Cassandra fumed as they raced down the stairs, knuckles bulging around the grip of her sword. After all that fighting, after everything they had been through, after Morrigan had saved her life, the witch was gone again. Cassandra should have known it was coming. Her surprise and hurt only proved that she was a fool. She never should have been so trusting in the first place, but some stupid part of her had actually believed Morrigan was... well, not her lover or even her friend, but at least a decent ally. Someone who cared about her safety and the safety of their party, if not anyone else's feelings.

But no. All she cared about was that cursed well. Despite her better judgment, Cassandra was starting to believe that Abelas had been right. The promise of the well's power had certainly convinced Morrigan to turn back into her greedy, arrogant self. No, 'turn back' is wrong. I was wrong. She was always this way, and I've been too addle-brained to remember.

But there was nothing to be done about it now. Morrigan was gone, and there were plenty of Red Templars to kill. Cassandra threw herself into her task with everything she had. Normally, she prided herself on control above all else, but this time, she had fire in her eyes, and she let her anger feed her strength. She smashed in the head of the nearest enemy with her shield, not even bothering to follow up with a sword-swing when he collapsed onto the hard stone floor. The next templar ended up skewered on her sword. Even in her fury, Cassandra's strokes were precise. She knew just how to work her blade into the grooves of their armor.

She hacked and slashed her way down the steps and deeper into the temple, careless of the numbers they faced. Morrigan was somewhere up ahead, and although Cassandra had no idea what she would do when she found the witch again, she knew that finding her was necessary. Someone with motives like Morrigan's could not be trusted around the power of the Well of Sorrows.

But it was not Morrigan they found at the end of the next overgrown path. Instead, it was Samson, accompanied by even more Red Templars. He turned at their approach, and a sadistic smile curved above his blocky chin. He almost seems pleased to see us, Cassandra thought in disgust.

"Inquisitor? You've got a damned long reach," Samson said. He raised his arms, gesturing at the wide open space above them overlaid with dappled sunlight. "We come to the back end of nowhere, and here you are."

"Oh, you know me," Herah said, in a voice that was just a bit too jaunty. "I like to travel. Following you has taken me to some rather interesting places." Cassandra recognized that tone. It was the same forced humor the Inquisitor always used before she decided to put her boot to someone's backside. Even though Samson wasn't the object of her rage, Cassandra found herself looking forward to it. Morrigan had left her with a whole lot of hurt and betrayal, and smashing in Samson's head was a better outlet than most.

"You keep getting in over your head, don't you?" Samson asked.

"Corypheus chose me twice. First as his General, now as the vessel for the Well of Sorrows."

Cassandra rolled her eyes, exchanging a surprising glance with Sera. She and the elf agreed on very little, but they both shared their distaste for pompous fools and their monologues. "You know what's inside the Well? Wisdom. The kind of wisdom that can scour a world. I give it to Corypheus, and he can walk into the Fade without your precious anchor."

"What's your part in it?" Herah asked. "What's a 'vessel'?"

Samson tossed his head disdainfully. "What else empties a well? I'll carry its power to Corypheus. One more task entrusted to me. Being force-fed Chantry lyrium was good for something. This armor makes me a living fortress -mind and body."

Cassandra snorted in annoyance. Living fortress indeed. After everything else she had been through at the Inquisitor's side, Samson's threats were weak at best.

"I won't forget a word of the Well's knowledge. Corypheus will be unstoppable!" Red light pulsed through the grooves in his armor, swelling to surround him in slithering tendrils. "This is the strength the chantry tried to bind. But it's a new world now, with a new god. I will bring Corypheus the Well's power and your head, all at once!"

A smirk cross Herah's dark lips. "Power's all well and good. Until it's taken away." From her pocket, the Inquisitor produced the rune-covered disc that Dagna had been working on. A golden glow surrounded the object, and Samson's massive armor exploded out from him, leaving the traitor clad in only the normal mail of a Templar.

Samson fell to his knees, crying out, "What did you do?! What did you do?!" He staggered back to his feet, but his movements were still unsteady. "My armor! It's gone. The lyrium; I need it!" Turning back to his Red Templars, he screamed, "Kill them all!"

The corrupted warriors leapt to obey their master's command, and Cassandra eagerly sprang forward to meet them. She might not be much of a judge of character, but at least she could hit something very hard. The first Templar had his blade raised, but before he could attack, she caught it in a bind, pushing it aside and slamming her shield into his helm. He staggered two steps backwards, and before he could recover his bearings, she whirled her blade around. The steel found a joint in his armor just below the neck, and sunk deep, a fountain of blood spilling out from the cut while he crumpled to the ground.

That earned her Samson's attention. Clearly, whatever power Corypheus had given his "vessel" wasn't entirely stored in the armor Herah had destroyed, because he had grown to nearly half again his original size. He wielded what had once been a great sword in one hand, and when it crashed down on Cassandra, even her perfectly timed parry almost left her own blade flying from her hand.

She wasn't going to back down. When the next strike came, she met it with her shield instead. The greatsword slid off its surface, and when the shock ran down Cassandra's arm, she ignored the pain and struck Samson in hard the breastplate. The fallen Templar didn't flinch, but when he moved to press his attack, Cassandra heard a familiar cry of, "Duck, Grumpy!" coming from behind her.

Assuming that Sera meant her, Cassandra shifted to one side as a pair of arrows flew past her head, hitting Samson in the chest. One bounced off of his armor, but the other imbedded itself there, and the Seeker took advantage, renewing her attack. Now it was Samson on the defensive, trying to fend off a flurry of her blows.

"You're a disgrace," she snarled. "You've betrayed everything you swore to protect."

Samson met her blade with his own, bracing both of his hands behind it for greater leverage. "What I swore to protect is a decaying carcass of corruption and failure. Better to break those vows than continue to bleed for them as you do."

In light of the revelations about Lord Seeker Lucius, that cut a little close, but Cassandra wasn't about to admit that. "Better to serve a flawed Chantry than a madman who calls himself a god."

Growling with rage at her words, Samson surged forward, throwing Cassandra away from him. Around her, flames were everywhere. Herah was using her magic to drive back the other Templars, but Samson wasn't so easy to deter. He pressed forward, not even fresh arrows from Sera holding him back. One of his strokes forced his way past her guard, and she grunted with pain when it struck her heavy armor.

Cassandra held her ground as best she could, but in spite of her anger, she knew she couldn't match Samson's brute strength. When he struck next, she let the blow knock away her shield, extending her enemy's swing farther than he'd expected. While he was off-balance, Cassandra drove inside his guard. An armored fist struck his face while her sword pounded on on his shoulder greave. He toppled backwards, now off-balance and ripe for Iron Bull's follow-up. The qunari had evidently finished off whatever foes he'd been facing, and he struck at the base of Samson's spine with his greatsword.

The corrupted templar staggered and Cassandra threw her full weight against him, sending him careening over Iron Bull and onto the ground. While he struggled to rise, Cassandra gripped her sword with both hands and drove it into his back with all of her strength. Before she could even pull the blade back out, a ball of fire from Herah's staff followed and Samson's struggles ended, his battered body collapsing to the temple's ornate stone floor.

Even vanquished, Samson refused to shut up. "Not the Well, you wretch," he growled. "You can't take it from Corypheus. You musn't…" But he had no more strength left to make good on his demands. With a final gasp, the fallen Templar crumpled onto the ground, unconscious but incredibly, still alive.

"We can take him back to Skyhold for judgement," Herah declared, showing more mercy than Cassandra would've bothered with.

But that debate would have to wait. Behind them, Abelas had returned and in a flash of green light, a stairway of root and stone was forming, creating a path up towards the Well of Sorrows. Cassandra dashed off towards it with the rest of the group close behind.

Herah cried out, "Abelas," but their erstwhile ally didn't stop for her. He continued sprinting, green light following his feet. Just as he reached the top of the stairs, however, another player entered their drama. A large raven landed in between Abelas and the Well, and in a flash of purple, it took on a human shape once more. Morrigan had returned.

Morrigan narrowed her eyes at Abelas as he stood before her, daring him to move. She watched the elf with intense calculation, fingers clenched into fists. The Well was the key to everything, not just Corypheus's defeat, but to unlimited knowledge and the answers to thousands of questions. She could not afford to let him destroy such an ancient, beautiful thing out of fanaticism and spite.

Before she could give voice to her silent challenge, she saw Herah charging up the steps after them, Cassandra, Sera, and the Iron Bull hot on her heels. The sight of Cassandra's blood-spattered armor made her falter just a little, but she didn't let it show. She had more important priorities than dealing with... whatever the awkwardness between the two of them was. She could tell from the pain in Cassandra's dark eyes that the Seeker was furious with her for fleeing, and it took more effort than she expected to break the intense gaze they had formed over Abelas and Herah's shoulders.

At last though, she managed to avert her eyes and bury her guilt. What she had done didn't matter. Cassandra's feelings didn't matter. All that mattered was the goal: preserving the Well. "You heard his parting words, Inquisitor," Morrigan said, forcing herself to focus on Herah. "The elf seeks to destroy the Well of Sorrows. We cannot afford to let him."

Abelas gave her a hateful look and backed away, bitter in his defeat. "So, the sanctum is despoiled at last," he hissed, his tattooed face sneering beneath his hood.

Morrigan returned his glare. "You would have destroyed the Well yourself, given the chance."

"To keep it from your grasping fingers. Better it be lost than bestowed upon the undeserving."

"Fool," she spat, unable to contain her anger. The thought of such a gift being squandered enraged her like little else could. "You'd let your people's legacy rot in the shadows."

"Enough!"

Morrigan was both surprised and disappointed to see Herah glaring at her. She felt a stab of betrayal, and it doubled when she noticed Cassandra give a jerking nod of approval. Somehow, the thought that Herah, a respected ally, and Cassandra, someone she had begrudgingly grown to admire, both disapproved of her decision hurt. It reminded her uncomfortably of the creeping softness she had felt in the Warden's presence.

She did her best to brush it aside and rolled her eyes. "Inquisitor, you cannot honestly-"

"I said enough," Herah repeated. Although normally soft-spoken for a leader, her tone now allowed no room for argument.

Still, Morrigan thought, I must persuade her. At all costs, the Well must be preserved. "Please, think this through. The Well clearly offers power. If that power can be turned against Corypheus, the one who destroyed your Haven and created an unthinkable future, can you afford not to use it? Would you be able to live with the consequences?"

She was gratified to see a flicker of doubt in Herah's eyes. Apparently, she had hit her mark. Even Cassandra's look of betrayal faltered as she considered the argument. I do not need her approval, Morrigan reminded herself. I need only convince Herah to side with me and allow me to drink. But for some reason, she couldn't keep from stealing glances at the Seeker anyway.

"Do you even know what you ask?" Abelas interrupted. "As each servant of Mythal reached the end of their years, they passed their knowledge on through this." He gestured at the Well's smooth, undisturbed waters. "All that we were, all that we knew, it would be lost forever."

"It's better that knowledge remain in the Well, never passed on?" Herah asked. "You'd rather destroy it?"

Abelas paused, giving the Well a long look, as if he was preparing to leave a lover. "You have shown respect to Mythal," he conceded. "And there is a righteousness in you I cannot deny. Is that your desire? To partake of the Vir'abelasan as best you can, to fight your enemy?"

Instead of being happy that this badly needed power was being offered to her, though, Herah turned suddenly cautious. "Gifts like this don't come freely."

Abelas nodded in agreement. "No boon of Mythal was ever granted without cost. The Vir'abelasan may be too much for a mortal to comprehend. Brave it if you must, but know this: you shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal."

Morrigan would not be so easily intimidated. Not now. Not when she was so close to what she sought. "Bound?" she asked, contempt threading through her voice. "Bound to the will of a Goddess who no longer exists, if she ever did?"

The sentinel's eyes hardened. It was clear he liked Herah far better than her. And what of it? I do not require his approval either. I do not require anyone's approval. "Bound as we are bound," he insisted. "The choice is yours."

"Is it possible this Mythal might still exist?" Herah asked.

"Anything is possible," Abelas replied, and when Morrigan saw the flickers of doubt in Herah's dark eyes, she knew she had to stop her from turning away at the precipice of what they needed.

"Elven legend states that Mythal was tricked by Fen'Harel and banished to the Beyond," she reminded the Inquisitor.

"'Elven' legend is wrong," Abelas disagreed, his disdain for what currently passed for his race's lore evident. "Fen'Harel had nothing to do with her murder."

For once, Morrigan was surprised. "Murder?" she asked. "I said nothing of…"

"She was slain," Abelas continued. "If a god truly can be. Betrayed by those who destroyed this temple. Yet the Vir'abelasan remains. As do we. That is something."

"You could come with us," Herah offered as the sentinel turned to leave, "And fight Corypheus. He killed your people."

Abelas shook his head. "We killed ourselves long ago." The sheer weight of grief and regret he bore was palpable, and in spite of how distasteful she found his fanaticism, Morrigan was able to manage a twinge of pity for him. But it didn't last long. She had a far more important problem to see to than the sorrow of an old elf. Now that the Well had been offered to them, she had to make sure she was the one to drink from it.

She turned back to the pool and the strange mirror that stood behind it. "You'll note the in-tact Eluvian," she told Herah. "I was correct on that count, at least."

"Is it still a threat? Can Corypheus use it to travel the Fade?" the Inquisitor asked.

Herah was a skilled mage, but her expertise lay more in combat magic than arcane secrets, and Morrigan explained, "You'll recall when I took you through my Eluvian, I said each required a key? The Well is that key. Take its power, and Mythal's last Eluvian will be no more use to Corypheus than glass."

She stared out into the shimmering waters, and as she did, a strange feeling came over her. As much as she wanted to drink from it, it seemed as if it wanted her to drink from it, to touch her as she would touch it. "I did not expect the Well to feel so hungry," she admitted.

Herah raised an eyebrow. Perhaps she sensed the same thing, or perhaps she was just reacting to Morrigan's statement. "It seems like that should be a concern."

Morrigan took a deep breath, forcing down her worries. She had come too far to turn back now, and she had to make the Inquisitor see that before she made a dreadful mistake. "Knowledge begets a hunger for more," she replied. "I am willing to pay the price the Well demands. I am also the best suited to use its knowledge in your service. Of those present, I alone have the training to make use of this. I have studied the oldest lore. I have delved into mysteries of which you can only dream. Let me drink, Inquisitor."

Herah must have known that she was right, but even still, she hesitated, turning back to their companions for advice. "Thoughts?"

It was Cassandra who answered. Her erstwhile lover had been silent for some time, and when she finally spoke, Morrigan was unsure what to make of her words. "If it is truly between you and her…" she paused before finishing her sentence, "Then let her take the risk. Maker help us all."

Morrigan knew she should be grateful that Cassandra was supporting her cause, but she couldn't help being irritated that the Seeker was so willing to risk her instead of Herah. Enough! she snapped at her own thoughts, Cease this foolish caring! It is the Well that matters, not that woman's opinion of you.

While she tried to shut down her inner voice, Sera spoke. "It's called the Well of Sorrows," she protested. "No one should go into the Well of Sorrows." But Morrigan knew what she really meant. The elf feared magic, and while she might have preferred that the Well remain untouched, what she really didn't want was for Herah to take it into herself.

Perhaps the Inquisitor knew that too, because she turned to Morrigan and sighed before saying, "All right. It's yours."

Morrigan did not bother with a reply. Instead, she turned back to the Well and waded in without hesitation. As soon as her first foot touched the water, green light swirled up from its depths, wrapping around her body even while mists enveloped her. She spun around in the warm liquid, trying to take in all that it had to offer, but as the power began to seep into her skin, it was more than she had expected. A tidal wave of thoughts, memories, and emotions crashed into her head, a blur of images and sounds that she couldn't process all at once. Without even a chance to cry out, she collapsed, falling into the water. The last thing she saw before she passed beneath its surface was Cassandra rushing toward her.