Salem

I breathed a sigh of relief as the last portion of the bridge snapped into reality with a resounding crack.

Damn magic and its myriad intricacies.

With the help of Burrow and two large stones, I had managed to activate the bridge across the chasm my mabari had saved me from falling into. The smell of blood, my blood, was thick in the air. I forced myself to my feet and Burrow stepped under my hand, supporting me.

I limped forward, across the bridge, thanking Burrow for getting me there, for having saved me from myself, from the chasm...from everything.

Although I wish it were Le...no matter. Those thoughts have no place here. I must be close. Dear Maker, let me be close. So...lightheaded.

I reached the end of the bridge and felt the walls close in on me before opening back into another expansive room. I heard the sound of fire crackling, but smelled no smoke. Heat from the flames washed over me, searing. I lifted my hand to cover my eyes. They were damaged enough; I could not risk scalding them.

"Salem Cousland," the voice of the Guardian rang through my ears. "You have passed the trials of the Gauntlet."

I offered him a weak laugh. I had triumphed thus far, in a very bleak victory.

"I am not yet dead." I smiled.

The Guardian hummed low in his throat, almost a tone of disapproval. "Many have made it thus far." he told me. "Some hale and hearty, many clinging to life. Now you must face purification, warden. The Ashes lie beyond. If you falter in your resolve, as many before you have, well. Your wound is deep."

Purification? Maker's blood-soaked breath. Am I to be judged by Andraste herself, the Maker's Bride? By all accounts, she was the purest heart to walk in all of Thedas; the woman for whom the Maker extricated himself from his abandonment of our world. I am...not fit to stand in her presence.

"Very well then." I muttered, hearing the Guardian walk away. His business with me was concluded.

Your wound is deep, I mocked his last words. I have stared eternity in the face as my heart stopped beating. I will face these flames, Guardian, and I will return to a life, that, even if it is not worth living, is worth at least survival.

"Purity." I whispered, trying to remember what it had been.

To have hands unsundered by violence, unstained by blood. This was purity. To have a heart that sought only to save, that reached out to the decency in others. This was purity. To have a soul that balked at violence, that restrained itself in all circumstances, that fought to preserve life. This was purity.

All that I had been, once. Until my destiny and blood had been tainted. Then blood soaked my hands and my heart was torn open again and again and again...by friends...by enemies...by love. I remained uncertain about the status of my soul. Perhaps Leliana had not taken that with her, unlike my heart. Perhaps that is why I still drew breath in this world.

Purity. I must face this trial as I first faced the world. Unarmed. Uncovered.

Slow, with frigid fingers, I peeled off my clothes, shivering in the wash of heat and cold that assailed me from opposite sides. Burrow whimpered and nudged his cold nose against the deep gash in my thigh. His worry was palpable, but I could do nothing to remedy the situation.

I began to walk towards what I knew was a solid wall of flame. There was no way around, no gateway through. There was only forward, and thus I went. Burrow flew to my side and I scratched his head behind his missing ear.

"Not this time, boy." I told him.

A low, mournful howl echoed around the room. He turned away from me and stood stalwart over my clothes and weapons. I prayed I would return to him. I feared I would not.

The flames licked around my skin and caught my blood, racing through my body. I screamed as agony washed through me. Streaks of color flashed before my eyes.

No. I locked my jaw against the pain. Not this time; not here. I will not lose consciousness!

"...warden...warden...warden..." the flames roared inside my mind, splitting my ears, "...we whisper to you...we whisper...gentle."

I curled into a ball on the ground amid the flames, holding my ears.

This is a whisper!? Maker's breath, how much power remains here!?

"...we hear...we hear the cries...your innermost soul is fractured...your hands have shed blood...innocent...innocent blood...you stray...from Light...unworthy...we deem you...unworthy."

I screamed and thrashed as the flames began their work in earnest. To remove impurity from the world. That was their purpose. They had judged me unworthy.

This is not how it ends. I swore, deafening myself with my own cries. This is not how it ends! Calm, Salem. Calm. If they can speak...they must also...understand.

"Deny me not." I begged, pleading for my life and for the world. The two were intertwined.

More thoughts, my final thoughts, spun through my mind as I closed my blinded eyes against the unending agony.

Forgive me, Leliana. I wanted to save this world...for you. Your voice. Your heart. Your music. I want it to ring through the centuries. If ever, at any time since I became a warden, I possessed a shard of purity...it was my love for you. Nothing can sunder that. Nothing can take that from me.

"...wait..." the flames spoke again, and I felt my ears begin to bleed. "...consideration...purpose...purity of intent and spirit...heart with another...another who has departed...warden...abandoned...still loving...still pure...consideration...blessing given...pass through."

Time ceased. Pain ceased. Slow, I lifted my body from the stones and heard Burrow bark, pure joy.

I am not dead, I realized. The flames, the final trials, saw the purity of my love; they saw that it superseded all deeds I have commited. Thank you, Leliana. You may no longer be with me, but you will always be part of me. The part that warrants redemption. There is no greater gift to leave behind than that. Thank you, dear heart. Thank you.

I got to my feet and limped forward, feeling fresh blood sluice down my leg as I moved. There were stairs. I dropped to my knees and crawled upwards, feeling the ground spin beneath me.

Not much farther, I forced myself to keep moving.

I reached out, grazing my hand against the cold stone of the altar. I used it to pull myself once more to my feet. I reached out, feeling the body of an urn. I opened it, smelling frankincense, myrrh, all other scents used to mask the stench of death.

I cannot believe it exists. I thought, letting wonder and awe wash through me. All this pain, all this heartache...Leliana leaving me...it meant something. It had to have. I must believe that to go on.

I reached into the Urn, smearing my fingers with the Ashes. Let this be truth, I prayed, touching the ash to the wound in my thigh. I caught my breath as pain washed through me in a faint, echoing wave. I could feel torn edge of muscles merge and meld, nerves fissure themselves into connection, skin knit itself back together.

I ran my fingers along the edge of the wound...what had been a gaping tear was now a faint, even scar.

Thank you, Andraste. I looked up, feeling tears of hope in my eyes. This world may have forced its burdens on me, but you took them upon yourself. I suppose, in the end, that is what separates a true savior from a simple champion. I know my place now, my true mission. Hear my prayer, Andraste. Do not let the Maker keep his silence. This world is worth preserving.

I scooped up a handful of the Ashes. Enough for Morrigan, Arl Eamon, and my eyes. The rest...the world needed hope in these dreadful times. No longer would the resting place of the Maker's Bride be kept secret. Thedas needed this...needed the last grace of their Maker.

I hurried back to Burrow and my clothing, shivering in the chill of the air. I opened a pouch on my belt and deposited the Ashes, then dressed and slung my swords on my back. Burrow nudged me, questioning.

"Morrigan first." I answered the question he could not ask. "I have been blind for some time now. Sight can wait."