The Inquisitor's Ghost

by nothelping

She met him in the dungeons of the White Spire. She was the only one who could see him, remember him. Five years later, and Cole was back in her life, appearing out of thin air, just like the ghostly apparition he was, tempting her with something she could never have. Because every mage knew: Never take a demon into your soul. You'll change yourself forever.

8. Chapter 8 - In Your Heart Shall Burn

The Inquisitor's Ghost

Part III - The Herald of Andraste

Chapter 8 – In Your Heart Shall Burn

Though all before me is shadow

Yet shall the Maker be my guide

I shall not be left to wander

The drifting roads of the Beyond

For there is no darkness in the Maker's light

And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost

- Trials 1:14

9:41 Dragon

Haven

The Herald of Andraste laid on her back on the roof of the Chantry in Haven, hands behind her head, staring up at the endless expanse of stars that dotted the night sky. The bleak winter moon glistened off the pristine powder that covered the township of Haven. Moonlight skimmed the high edges of the snow-covered trees, brightening the sea of snow with its silvery light.

In the distance a coyote howled, the sound drifting to her on the winter breeze that smelled of ice. Her breath condensed in front of her face, snowflakes falling upon her, sticking to her eyelashes and reddening her cheeks. Long russet curls fanned around her head, still wet after having just bathed in the icy river that was nearby that cut through the Frostback Mountains. Others would be freezing, but the cold had never bothered her. She believed that exposure to the elements made you strong, made you able to withstand them when you needed to, when your life depended on it.

The twenty-three year old woman wore the uncomfortable, skin-tight beige outfit the Inquisition had given her along with her tan winter boots that were lined with fur. Her newly acquired obsidian armor was drying a few feet away after having been cleaned as well.

It was quiet up on the roof of the Chantry, peaceful even. The music and laughter from the celebration below was greatly muffled, leaving only the softly filtered sounds of nature to be heard amidst the sounds of merriment from below. The smell of wood burning and meat roasting drifted up to greet her along with the sound of logs popping in the heat of a fire.

Maker, she was utterly exhausted. She hadn't slept or eaten in thirty-six hours. But that was what life was like as the Herald of Andraste, which she felt was akin to treading water – continual motion without getting anywhere with the persistent threat of drowning looming threateningly over her head.

The Herald lifted her left hand in front of her face, studying the mark that was on her palm. Sometimes, like now, it was just a slanted green line cutting across her palm, almost like a green tattoo. But other times it glowed, bright emerald green, unknown power pulsing from it and shooting currents of pure energy through her system.

"Escaping already?" Cullen chuckled as he approached her on the roof.

The Herald sat up as she looked at him. "I'm not really one for parties," she replied, her breath billowing puffs of white mist in front of her face.

"Yeah. Me either," he replied as he slowly made his way across the roof toward her, sitting down beside her. The side of his body pressed against hers and she couldn't help but feel nervous and awkward with his closeness.

Ever since her conversation with Leliana the night before the conclave, Ember had decided to move on with her life and give Cullen a chance. They'd been shamelessly flirting for months now. They ate their meals together and spent the little amount of free time they had together. She liked Cullen. He was a nice man, if not a little obsessed with his work, and very handsome. Whenever he accompanied her on a trip to Val Royeaux, women swooned at the sight of him. She was very much aware of how much more attractive he was than her and it made her feel a little insecure and self-conscious.

The Herald looked at Cullen out of the corner of her, her eyes running over him, and she knew why she was attracted to him. He was tall and lean with blonde hair. But he wasn't tall enough or lean enough. His hair was too light a shade of blonde and cut too short. It wasn't thick enough, messy enough, and it didn't fall into his eyes. And his eyes… they were too small, too dark a color, the lashes not long enough or thick enough or sooty enough. His skin was too tan, his armor too heavy. He just wasn't-

"Solas confirms the heavens are scarred but calm," Cullen said, his voice breaking through her thoughts. "The Breach is sealed. We've reports of lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this was a victory. Word of your heroism has spread." His eyes met hers. "What you did… it was amazing." He gave her a charming smile. "The things you've done… how do you do it?"

The Herald snorted. "Oh, you know, I put on my ugly, beige, big-girl pants one leg at a time."

Cullen laughed, the sound rich and warm. "You really hate that outfit, don't you?"

"Yes," Ember grumbled, fidgeting with the dreadful material. "It's too itchy and tight. And I hate beige."

Cullen's eyes met and held hers in the moonlight. "I think I could help you out of it," he suggested, his voice as sweet and rich as honey.

The Herald ducked her head to hide her blushing cheeks from him.

Seeing her blush, Cullen's eyes widened as he thought back on his wording and he began to stammer in mortification, "I-I… I meant into another outfit, of course. Not out of the one you are in. Well, maybe one day… I mean… wait, that's not what I meant… what I meant to say was… oh Maker, I'll just stop talking now."

They both returned to staring up at the stars, each embarrassed and blushing a furious shade of red. An owl hooted high above their heads as it took off from the branch it was perched on, the rustling of leaves echoing through the silence. They sat there in the moonlight, silent as the grave, for what seemed like an eternity.

"Ember…" Cullen's low voice broke the silence.

"Yes?" she asked as she turned to face him and was surprised to find him staring at her, his eyes a shade darker and his face set with resolve.

"I… I just…" He murmured. "…I just wanted to tell you that I… that I…"

The Herald opened her mouth to speak when his mouth came down and smothered her words. Her eyes were wide open, her body so rigid and stiff her muscles ached. She couldn't blink. She couldn't think. She couldn't respond to the lips that were currently gliding so expertly over her own, the stubble on his jaw scratching her skin. This was her fourth kiss and it was just as awkward as the two before it.

Before she could break the kiss, her heart sank to the pit of her stomach as the light of the moon was suddenly blocked by something in the sky, casting the entire rooftop in complete darkness. A wave of unspeakable dread rushed over her as she caught the glint of onyx metallic scales in the night sky.

Realization dawned on her and it sent a chill down her spine that rippled throughout her entire body, her chest rising and falling quickly with her mounting fear.

With a wrenched cry, the Herald tore her mouth away from Cullen's and cried, "Dragon!"

"WHAT?!" Cullen exclaimed, his eyes jerking up to frantically search the sky before his mouth fell open in shock.

They balked as they watched a massive, scaly, black-skinned torso circle the Inquisition stronghold. The dragon roared as it spread its wings wide and floated over the heads of the Inquisition agents, mages of the mage rebellion, refugees, and Haven citizens celebrating in the courtyard in front of the Chantry. The bard's fingers fell dissonantly from the strings of her lute and an ominous silence fell upon the crowd as everyone looked toward the night sky.

And then all hell broke loose.

Everyone was screaming and scrambling, alarms were ringing, the mages' hands beginning to crackle with magic. Thankfully, the dragon flew away, heading for the mountain.

"Forces are approaching!" Cassandra yelled up at them. "To arms!"

They were on their feet in an instant. "We must get to the gates!" Cullen told her.

"So, celebratory drinks are on hold?" she quipped as she began donning her still wet armor while Cullen shouted commands down to the Inquisition soldiers below.

"Time for some thrilling heroics," the Herald sighed as she slid down the ladder, Cullen behind her, and together they rushed to the gates.

As she ran through the camp, she could hear the sound of swords crashing against swords over the walls. As the clang of sword against sword grew louder in her ears, she began hearing screams of death carried on the howling wind alongside flurries of snow. Adrenaline began coursing through her as she drew closer to the gates and the sounds of the battle grew louder. She could smell the metallic scent of blood, the tang of hot metal, and the acrid sweat of fear. As they approached the gates, she saw Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine waiting for them.

"Cassandra?" Cullen asked immediately as they skidded to a stop.

"It's an army!" Cassandra exclaimed as she pointed to the mountain. "One watch guard reporting it's a massive force, the bulk over the mountain."

"Under what banner?" Josephine asked.

"None."

"None?!"

"Where are the rest?" The Herald asked, searching for the others.

"Fighting," Leliana replied. "They're keeping whoever it is that's attacking from getting in."

"Was that a dragon?" Cullen asked, astounded. "I could have sworn it looked more like an-"

"Archdemon," Leliana supplied. "Yes, I thought so too."

"Whatever it is, it's cut a path for that army," Cassandra replied.

There was a loud banging on the front gate and the Herald jumped, startled by the loud sound right beside her.

"I can't come in unless you open!" a man yelled urgently through the door.

"Someone's out there! They need help!" she cried as she ran forward to open the gate.

"Herald, wait! It could be a trap!" Cullen yelled after her, but she'd already opened the gate.

She ran forward and came to a skidding halt in the snow as she watched an enemy's words turn into a gurgle of blood in his mouth as the tip of a blade exploded from the enemy's chestplate, right over his heart. The enemy toppled forward face-first to the snow, revealing the man's killer - a young human man in rough leathers with skin as pale as the moon, shaggy blonde hair hanging over his eyes, and fresh blood sprayed across the sharply carved angles of his face.

Her body automatically moved into a defensive stance as the young man approached her, crouched low and cautious, his body moving with the lithe type of grace found in the most dangerous predators. The fires from the nearby burning buildings blazed around him, casting their dancing shadows upon him, illuminating him in a soft glow. He was dangerous, she knew, for he held a wicked-looking dagger at the ready that was covered in blood and dozens of dead bodies surrounded him, his victims she assumed, and the air was heavy with the metallic scent of blood.

Her eyes traveled over him with keen interest. There was something about him that seemed oddly familiar, like he was someone she should know. Someone important. While she searched her memory for recognition, the young man's chin slowly lift and his eyes opened into hers.

Haunted, haunted eyes.

His name is Cole.

For a moment, it was as if time stood still. Her surroundings, the Inquisition, the sounds of the battle and her advisors' chatter coming from the gates, just fell away in that moment. Her chest constricted as she fell head first into those deep blue pools of liquid azurite glittering in the firelight. Moving, breathing, thinking - impossible. She tried to drag in a breath, struggling for air while her heart was a staccato beat against her ribcage.

"Cole?" She hadn't realized she'd spoken until she heard the sound of her own voice saying his name in a low, breathy whisper.

"You… you remember me," he murmured quietly, his relief palpable, his gaze so soft on her face it made her heart stand still.

Remember the kiss.

It all came back to her in a rush, her thoughts spinning backward in time to five years ago.

Cole closed the last remaining distance between them and the knot in her stomach swelled, pressing on her lungs. Her voice abandoned her. She fumbled for words that did not come. It was not possible, not with the way he was looking at her. Cole was staring at her - into her – his gaze reaching into her own and pulling out her very soul.

Her lips parted on a silent gasp as he leaned into her, sucking up all the air she was already having trouble grasping. "I knew you wouldn't forget," he breathed, a puff of white mist forming in front of his mouth that fell onto her own before she breathed it in, too many emotions in his voice and face to define his expression or thoughts.

"Get away from her!" Cullen barked as he appeared beside her, his sword thrust forward toward Cole.

Cole scrambled back from her, his eyes not leaving the sword in Cullen's hand that was pointed threateningly at him.

"Stop!" She cried without thinking, and lunged toward Cullen, grabbing his sword.

"Get back, Herald. This creature is not what you think."

"I am me," Cole answered simply, eyes inscrutable. "My name is Cole."

Cole is a demon.

The memories struck her then like a blow to her vitals. The memories of the last time she'd seen Cole - of him slaughtering that innocent mage girl - washed over her like waves of broken glass, each one stinging and leaving behind a laceration. An old wound long buried was suddenly ripped open inside of her. The hurt was still raw and fresh even after all these years, an unhealed wound festering inside her.

Her expression slowly darkened and twisted, transforming into a withering glare as she turned it upon Cole, and asked tartly, "What the hell are you doing here?"

Anguish shadowed his face, and those absurdly long lashes lowered over his eyes. "I know you don't want me here," Cole uttered in a small voice. "But I had to come. I had to warn you. To help," he explained urgently. "People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know."

Her brow became creased with deep lines, her mouth pulling tight. "What is this? What's going on?"

Cole moved closer to her. "The templars come to kill you." Her heart gave a fierce jolt at his low, husky murmur.

"Templars?" Cullen questioned, looking at her. "Is this the Order's response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?"

"These templars are different," Cole answered ominously. "They are red inside."

Cullen's gaze snapped to Cole. "What the hell does that mean?"

"The red templars went to the Elder One," Cole replied before turning to her. "You know him. He knows you. You took his mages." Cole's expression turned grim. "He's very angry that you took his mages."

A red templar rogue appeared out of a puff of smoke behind her, daggers raised. With a flick of his wrist, Cole sent a small dagger whizzing through the air before it flew straight through the side of the red templar's helmet, impaling itself in his temple. It completely tore into his skull, blood running out of his blood red eyes, killing him instantly. His body hit the ground behind her with a dull thud.

"We need to get inside the gates, it's not safe out here in the open!" Cullen yelled and the three of them ran inside, the gates closing behind them with a loud creak.

The Herald turned on the ex-templar. "Cullen, give me a plan. Anything!"

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. "Haven is no fortress. Our positioning is not good. They'll kill everyone in Haven."

"The Elder One doesn't care about the village," Cole cut in. Ice blue orbs flickered to lock on hers, brutal in their intensity. "He only wants her."

She averted her gaze to stare up at the mountain while a freezing wind blew from the north, a gust of flurry and ice. "If it will save these people, he can have me."

"He can't have you," she heard Cole murmur in a deadly whisper, his voice taut. "Besides, it won't help. He wants to kill you. No one else matters, but he'll crush them. He'll kill them anyway." Cole shuddered. "I don't like him."

Cullen was staring at Cole as if he'd grown two heads. "You don't like…?" Cullen exhaled sharply in exasperation, as if the sentence wasn't worth finishing, then turned to face her. "Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that could slow them down would be to turn the remaining trebuchets."

"But we're overrun," she countered. "To hit the enemy, we'd bury Haven."

Cullen's expression turned solemn. "We're dying, but we can decide how. Many don't get that choice."

Silence engulfed them then, a silence filled with ominous tension. Cole was looking at the Chantry doors where Chancellor Roderick was leaning heavily on Dorian's shoulder, his hand pressed against his stomach that appeared soaked with blood. "Chancellor Roderick knows a path. You wouldn't know it unless you made the summer pilgrimage as he has," Cole stated before looking at Cullen. "He is in the Chantry now. Dying. But he can show you the way. The people can escape."

"What about it, Cullen?" she asked.

Cullen stared at her, aghast. "You're not honestly suggesting we listen to it?"

She frowned. "Just answer me. Could it work?"

Cullen rubbed his chin as he thought. "Possibly. If what it says is true and Chancellor Roderick shows us the path."

She nodded. "Good. I want you leading the way with Chancellor Roderick."

"What about it?" Cullen asked with a nod of his head toward Cole.

They both turned to the young man, but found nothing but air.

"Hold on… where did it go?" Cullen asked. His eyes shifted to her. "Are you all right, Herald?" he asked with concern. "You're trembling like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine," she replied sharper than she meant to. She softened her voice. "We're running out of time, Cullen. You need to get these people out of here."

Cullen's eyes left hers for a second before returning. "Which companions do you want to take with you?"

"None."

"None?"

"I will not ask the others to die."

"But… what of you? What of your escape?"

She looked away from him, not wanting him to see the truth she knew showed upon her face.

There is no escape for me.

The thought left a desolate coldness lingering in her bones. She could feel the weight of hundreds of innocent lives weighing on her shoulders, crushing her under its weight. Something inside her sobbed at the injustice of it all. She really did have the worst sort of luck.

But then a strange sensation overcame her. It was calming. It was warm. It comforted her in a peculiar way. Her death may be imminent, but it would not be in vain. Courage coursed through her then, soon accompanied by strength. She would not stand by and watch her new friends, the Inquisition, the mages, the refugees, and the innocent people of Haven suffer and die merely because she was too scared to protect them, too scared to face death. She had to at least try.

I'm going to die.

The Herald took a deep breath and let that irrefutable fact settle in her chest, accepting it. It slid down slowly like a piece of ice into her stomach where it melted and chilled her from the inside out, encasing her in ice, protecting her. She would not be a coward. By the Maker, her death would not be in vain!

"I'm meant for this." Determined, she lifted her head to meet Cullen's gaze, her aquamarine eyes flashing with power. "I'm not afraid."

Cullen stared at her, wavering somewhere between outrage, disbelief, and admiration. The Herald of Andraste was looking at him with quiet resolve, surprisingly calm for the card fate had dealt her. There was no fear in her blue-green eyes, not even a flicker of it. Grown men quivered in fear while staring into the face of death, but this young woman did nothing of the sort. Fear just seemed to piss her off more.

"Perhaps… you will surprise it and find a way," Cullen offered with hope ringing in his voice.

The Herald forced a smile. "You know me. I'm just full of surprises."

Cullen stepped toward her, hand outstretched as if he meant to touch her. "Ember…"

"Are the trebuchets loaded?" she asked, cutting him off as she stepped away from him.

Cullen's hand fell limply to his side. "Yes."

"Good. I'll keep the Elder One's attention until you're above the tree line. Once you're clear, give me the signal. And then I'll hit that force with everything I can."

Cullen nodded somberly. "If we are to have a chance, if you are to have a chance, let that thing hear you."

Without another word, the Herald of Andraste spun and marched out the gates, letting them close behind her with a heavy note of finality.

The sight that greeted her was frightening. A wave of red templars were charging straight for her.

She was only one.

The Herald stood tall in her obsidian armor in front of the gates, her feet ice cold in the snow. It was quiet now, the stillness of the silence as unsettling as it was calming, the people either dead or taking sanctuary in the Chantry. The snow was cold and smelled of winter as it fell unremittingly from the endless blackness above. The wind howled wildly causing the trees to rustle violently and snow to rise from the ground, forming small whirlwinds that danced along the open expanse of whiteness that covered the ground in front of her.

She took a deep breath and inhaled the crisp winter air. She was alone. There was no one to see her for what she was – a mage - and condemn her for it, or imprison her. Here, now, in her final hour she could unleash upon them everything she had, hold nothing back. She could be free. Herself. Allow the gift she was born with, the gift the Maker gave her, out of its cage for the first time in five years and show these red templars just what a mage could really do.

She reached her mind across the Veil and fire curled around her fists, the air crackling with magic. Power licked her spine, tingling in its wake. A thrill zipped through her system, sparking parts of her to life she'd long thought dead. She smiled up at the stars, snowflakes falling from a black sky to land lightly upon her cheeks and out stuck tongue. Instantly she felt better, happier, than she had in years. The freedom to be oneself was the greatest feeling in all the world. If she was to die, she would die who she was and she would take these red templars with her, one last bow before the curtain fell.

The red templars were closer now, their weapons raised high, some already coated with the blood of innocents and mages. Ember's chin tucked, her eyebrows slashing low over her greenish blue eyes as dark crimson curls framed her heart-shaped face. The corners of her mouth slowly pulled into a wicked smirk. "Time to get loud."

Her hands slowly lifted in front of her body, fire crackling around them. Manipulated flames licked from the air by her hands, splitting madly and racing through the air to greet the approaching enemy. With a shout she threw her hands forward and deadly fire rained down on the red templars - men burned, screaming horribly, while flames bit and burned at their armor and skin.

A few red templars got through. She pulled her daggers from their hilts and spun them once in her hands as she had come accustomed to doing before a fight, but this time she summoned flames to coat the steel. With sleek litheness, Ember rushed forward to meet them, her blades on fire.

"Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame…"

With a flick of her wrists, she sent both daggers flying forward toward the closest templars. One lodged itself in one's Adam's apple, the other driving into one's chest. She kept running and yanked her daggers out of the templars' bodies before they hit the ground, her steps never slowing, never faltering.

"Andraste, guide me. Maker, take me to your side."

A dozen of templars rushed her and she spun around to face them, her long red curls wrapping around her slim stomach, the words of an enchantment falling from her lips. A traveling cyclone of lightning emerged and spun towards the group of templars, sucking them into the destructive force, spinning them and electrocuting them. The smell of burnt flesh and screams filled her senses, but she paid them no heed.

She didn't think. She just moved.

After a few attacks and blocks, red templars surrounded her, rushing her, and she spun in a tight circle, daggers extended, slashing at anything that came close to her.

Ten bodies fell at her feet.

A sword came slashing downward and she dodged before snapping her wrist forward, flicking her dagger at the templar's shoulder like a whip. The point of her dagger passed through his shoulder and he stumbled backward. She ripped the blade free and ducked under a swinging axe before coming up to lodge her dagger in the man's ribcage, the steel of the blade puncturing his heart.

An arrow came whizzing toward her and the Herald side flipped out of its path. The archer pulled another arrow from her quiver and aimed, but before she could release the arrow, the Herald rose and simultaneously lifted a smaller dagger from her belt and with a flick of her wrist sent it flying, the small dagger imbedding itself in the archer's throat.

The Herald heard the sound of lowly muttered words and she spun around to find a Tevinter mage muttering a spell as he extended his arm toward her. She dove to her right, avoiding the jet of sparks that shot from the sorcerer's fingertips. She threw her hand out in front of her and a ball of fire flew out of it, hitting the mage square in the chest and burning him alive.

Waves of soldiers rushed her, but Ember was faster. Her movements were graceful as she feinted and dodged, her attacks swift and powerful. She drew on every lesson Leliana had taught her, relying on the bard's words like a lifeline. Everything was a blur. Her mind was numb, body moving on pure instinct as her daggers slashed into the bodies that surrounded her, her hands moving to quick for her own eyes to follow. Blood sprayed across her armor, splashing across the snow turning it crimson, corpses filling the field of battle around her, the ranks of the red templars visibly thinning before her eyes.

But then another wave came. And then another. And then another.

Maker help her, they just kept coming. They were endless.

One templar tackled her to the ground but she swiftly lashed out with a spell, flinging the attacker back into a tree with enough force to shatter his bones. Another was already upon her, but she was on her feet in a flash, swinging her blades up into his chest with all of the force she could muster. Her blades tore through his armor and sunk into his flesh with a sickening thud that vibrated all the way up to her shoulders. She gave the daggers one more shove, driving them in to the hilt. Blood gushed from the wounds and onto her hands.

She pulled the daggers free right as a sword sliced across her shoulder from behind. She hissed in pain and brought her head around, using her long hair to her advantage. The heavy mass of curls slapped across the templar's face, granting her a distraction that allowed her to plunge her dagger into his exposed neck. One sword came swinging toward her in a whistling cut at her face and she was forced to bend backward to avoid it, like a dancer sliding under a pole.

When her back snapped straight the assault came without warning. A hard-knuckled fist smashed against her soft right cheek. Reeling sideways, she staggered, mouth open, blood flowing from a torn lip. The kick of a steel-toed boot rammed into her diaphragm. She doubled over in agony, unable to breathe. Her chest muscles squeezed painfully as she tried to suck in oxygen. A crushing blow to the face twisted her backward onto the snow. Spatters of warm, red blood gushed from her mouth and nose as the back of her head cracked against the ground. The Herald groaned in pain, her mouth open and bloody. The world was spinning around her, her body and mind lost in a stuporous daze.

She dug deep down into the reserves of mana within her, deeper than she ever had before. With a cry, she held up her hands and unleashed a torrent of magic. The wave of force that expanded from her sent every red templar flying back, as if they weighed nothing. Every building in Haven shook, and for a single moment she felt exhilarated. The mark on her hand was glowing bright green. The power… it was like nothing she had ever tapped into before. It flowed through her veins, filling her up. It would be so easy to do more. The strange power of the mark was at her fingertips, beckoning her to use it for the first time. She'd only ever used the mark to close the rifts, but it wanted to do more. So much more.

With a cry, the Herald of Andraste threw her hand forward and green sparks flew from it as the Veil tore and a rift formed above the heads of at least fifty red templars. Screams, loud and shrill, was all she could hear as they were sucked into the Fade, piece by piece, until there was nothing left.

The rift closed in on itself and the Herald fell to her knees in the snow, breathing hard from the exertion and the power. She looked down at the mark on her hand, utterly amazed she'd been able to form her own rift. She drew in deep breaths as she used the back of her hand to wipe the blood that was dripping into her eyes from the cut that split her eyebrow. Her tongue tenderly touched the split in her lip and tasted copper, her cheek already swollen from the blows to her face.

Knowing reinforcements would be upon her soon, she forced herself to her feet. A shiver of cold raced through her as she ran for the trebuchet. Snow illuminated white on the ground in front of her as her footsteps flew over the white powder. Soft pillows of snow bunched beneath her boots. Her scarlet curls caught the wind and whipped around her face, the bright red of her hair haunting against the milieu of snow that surrounded her. She looked over her shoulder as she ran to see another wave of red templars in the distance.

Once she reached the trebuchet, she threw a hand back behind her, muttering a spell Bethany Hawke had taught her. A sparkling wall of pure force rose up between them, the red templars slamming against it uselessly. She turned her back to them and quickly aimed the trebuchet.

Behind her, Knight-Captain Denam reached the wall of force. He channeled his own power, shattering it with a single blow of his sword. Hot pain flashed through her, but she didn't stop her task. With one last turn, the trebuchet was fully aimed for the mountain but before she could trigger it, a blast of force struck her. She was lifted off her feet, tumbling head over heels. With a grunt she landed on her stomach several feet away in the snow, and for a moment all was blackness.

The red templars were upon her in an instant, beating her with heavy metal boots, metal gauntlets, and sword hilts. She curled into herself, her screams muffled by the beating she was taking. She tried to summon mana, reached desperately down for power— anything at all— but her head and body only reeled in agony. Hot metal pierced her side and her throat released a pain-filled scream, and her fingers dug into the snow beneath her, fingers numb from the cold. She was overwhelmed with a familiar feeling - a creeping, aching, crawling feeling - that made her feel weak, worthless, utterly useless.

There was a sudden whooshing sound in the air above her, the sound of something moving very quickly in the air followed by the sound of the slashing of clothes and flesh. She looked up to find a dozen red templars fall dead around her, their throats slit.

Blue-green orbs widened as they landed on Cole crouched protectively in front of her. His eyebrows were pulled low and tight over dark-fringed, stormy blue eyes as piercing as a feral wolf's as they surveyed the approaching red templars with the promise of death.

Shock and panic rose quickly within her. "Cole…?" she whispered, her voice dry and cracking, her breath billowing puffs of white mist in front of her face.

"I won't let them kill you." His voice was low and rasping, the words sounding as if they'd been dragged up from the depths of his chest. Anger wasn't even close to what she saw on his face - it was much scarier.

One of the red templars gave a signal and the rest charged them at once. She tried to summon mana, but she had nothing left. With nimble dexterous fingers, Cole spun the daggers expertly in his hands before he became nothing more than a flicker in the moonlight. The only warning the red templars got was his blades flashing with lethal intent before they delivered death.

The Ghost of the Spire striked so suddenly and moved so fast he was just a blur of movement, and sometimes nothing at all, as he appeared and disappeared behind his enemies out of nothing but air. He would materialize behind a templar, and then there would be a flashing of steel and the spraying of blood as he attacked his unsuspecting victim. Then, in the blink of an eye, he would vanish into thin air just as quickly as he appeared. He was fast, so fast, and the red templars weren't able to follow him, and neither was she. He was like a shark moving amidst clueless swimmers. Unseen. Cold-blooded. Deadly.

Her breath caught as one very large templar shouted and charged at Cole from behind, double-handed sword raised over his head. She was about to call out a warning when Cole spun around and threw one dagger at the man. The point of the blade sank into the massive man's gut and the man stumbled back, staring down in shock at the blood-soaked steel sticking out of his stomach.

Cole turned and landed a swift kick to an approaching templar's stomach and the man doubled over. Cole rolled across the man's bent over back and pulled a hidden dagger from his boot while he did so. Cole stood and with a flick of his wrist sent the dagger flying into the Adam's apple of the archer that was aiming an arrow at his heart.

Cole rushed forward and ripped his dagger out of the massive man's stomach, who was still staring dumbfounded at the blade sticking out of his gut. Cole spun on the balls of his feet in the snow, using the momentum to cut the massive man's head from his shoulders, his head rolling off his bulky shoulders to land with a thud in the snow before the rest of his body followed.

The only sound that echoed around her was the clang of metal, the grunts of pain, the rasping of effort, and the whimpering of death. Sweet Andraste, Cole was the best damned killer she'd ever laid her eyes on. He killed with such deadly, silent efficiency, giving nothing but taking everything.

The Ghost of the Spire swiftly brought his daggers up to deflect the two swords aimed for his head and a ringing clang of metal hitting metal echoed in the clearing where the battle was taking place. Cole shoved the swords away and lunged forward, slashing his daggers across both their throats, cutting through bone and muscle. In an instant, flesh tore and blood sprayed. Both men's hands wrapped around their weeping throats before they crumbled to the snow. Cole spun to the right to bring his dagger up to meet a sword's downswing and shoved it away. With unimaginable speed, Cole spun back to check one sword with his dagger before whirling away from a second. He ducked under a blade swiping at his neck and drove his own deep into the man's stomach, intestines spilling out onto the snow. The man toppled as Cole smoothly pulled his dagger free to block another man's feint. He twisted smoothly and easily deflected a thrust and brought the point of his blade forward to ram into the man's exposed gut before embedding it in the ribcage of the last remaining templar.

A war cry beside her caused her eyes to snap from Cole to the red templar who was running toward her with his sword extended. Before she could arm herself, Cole seemed to impossibly flicker behind the man and sever his jugular with a clean swipe of his dagger.

Wide-eyed she stared at the corpse at Cole's feet before her eyes lifted to his face to find him watching her with great intensity. He didn't look away when she stared back at him. His eyes flickered down to stare fixatedly at the gash in her armor where bright red blood was pouring out of the stab wound she'd received and spilling into the snow around her. A frisson of dread danced down her spine as she saw how much blood she'd lost, as a fair amount of the snow around her was stained crimson.

Cole bent over and put her arm around his shoulders while his arms went around her torso, and he gently eased her up. Ember hissed in pain but together they managed to get her to her feet. Once she was standing, she staggered a little from blood loss, and she had to lean heavily on Cole causing his arms to tighten around her middle.

A flare shot into the air above the tree line in the distance. The Herald sighed with relief. It was Cullen's signal. The people were free. They'd made it.

"We… have to get to the… the trebuchet… and trigger it…" she breathed heavily as he walked her to the trebuchet, her hand pressed firmly against the wound at her side to staunch the flow of blood. Maker, she'd given anything to know healing magic right now.

Snow crunched beneath their feet with each step they took, and after a few she murmured, "Cole?" She looked up at him as they shuffled forward, snow dusting her crimson curls and eyelashes.

Cole's chin turned fractionally toward her. Thick, tousled honeyed locks fell carelessly over his chiseled face and into eyes so clear a blue that she could see the tiny flecks of white that were sprinkled within those cool irises.

"Why are you here, Cole?" Her voice shook, carrying to him on a gentle gust of wind as he helped her walk. "Why didn't you escape with the others? Why did you stay behind? This is my time to… to…" Her voiced faded to nothing as the wind whipped flurries of snowflakes around them, over them, past them causing her long red curls to wrap around her slim waist.

His hair blew across his forehead with the winter breeze as those haunted eyes bored into her with that impenetrable intensity that rattled her nerves. "I promised that no one was ever going to hurt you."

A massive black dragon with black scales like sharpened scythes, claws like spears, and teeth like swords landed in front of them, causing a small shockwave to erupt from the beast that shook the ground and knocked them backward into the snow. The dragon unfurled its massive wings that blocked out the moon, casting everything beneath them in blackness. The beast raised his head to the midnight sky and let loose an earth-shattering roar that shook the ground. The dragon's head turned to them and sucked in a breath before unleashing hellfire.

The Herald dove to the right out of the path of the great jet of fire while Cole was forced to dive to the left. A wall of fire separated them, but she hardly noticed as a monster unlike any she'd ever seen stalked toward her out of the dragon's fire.

Maker, it was a towering humanoid creature tainted with the blight. The thing was huge, as tall as an ogre, with large chunks of molten stone or a mage's cowl sticking out the side of his gaunt face. The flesh of his torso was torn and missing, revealing pieces of bone and red sinewy muscle. A large protruding piece of black metal or armor was sticking out of his chest. The rest of his body was covered in what looked like ancient magister's robes and large black feathery pauldrons covered his bony shoulders. The monstrosity was mutated, skeletal, and grotesque. An evil transfigured creature spat up from the depths of hell.

Dread and terror settled heavy like stones in her belly as the creature approached her and the dragon roared at her back, blocking her retreat, jaws snapping at her.

"Pretender, you toy with forces beyond your ken no more," the atrocity growled at her in a low voice that rumbled down upon her like distant thunder. The Elder One cast his eyes upon her, as if judging her worth and finding it lacking. "Such arrogance, to dare take for yourself the name Herald. I am more than you could ever be."

"And what is that, exactly? A hurlock?" she retorted, scared out of her wits but refusing to show it. "You're a darkspawn. Dark…spawn…" she said the words slowly, stretching out the syllables as if he were dimwitted. "You know, ravaging the Deep Roads, spreading the Blight. Does this ring a bell?"

"Ignorant fool," he spat. "I am no mere darkspawn. Do you not see a god before you? Exalt the Elder One. The will that is Corypheus." A skeletal hand extended toward her with long black claws. "You will kneel."

Ember made sure to enunciate properly. She was in the presence of a false god, after all. "Go. To. Hell."

The chuckle that escaped him was dark, the sound like malevolence scraping against a blackboard of evil. "You shall be the one entering the Black City. As soon as I get what I came for, what you stole from me. I am here for the Anchor." Corypheus lifted an orb in his hand, red energy surrounding it. "The process of removing it begins now."

His ghastly hand extended toward her and the mark on her hand glowed bright green, power from the Fade swirling around her hand. White-hot pain burned bright behind her eyes. Ember screamed, the sound echoing around her as she fell to her knees in the snow. She could see her veins glowing emerald green beneath her skin.

"W-What is this thing?" she gasped.

"A tool to assault the very heaven."

"What is it meant to do?"

"Aid me in championing withered Tevinter and correcting this blighted world." A nasty, malevolent smile curved his mouth. "Beg that I succeed, for I have entered the Golden City, seeking the power of the gods themselves. But it was… black… corrupt."

The Herald felt a sharp jolt of dismay and horror surge through her. "You… you were one of the first darkspawn. It was you and your kind who trespassed into the Maker's city and brought the Blight down on all of us!"

"Do not speak to me of your Maker," Corypheus hissed at her. "I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty. You owe me fealty."

Her face wrenched with anger, her aquamarine eyes shredding into his with their vehemence. "You are no god," she spat. "Your arrogance blinds you. I will enjoy humbling that pride of yours when my smile is the last thing you see on this earth before I separate your head from your pitiful body, just like any other mortal."

In the blink of an eye, he was upon her. His hand shot forward, elongated claws clamping tight and unyielding around her neck like an iron shackle as he lifted her easily off the ground. "The Anchor is permanent. You have ruined it with your stumbling."

Ember gasped and struggled for breath, her feet dangling above the ground, her punctured side raining droplets of blood that spattered the white snow on the ground beneath her.

"So be it. I will begin again. I will find another way to give this world the nation, and god, it requires."

She forced the words out past the hand on her throat. "My horse - is more god - than you."

"I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die." The creature vowed, eyes hard and uncompromising, knuckles white from his iron like grip on her neck.

Ember clawed at the immovable hand on her throat, wheezing, her face red and her eyes bulging under the forceful grip. Blackness fringed her vision as air refused to reach her lungs.

Suddenly, there was the tremendous grinding of chains and the loud creak of wood as someone unseen fired the trebuchet.

"What treachery is this?!" Corypheus bellowed as he turned to see that the trebuchet had hit its mark on the top of the mountain, the sharp movement causing him to drop the Herald in the process.

The Herald fell to the ground in a heap, clutching her throat and coughing as she gasped for air. She stumbled, pushing herself to her feet and pulling free the dagger she always kept strapped to her calf. Sweaty crimson curls blew across her face, her blue-green eyes burning like purgatory as she lifted the blade in her hand and rushed the false god while his back was turned.

A hand shot out and grabbed her hip from behind. With a sharp and powerful tug, she was yanked backward, her back colliding with the solid wall of a hard chest.

"No," she heard Cole whisper almost inaudibly in her ear. "It won't work, and you will die."

She tried to get away from him, tried to use the weapon on the Elder One, but Cole's fingers dug into her hipbone, holding her in place. When she continued to fight him, trying desperately to get free, his free hand came around her body to press against her belly and forced her back against him so she couldn't get away. Her heart lodged in her throat and her breathing came faster as his body pressed against her from behind.

Corypheus spun around to face them and every cell in her body stilled, waiting for the death she knew would come. But death did not come. Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. The Elder One was seething his head whipping this way and that as he frantically searched for the threat he could not see.

Then she felt it: a power so faint she barely noticed it was there. It was a hush that surrounded her like a blanket, thick and smothering.

And it came from Cole.

She turned her head to look up at him and saw Cole's eyes clamped shut. He was concentrating hard, a trail of blood seeping out of his nose.

He was making them invisible, she realized.

"Cowardly mortal!" Corypheus screamed, his voice cracking with his anger.

Her gaze snapped back to Corypheus, afraid he'd seen them. Violence and rage emanated from the Elder One's mangled form in rippling dark waves, but he stared straight through them.

"Come out, Herald! I know you're there!"

She tried to hold her breath, not wanting the darkspawn to hear and locate them. But her breathing was erratic. It couldn't be helped. Her eyes clenched shut and her knees became weak as she smelled the heat that rose from Cole's skin that was laced with a potent mixture of leather, cinnamon, sweat, smoke, blood and something musky and male that was entirely him. His body was surrounding her in warmth, charging the air with thick unseen tension that was so tangible it split her nerves, fraying them with each pulsing second as they stood perfectly still in the snow.

While Corypheus searched for them, her heart began battering her ribs as she felt Cole shift behind her. A tremor shook her as hot breath fanned across the nape of her neck just over the brand of the Chantry's sunburst. He lingered there and then she heard his deep intake of breath and could feel the tip of his nose against her nape. Goosebumps erupted all over her arms and neck as his body pressed closer, the entire length of him molding to the back of her. A warmth like no other she'd ever felt before began to gather at the pit of her stomach before slowly spreading out to her limbs in a trail of fire.

With a roar of rage, Corypheus ordered a harsh command to the dragon and the beast lowered its wing to scoop him up before taking flight to the sky once more.

The Herald of Andraste stood still, unmoving, despite the Elder One's disappearance. Cole was close. So close. Too close. She couldn't think straight. Couldn't stop her head from spinning. Couldn't see clear. After a few deep breaths she was able to clear her mind somewhat and gather some of her scattered senses. It was then that she noticed something in the distance. It was dark out, nothing but the full moon shinning against the midnight sky, casting a silver aura on the whiteness blanketing the earth and trees. Her eyebrows pulled together as she squinted, trying to see into the darkness. Around her, she heard the horrid hissing of the snow.

After a few seconds, her eyes slowly widened as she spotted a huge wave of snow far in front of her. Her face fell, her eyes stricken with terrible distress and panic that was tearing her apart inside as she watched a thick cloud of snow-dust preceding the thundering of the foremost part of the avalanche that was coming toward them.

Fast.

A sharp pain lanced through and she cried out as she doubled over, one hand pressed against the gash in her side, blood seeping warm and wet between her fingers. Her heart sank, as if it were strapped to a stone and tossed into a river. "Go," she ordered through clenched teeth, the pain excruciating. "Run, Cole. Run as fast as you can." Her eyes met his, bleak and hollow, her face pale, her breathing shallow. "If you run now, you'll still be able to make it."

Cole's answer was taut silence, a dark veil falling across his face that was now harsh with strain.

"Go!" Ember yelled at him, her voice edged with steel. "Now."

In one quick motion, Cole bent and slid his arms under her, one under her shoulders and the other under her knees, and lifted her effortlessly before turning and running as fast as he could away from the wave of snow that was rushing after them.

"No, no, no…" Ember cried out, wincing in pain as her wound pinched and began bleeding freely. "I'll just slow you down. You won't make it. Leave me. Leave me!"

Cole looked down at her with faint lines of pain etched around his mouth before he looked forward again, eyes narrowed in concentration, face set with resolve as his speed increased.

Cole ran.

He ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

Frozen rain swirled and spiraled violently to the ground around him. Under the sheet of snow, the ground was damp and muddy, causing the ground to be slick under his feet as he tried to out run the approaching avalanche, his sweat crystallizing on his brow. He breathed in short, explosive, gulps as he desperately sought more air. His legs were numb and unsteady, and each step he took was becoming increasingly more difficult to manage, his lungs starting to burn. Ember moaned in pain, blood trickling out of the corner of her mouth. The sounds of her pain and the sight of her blood fueled his movement and propelled him forward.

The speed of the avalanche increased rapidly and before long the ground on which Cole ran began to move slowly beneath his feet. A wave of snow crashed right behind them and Cole stumbled before falling backward into the snow. Cole pulled Ember protectively into his chest, falling with her in his arms. A dizzy sort of fear came over her as they were carried down the hill with the snowy wave, until they rolled into an open tunnel used for excavating rare metals.

In midair, Cole pulled her closer to him and rolled on his back right before they landed on the ground below, his back taking the brunt of the fall. They landed underground with a heavy thud, the air rushing out of Cole's lungs and blowing the hair back from her face. Cole groaned, pain etched into his features, his breath coming in short quick gasps as he sought to get the air back into his lungs.

The Herald's tightly closed eyes slowly opened to find herself lying on top of Cole, his arms wrapped securely around her. She stared at her hands that were pressed against his chest. They were trembling, the strong pounding of his heart beneath her palm. Her eyes slowly lowered and heat rose to her cheeks as she noticed the entire length of her body was pressed against the hard planes of his. She slowly dragged her eyes up his chest, his neck, his chin, until she reached his eyes.

Cole was staring down at her, wide-eyed and fearful, blatant concern reflected in the icy blue depths of his eyes.

"I'm… I'm a-alright," she stammered softly, answering the unspoken question in his eyes.

Cole's body visibly relaxed, relief crossing his features. After a score of heartbeats, his eyebrows slowly drew together. His eyes filled with a great sorrow that spoke of past pain that still lingered. His eyes shifted back and forth between hers, stroking the depths of them as he slowly reached up and ghosted a finger against a stray curl of red hair that hung over her eye. His finger lingered on the skin of her cheek, as if he couldn't bear not to touch her, his hand trembling ever so slightly.

Something cold fell on her back and the Herald looked over her shoulder to see a mountain of snow falling through the opening above them. She gasped and quickly reached deep down inside and summoned mana. The pain was incredible, almost blinding, but she fought through it with sheer will alone. With a shout of exquisite agony, she threw her hand up and a shield formed around them right before the avalanche of snow fell on them.

Her eyes were clenched, her body shaking, grunts of pain leaving her as she fought to keep the shield above them that was being trampled by endlessly falling snow that was slowly pilling up on top of the shield. She screamed as the last vestiges of strength left her.

As fast as lightening, Cole wrapped his arms around her and flipped them over so he was on top of her, her hips cradling his. Cole covered her head with his hands, using his body to shield her. Her eyes opened to see her shield disappear over Cole's shoulder and the mountain of snow fall on top of them. She turned her head at the last second and tucked her face into his neck with her eyes clenched shut as the snow fell on top of them, burying them. Snow fell heavy on the side of her face sending an icy blast shooting through her, chilling her to her bones.

Panic settled in as she realized they were buried alive beneath what had to be at least ten feet of snow. Maker, they were going to freeze to death. Her fear spiked and her chest burned with the dry, cold air she was drowning in like life. She felt dizzy, nauseated, horror edging to the surface.

She forced herself to calm, her pulse to slow, her panic to ebb. She had to remain calm. Hysteria, she had learned a long time ago, was a useless reaction. After a calming inhalation, she caught the heady scent of leather, cinnamon, and heat. On a breathy sigh, she let the tip of her nose trace the line of his strong jaw and breathed in the scent of his skin. Her teeth were chattering, causing her lips to quiver against the warm flesh of his throat. She felt Cole's arms tighten around her, clutching at her, holding her tightly, as if he feared she would slip away. On a ragged whisper she heard him murmur her name and the sound of it escaping his throat on the fearful, lowly, lonesome tones of his voice pulled at something tender inside her heart. And then blackness reached up and claimed her.

Author's Note: This chapter has a soundtrack: Rebirth by Two Steps From Hell.