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What followed seemed like an endless trail of rooms and corridors and tunnels and strange puzzles to solve in order to open doors. Hawke was lost almost as soon as they began. Fortunately, Varric seemed able to follow all the twists and turns, his keen eyes fixed on Larius ahead of them. So he followed Larius and Hawke followed him, and the others followed Hawke, Bethany keeping a close eye on Anders to make sure the mage didn't lose the last fragile thread tying him to his sanity.
The last thing Hawke wanted to do in the middle of this tower was have to kill one of their companions. Whether Anders would be in any condition for her to let him return to Kirkwall alive was another question, but she at least wanted to keep him on his feet and in his own mind long enough to defeat this Corypheus.
Finally, they reached the top, all of them except Larius stopping to take in great greedy gulps of the fresh air, and to gaze up in wonder at the beauty of the stars in the night sky. Mina found herself reaching instinctively for Varric's hand, and was far less surprised than she would normally be when it closed around hers.
"Come!" Larius urged them. "Hurry!"
Reluctantly, Hawke and her team kept moving. But before they reached the central pavilion, they found Janeka and her Wardens standing in front of them, blocking the way.
"You!" Larius shouted. "You again!"
"Yes. Did you really think those old wards would stop me?" Janeka sneered. She advanced on Larius. "Look at you. Barely able to string two thoughts together. You've only made it this far because of Hawke."
Hawke didn't bother to point out that Larius was leading them.
"You can still turn away," Larius urged. "Do not listen to his voice."
"No!" Anders called out behind them, and Hawke turned to see him with his hands to his head.
"You're a fool, Larius, and you should have died here years ago," Janeka said. "But it no longer matters. You're too late. Hand over Hawke, and I'll give you a quick death."
Hawke had no intention of being handed over.
"Hawke has made her choice—the right one," Larius said, his voice sounding stronger and more confident now that they were out of the tower.
"The right choice, or the only choice? Malcolm Hawke was not allowed to disagree."
The words made Hawke's blood boil. How dare they brag about how they had treated her father? She turned to Larius. "What does she mean by that?"
"It is the past! It does not matter."
"I think it does."
"Malcolm Hawke was reluctant," Larius admitted, turning away from Hawke. "He had to be … persuaded. I was Warden-Commander. It was my duty. I delivered an ultimatum: Help us, or never see her again."
Bethany gasped. "Her? Mother. You threatened our father!"
"You were going to kill our mother?"
"No, never. Not kill. No. He came with us; made it right. No matter."
"You see, Hawke?" Janeka said coolly. "You can never trust anything that Larius says."
"And I suppose you're any better? He's still right about Cotypheus, whatever he did in the past."
Janeka reached for her staff. "You can come willingly, or not."
Varric chuckled. "I've lost count of how many times I've heard that one."
Hawke had, too. And just like all those before her, Janeka soon came to regret her hasty words. She and her Wardens were formidable fighters, and Hawke and her team were weary—but they were also angry, and tired of being used, and more than ready to get the Void out of this tower once and for all.
It didn't take long before all the Wardens were down.
Larius looked around at the bodies. Hawke wondered if he really remembered that once he had been one of them. Then again, so had Anders, and he seemed as little affected at having killed those he would once have called brothers and sisters as Larius was. All things considered, Hawke was fairly unimpressed with the Wardens as a body, or at least, what she'd seen of them so far.
"Come," Larius said sharply. "He stirs. Slay him now, before he wakes, before his strength comes."
"He gets stronger when he wakes up?" Varric asked. "Fine time to bring that up."
"Most people do, Varric," Hawke pointed out.
"Don't logic at me, Hawke. Not now."
"Sorry. My mistake."
Ignoring them both, Larius paced back and forth in front of the central dais in the pavilion. "The key. It is not strong enough. Use your blood. Free him and slay him."
"Sister. Are you certain about this?"
Hawke drew the ugly sword. "If I don't, he remains in whatever half-awake state he's in, reaching out with his mind and sending people to kill us. I don't know about you, but more than enough people want to kill me already."
"Hawke." Varric's voice was hoarser than usual.
"It'll be fine, Varric," she assured him. "We'll wake him, we'll kill him, we'll be back in the Hanged Man by happy hour tomorrow."
"You mind if I hold you to that?"
"I'll mind if you don't."
Stepping up on the dais, she removed one of her gauntlets and slowly drew the edge of the blade across her palm, letting drops of her blood trickle down onto the floor beneath her. Golden light shot up all around her. Something told her to let go of the sword, and it floated in the midst of the light, glowing.
Then the light burst in a shower of sparks, sending both Hawke and the key skidding across the marble floor of the pavilion.