, dark reaches of the dungeon behind her. A living statuette just waiting for her to relinquish her only weapon to it was principally what she dealt with on a daily basis.
Bethany furrowed her brow for a few moments. "I don't sense anything, but don't take my word for it." She eyed the statuette suspiciously, edging closer to Clarissa's side. "It could be nothing, or it could be that she's one skilled liar."
A thin veil of light came from the eastern horizon, poking at the ridges of the faraway peaks. Maker be damned, we don't have time.
Under the statuette's cryptic gaze, Clarissa strode forward and, with slow, precise movements, lowered the hilt of the sword into the statuette's expectant grip.
Two things happened.
A blast of magic threw Clarissa backwards. Clarissa felt the alien touch of Mana singe her veins as she braced a hard landing on the stone floor. The impact knocked the wind out of her, but she held her head up, just to witness the spectacular scene unfolding before her.
The sword's golden light seemed to take on an infectious tinge, spreading itself from the tips of the statuette's fingers to the ends of her marble-locked hair in a matter of seconds, rippling through the stone and making the amethyst orbs look ever so alive. The sword itself remained unchanged, and as Clarissa looked upon the perfect fashion with which it rested in the statuette's grip, it hit her that the sword belonged there.
Then, the statuette crumbled on itself, cracks forming at a breakneck pace, each individual shard of the proud guardian reducing themselves to ever smaller fragments until all that remained of the statuette was a cloud of fine, shimmering mist, hovering in the air. A breathy exhale reverberated in the confines of the arena, and the mist moved, as if propelled by a sigh of relief, towards the center, where an ancient but intact altar housed a spear of luminance, aiming straight to the heavens.
Almost immediately, Clarissa felt a shift around her, a change in the very fabric of the world and... within her. She wasn't sure as to what it entailed, but she was certain that it wasn't just her who had felt it.
"Am I... drunk?" Clarissa heard Isabela's less-than-steady voice echo from a thousand leagues away. "My head's buzzing, and in all the right places too." A less-than-mortally afflicted Bethany tended to the Pirate Queen's woozy temperament as Varric grunted and trudged beside Clarissa.
"What in Andraste's flaming knickers was that?" The stout dwarf exclaimed breathlessly, his usual rock-steady composure completely discarded.
Casting her eyes towards the now-empty overlook, Clarissa allowed herself a sigh of relief. "Whatever it was, it worked." She said simply.
A shimmering cross of golden light floated in mid-air, barely moving except for the most miniscule of vibrations. The angelic guardian was nowhere to be found.
One down, three to go.
The next attempts were made with caution, as all four of them did not wish for another set of bruises to add to the many sores they already possessed. To Isabela and Varric's relief, Bethany's magic proved to be sufficient, creating a ward to guarded against physical influence on their bodies. The iridescent waves of arcane energy passed through them without so much as a nudge.
The same thing, however, could not be said for Clarissa.
Each time her hand lowered her golden blade into the alcove, a twinge of electricity surged through her. It took all of her restraint to not prance backwards as the shock, both ice-cold and white-hot, stabbed like an icy dagger into her very soul. As it did, she felt something change within her, something once dormant that came to life at the stone's touch. It chilled her, and yet made her so alive.
As the last of the angels faded to dust, Clarissa felt it.
A slumbering giant, bound before the dawn of time.
A sleepless malice, caged against his will.
A Tainted creature, neither human nor Darkspawn, but rather something far more than those, something that has fallen so low, even Death itself would not, could not, claim him.
Clarissa's grip on her sword tightened. The ground beneath her rumbled, as if sharing in her anxiety. She felt a familiar figure step up beside her. Her bracer hand left her sword, reached down, and took Bethany's hand in hers. She felt the end of Bethany's staff, their father's legacy, brush against her back. Magic surged through their intertwined fingers, running through Clarissa's veins and uniting heart, mind, and soul. She held Bethany all the tighter. They can make it through this. They've faced worse nightmares than this.
Together.
The grinding of dust against leather heels caught on her right flank, and she glimpsed determined hazel eyes through the sheen of her sword. Scythe-like daggers danced their way around skilled, tapered fingers, mirroring the lance of light that shuddered and moved ever upwards, drawing silver circles in the air. The telltale metallic melody of a crossbow bolt, honed to lethal sting, reached Clarissa's ears from behind her. An unmistakable, yet slightly melancholic, chuckle came next.
It used to be you, me, and Carver. Clarissa heard Bethany's thoughts as clearly as her own, the connection between them too strong for words to deliver.
"Yes. But this time, where we failed,"Clarissa said, with word and thought, as the beam of light at her fore dimmed. But even as it lost its luminance, a kindred light began to blossom in Clarissa's eyes, fueled by gilded fire.
"We shall succeed."
/The leading up to a certain climax in a certain story is always fun to write. I hope it is fun for you to read, as well. Oh, and um... Cliffhanger FTW.
OnePageMemory: Thank you! I'm glad that my paltry rambling can draw you into our little universe!
Spike: Got it yet? :D
Laureola: Thank you for your honesty! I'll have more coming along!
Koona: Once again, thank you for your continued support. Contrary to what lackluster computerized things and stuff and words might have you believe, I REALLY appreciate being appreciated. I wish I can say I 3 you but that'd be taking it a tad too far. Wait... *facepalm*
And, to all of you out there: Join me. Join Clarissa and Bethany as they face what may be their most challenging foe yet, as they face trials that may cost them not only their lives, but also each other.
Oh, and um... R&R! Keep reading! All that good stuff!/