Chapter 27: Threats Past, Present, and Future
Skyhold stood as it had for time immemorial, piercing the sky like a material echo of the Black City itself.
I wonder, Max mused. He had been given plenty to think about on the trip back, and, with Leliana's troubles apparently resolved, he found himself failing to follow his own advice and focusing on Solas. A dark theory had come to him—a theory that his cool-headed moments told him just could not be, it was so outlandish, but in his heart he suspected it could be true. He had always had an extremely good memory, which had served him well to recall his Fade visions—and had made the theft of his memories at the Conclave so disorienting until the Spirit of Faith returned them. Now that his mind was clear and he had time, he thought about what had happened at the Temple of Mythal. Some events—some things that the Sentinel had said and done—suddenly stood out to him.
Abelas gave Solas a pointed look when he said that "the Dread Wolf," the elven trickster god, had not done anything to Mythal, Max had mused on the ship. And he sees Solas himself as one of his own kind, unlike, apparently, any other elves in Thedas. Why would that be? Solas spent years in Uthenera, he claims. It was how he learned so much about the Fade. He spent a lot of time there. We never bothered to question him about just how much time it was.
His... other form?... in the Fade looked like an animal, but not the Nightmare demon or anything arachnid. Instead it looked like a monstrous...
Max had resisted the word for a while. Part of him wanted to reassure himself that Solas had not lied to them about his appearance and that the Crossroads had done it to him. But that had not made sense. It didn't do anything to anyone else. Either that place reacted differently to him because he is Something Else himself... or he lost control of a power within that place. But he appeared to be transforming into a monstrous... a dreadful... wolf.
It would explain some things. Solas knew things that no one in this age should know. The Dalish clans they had encountered certainly had not. Dorian was probably the best-educated mage Max had ever known, with access to all the tomes of magic that he could ever want, but Solas knew things that Dorian did not. And those things were all either highly obscure, like Rift magic, or were from an incomparably ancient time.
Could he have learned so much from spirits in the Fade? Max had wondered. If he could distinguish between the ones who can be trusted and the ones who cannot, perhaps. But never to make a single mistake in years, even in the learning stage? Never to listen to the "knowledge" of a demon? No one would be that lucky. When he entered Uthenera, he already knew what he needed. That or he is at the top of the "food chain," so to speak, so the spirits feared him rather than the reverse.
What did Solas really want with that elven orb that Corypheus had? What was he trying to do?
And at this point, Max had had to cease his inner questioning, because he could not answer that one satisfactorily. The best, the nicest and least menacing, explanation he could devise was that when Corypheus had stolen the orb, it had pulled Solas out of Uthenera and sent him on a mission to recover the object.
Max had wondered if his lips would be silenced as Morrigan's were if he tried to utter the words "Dread Wolf" or "Fen'Harel." Perhaps if he didn't say them in Solas's very presence, it would be all right. To that end, he had tested this by raising his theory to Dorian as they pulled into harbor at Jader.
To his pleasure, nothing had happened. He was able to speak the name without difficulty.
The theory had shocked Dorian. "I... must say, that would account for some peculiarities," Dorian said, eyes wide. "After all, we have learned that the Chantry's story of the Magisters Sidereal is partly true. Why shouldn't the stories of the Dalish be partly true as well? Legends sometimes have a basis." He frowned in contemplation. "But you were able to say this to me. Morrigan was not. Could that mean that this is not the truth after all?"
Max had not considered that. "I don't know," he had admitted. "It could mean that, I admit, now that you've pointed it out. But it could also mean that I wasn't around Solas—or Morrigan herself, who has some magical connection with priests of Mythal now—when I said it. She was."
Dorian had nodded. "So the question is, was it something that he did then and there, an act he performed on her in the moment, or was it a restriction that he imposed magically over the truth, no matter who may speak it?"
"We could test it at Skyhold," Max had said. "If we can't speak of it in his presence, we'll know that it's the truth."
"And you were wiser than Morrigan," Dorian had pointed out. "You did not try to blurt it out in front of him, so you were able to share your suspicion with me first. Solas cannot take that away."
A dark shadow had come over Max's heart at this. "Can't he?" he had said. "Cole could. It's another horrid thing he did in the name of 'compassion,' stealing people's memories away."
"Maker's breath," Dorian had breathed. "You're right. And Solas has been close to Cole for months—"
"I'm very glad that I have made Cole understand things differently and start regulating his behavior better," Max had said, eyes wide. "He knows that some things he did are wrong. And seeing Nightmare in the Fade made an impression on him. It may be that Solas doesn't have the hold he used to."
"Let us hope."
Skyhold was in an uproar when they finally arrived, so Max did not get the chance to test his theory after all. Cullen hurried to them, upset and worried.
"Inquisitor!" he exclaimed. "Thank the Maker you're here. Morrigan chased her son into the eluvian! She was terrified, and neither of them has come out!"
Max blinked. "How did the eluvian become active again?" He exchanged a dark look with Dorian. Solas? He's the obvious suspect. Do we indeed have an enemy in our midst? Will we have to deal with him before Corypheus after all?
But Cullen instantly and unknowingly dispelled their fears. "Morrigan said that Kieran himself did it, then ran into the mirror."
Dorian and Max turned to each other. "I don't like this," Max said. "Could—he—have used the boy to trap her in there? Since she apparently knows too much?"
"It would be my guess," Dorian said darkly. "And that means it is monumentally foolish to follow her, since we might know too much too."
Max grimaced. "But we might need her... and Kieran is just a child." He took a deep breath as he made his decision. "Dorian, you stay here. You have the same knowledge, or theory, or whatever, that I do. And if either of us must go, it should be me, because of this." He flexed his marked hand. "If I don't come back, tell them everything."
Dorian did not look happy, but he understood and assented.
Through the eluvian, Max hurried along trails. This isn't the Crossroads, he thought, recalling how that place looked. This is the Fade. How could Kieran, a child, have bypassed the Crossroads entirely and also made the mirror do the same thing for anyone else who used it? To his thinking, this sort of power was further evidence that Solas was behind it. Anyone who would manipulate—possibly even mind-control—an innocent child as bait to lure in others was contemptible to him, past friendship and alliance or no. He steeled himself for an ugly confrontation.
But before he met Kieran, Solas, or anyone else, he encountered Morrigan herself.
She stared at him, fearful. "Go back! I must find Kieran before it is too late, before—" She scowled. "Before something of which I cannot speak takes him."
Max's heart sank. "Was he lured in here?"
"I know not! I saw him rush in alone, but I do not know by whom, or why. I fear the worst, however." She gazed out. "This is the Fade! How could Kieran do this? To direct the eluvian here would require immense power! If he is lost to me now, after all I have sacrificed..."
Max did not bother asking what she thought she had sacrificed. Instead he focused on the fact that Morrigan herself was terrified of the power necessary to do this. This seemed to get worse and worse. "That's all the more reason why I shouldn't go," he said. "We'll find him."
"This is the Fade, Inquisitor. He could be anywhere."
"And my presence somehow makes it worse? How?" Max replied hotly. "Be logical, Morrigan. You and I have powers that no one else does. We should both be here." He paused. "What do the voices tell you?"
"Nothing since I entered this eluvian."
Max wondered about that. The entire situation became more chilling the more he learned about it. Could we not have at least finished off Corypheus first before we have to deal with a new enemy? he thought grumpily as he searched with Morrigan along the strange roads. Of course, he knew that the world did not work that way.
Max could not have said how it happened, but it did not take that long for Morrigan to cry out at the sight of... a child. "Kieran!" she exclaimed, hurrying suddenly toward her son.
Who was not alone.
Max expected him to be in the company of Solas, but as he hurried to keep up with Morrigan, it became apparent that that was not the case. Instead he was with an older woman, whom Morrigan clearly knew and disliked.
"Inquisitor," Morrigan glowered angrily, "let me introduce you to my mother, Flemeth."
Max regarded the woman warily. "Charmed, I'm sure," he said, drawling the words remarkably like Dorian would have done. "Did you open the eluvian and direct it here?"
The old woman laughed, and it was a very witchy cackle indeed. "Morrigan has been telling stories about me, has she? But I thought you were raised better than this... Inquisitor. Where are your manners, to accuse an old woman instead of greeting her?"
Max eyed her. "I'm not inclined to be courteous to anyone who would abduct a child to lure others into danger. If you didn't do that, I do apologize. But then, what happened?"
"Kieran came to see his grandmother," Flemeth said, smiling. "Good lad. Sense often skips a generation."
"Who activated and directed the eluvian?" Max insisted.
"The boy himself, of course. He does have great powers." Flemeth smiled again, but these smiles were vaguely sinister to Max's eyes.
"And that is why you want him!" Morrigan raged. "I know how you plan to extend your life, you wicked crone! You will not have me, and you will not have my son!" She began to cast a spell.
Flemeth scoffed. "That's enough. You will endanger him." Her eyes flared suddenly, reminding Max of Anders' eyes under the influence of Justice—or like those of Solas in his partial transformation in the Crossroads. To Morrigan's shock, her spell halted abruptly.
"What have you done?" she exclaimed, trying to recast it and failing.
"I did nothing. You drank of the Well of Sorrows yourself, in the teeth of those who sought to prevent you from doing it."
Morrigan and Max fell silent. "Mythal?" he sputtered. "But... how? I'm not Fereldan, but I've heard of the legend of Flemeth..."
"Then you know that it claims Flemeth let a demon possess her," Flemeth said. "Legends are often partially true and partially false. You know this too, Inquisitor." She regarded them both, reveling in Morrigan's horror. "It was no demon, but instead, a wisp of an ancient being who came to me. I was once but a woman, crying out in the lonely darkness for justice. Mythal granted me all I wanted and more. I have carried her through the ages ever since, seeking the justice that she was denied so long ago."
Max scowled. "And how do you know it wasn't a demon?"
Flemeth turned to Morrigan. "What do you hear from the voices, girl?"
Morrigan's expression was horrified. "They say you speak the truth."
Max considered rapidly what he had just learned. I saw Flemeth stop Morrigan from casting a spell. She shouldn't have been able to do that, even in the Fade, unless Morrigan did magically bind herself to her. So did Solas not seal her lips in the Crossroads after all? Did Flemeth—Mythal—do it? But if she did, why?
But he did not dare ask. Whoever and whatever Solas truly was, he had some sort of peculiar reverence for Mythal that he had shown at the Temple. It was entirely possible that the two were allied in secret. Max was not about to give this woman information that could be used against him. He just hoped that she could not reach into his head without his knowledge.
"What is it that you want with Kieran, then?" Max finally asked.
"One thing, and one thing only." Flemeth gave the boy a look.
He turned to his mother. "I have to go now, Mother."
"I will not allow it!" Morrigan insisted protectively, and in spite of everything, Max approved wholeheartedly. Whatever else she might be, she meant to be a good mother.
"He carries a piece of what was, snatched from the jaws of darkness," Flemeth intoned. "You know this."
Max gave the child a sideways look. "A piece? The same kind of piece that you carry?" His skin crawled at the thought.
Flemeth cackled again. "You are a clever one."
"He is not your pawn!" Morrigan insisted. "You will not have him! He is my son!" She turned to Max. "Inquisitor, Flemeth extends her life by possessing the bodies of her daughters. She meant to do it to me. I thwarted her. Now she intends to have my son instead!" She turned to Kieran pleadingly. "You do not belong to her, my son!"
Flemeth stared hard at Morrigan. "Hear my proposal, then. You have foolishly bound yourself to me by grasping beyond your reach, but I will release you—if you let me take the lad. Let me take him, and you are free of me forever. Or keep him with you and you will never be free of me."
Morrigan was outraged. "You think this is a choice? You must think I am no better a mother than you are, you vile hag." She stood protectively in front of Kieran. "He returns with me. Take my body over in front of my son, if you dare. Make him watch as you do it."
Max faced Flemeth with a hard look. His heart was pounding, and he feared what might happen from this defiance, but he couldn't permit this. Even if it were not horrendously immoral to let an innocent child be possessed, he feared what they might be facing if Flemeth—who already held part of the soul of an elven goddess—combined her essence with whatever it was Kieran carried. "If you want him, you'll have to go through both of us," he warned, sparking the green magic on his hand threateningly. "And if you kill me, who will defeat Corypheus? You do want him defeated, don't you?"
"More than you can know. But if you insist that I go through you both..."
Max watched in horror as a glowing orb emerged from Kieran and passed into Flemeth. Morrigan was frozen still, but he cried out and tried to hold the boy, sure that the child was going to collapse on the ground dead—
Kieran blinked. "No more dreams?"
"No more dreams," Flemeth said.
"What?" Max exclaimed. "You made him Tranquil? What did you do?"
"I took away the extra," Flemeth scoffed. "He still has his own soul, and he still has his Fade connection. You said that I must go through you. I did."
Kieran took Morrigan's hand.
"A soul is never forced upon the unwilling, Morrigan," Flemeth said. "You were in no danger from me."
And with that, the scene around them dissolved, and all three of them—minus Flemeth—found themselves back in Skyhold.
"She lies," Morrigan said at once. "We have witnessed Corypheus force himself on others. That Warden at the Temple of Mythal, but also, he did so to a Warden in the Vimmark Mountains years ago who could not possibly have been willing, even if the one in his service was. Flemeth is a liar. That or she has no understanding of what it is to be 'willing.'"
Max did not want to debate that. He did not particularly believe Flemeth's parting remark either, but it seemed that she had not forcibly possessed anyone—rather the reverse, in Kieran's case.
"She wanted the Old God soul for herself," Morrigan continued.
"The... Old God soul? As in the Old Gods of Tevinter?"
"Yes. It was taken from the Archdemon at the end of the Fifth Blight. He has never known anything else. I hope he can recover from this loss..." She pulled Kieran close, caressing his head. "I suspected that she was not truly human, but this? I always suspected the 'elven gods' were just glorified rulers, but now I do not know."
"What is a god, lowercase-g?" Max asked rhetorically. "'A glorified ruler' is as good a definition as any."
"'Tis true."
"But," he continued, "this is very concerning. Flemeth apparently now possesses the soul of Mythal and that of Urthemiel." And she is in some sort of alliance with Solas, perhaps. Who may be Fen'Harel the Dread Wolf.
"Kieran had a destiny, and now it is in Flemeth's hands. I cannot say that this pleases me, especially given... what else I have learned. But I cannot speak of it. I am not permitted to."
Max took a deep breath. Did he dare? Dorian knows too, he reminded himself. Or—he theorizes it too. "I... think I may have deduced what you were prevented from speaking of," he said carefully. "It is alarming indeed."
Morrigan glanced up sharply at him. "Do not even allude to it in my presence. I do not know who, or what, may be watching. Listening. He may be eavesdropping."
He, Max noted as he gave her a curt nod. Not "she." Solas, not Flemeth.
Morrigan breathed heavily. "One foe at a time. We must deal with Corypheus. The voices in the Well have shown me how to transform myself into a dragon to match his own. With that dragon destroyed, he will find it harder to possess others bearing the Taint."
"But not impossible?"
She gave him a dark look. "He is alive today because he possessed a Grey Warden in the Vimmarks before that dragon was in his service. He has this ability of his own accord, as Mythal did. But the dragon expands his range."
Max still didn't like this. "We have two Grey Wardens here at Skyhold."
"They must be sent away, then, for their own safety."
Max gave a quick nod and scrambled to his feet—but as soon as he reached the doors of the eluvian's storage room, they burst open to reveal Cullen, Dorian, and Cassandra.
"Inquisitor. Morrigan. Thank the Maker you're back," Cullen said. "But we have no time to lose. Skyhold has fallen under attack!"
Max stood upright. "By Corypheus?"
Cassandra was the one who responded, and outrage filled her words—outrage and disbelief. "I am ashamed to say, by the Seekers."
Max had very little time to prepare himself. The most he could do was grab a staff and pull on some light armor. He hoped that they would be able to pick off the attackers from the heights of Skyhold.
"You remember the envy demon that was impersonating Lucius Corin, of course," Cassandra said to him as they hurried down the corridors to battle.
Oh, Max remembered. He would never forget the thing or the visions it showed him—visions that almost came to pass.
"I have wondered what became of the real Lucius, but I never looked into it. I just assumed that he was dead after he did not surface soon after that. Envy demons keep their victims alive to learn more about them, but that one had already decided to try to impersonate you instead. It had no further use for Lucius."
Max thought he realized where this was going. "But you have seen Lucius with this attacking army?"
"I would not say 'army,' exactly. It is not large enough. But yes, he is here, leading it."
"All Seekers? No Red Templars or anyone else?"
"All Seekers, at least as far as I can tell," she confirmed. "And does anything about that seem odd to you, Inquisitor?"
He considered for a moment. "Where have they been all this time?"
She nodded once. "Precisely."
"You think Corypheus has been keeping them hidden?"
"Hidden, in reserve... yes. If he is bringing them out now, it means that he has indeed lost his other forces, as we had hoped was the case."
"Then let's finish them off."
"We shall, but... I want to know what he did to them. Why they would betray their mission like this. Seekers do not take lyrium and cannot become Red Templars. Our powers have another source." She shook her head. "If possible, we need to take Lucius alive."
"Could they have defected by choice?"
"I cannot believe that without proof. I have always thought the source of our power was the Maker Himself..."
I can tell you right now that it isn't, Max thought darkly as he reached a rampart. One thing that's become crystal clear to me is that the Maker does not involve Himself so directly as that. If He did, your order wouldn't have failed so utterly to regulate the Templars. It wouldn't have refused to work with the Inquisition. It wouldn't have sat out the entire war.
Max found Dorian and stood next to him to lob spells upon the attacking force. He gave his amatus a quick nod and murmured under his breath, "Morrigan and Kieran are safe. I'll tell you more later."
"Of course," Dorian agreed.
As he sent fireballs and lightning bolts down upon the force, Max noticed that some of the enemy combatants did not appear to be Seekers. He also noticed that the ones who wore the sigil of the Seekers seemed to be either strangely dead-eyed, as if they were being controlled, or they were the direct opposite: fanatically angry and hostile.
Varric spoke up. "There are others among them. Not just Seekers, Seeker."
Cassandra's gaze was hard. "I know. I see now. Promisers. But why are the Seekers fighting by their side?"
"What are 'Promisers'?" Max asked as he shot a bolt at a knot of fighters.
"The Order of Fiery Promise. Enemies of the Seekers for ages. It is a cult with odd beliefs about us. They think they are the true and rightful Seekers, and we stole power from them to prevent them from ending the world."
"Not ending the world sounds like a good thing," Dorian cracked.
"Cults always want to end the world," Varric muttered with a roll of his eyes as he shot a spray of bolts downward.
"It is all foolishness, of course," Cassandra scoffed. "Recreating the world as a 'paradise' without evil."
"But they... teamed up now?"
"Or something worse."
Max did not inquire as to what that might be. He could readily enough guess. Teamed up or forced to fight with their enemies. Corypheus could have done that. He wants to "end the world" and create a "paradise" too.
At last they picked off this group of foes. Max led his friends downstairs to see what they could find among the bodies. He hoped that some might be left alive to talk.
"Look," Cassandra said, hurrying to a corpse. She picked up a flapping piece of paper. "'As the Seekers of Truth have proven resistant to the effect of red lyrium, the Elder One has seen fit to place them in your care. Reclaim your destiny, and know that the Elder One expects your devotion as repayment.' Signed Magister Calpernia."
Max exchanged looks with the others. "I'm glad she's dead, then."
"I am not!" Cassandra objected. "We could have questioned her about how he captured the Seekers and what he did to make them fight by the side of their mortal enemies!"
"We'll just have to investigate further," Varric said, trying to reassure and calm her. "We can't not defend ourselves. If people fight us, they often die. And Inky offered Calpernia the chance to turn. She rejected it."
"I know, Varric," Cassandra said. "It is not our fault, but it is frustrating."
"Could the envy demon have done this, posing as the Lord Seeker?" Dorian asked.
"It is possible. We need to see what we can find."
They continued their search of the grounds—the battlefield—encountering a handful of Seekers and Promisers who were still alive. One, Cassandra's old apprentice—a young man named Daniel—told them that the Lord Seeker himself, not the demon, but Lucius himself, had been responsible for the betrayal. Cassandra had not wanted to accept this.
Varric was grim about it. "The envy demon passed himself off as Lucius successfully. That means its personality was fairly damn close to his."
Cassandra grimaced. "That... is true enough. There were some oddities in the demon's behavior, but nothing remarkable."
They continued the search of the grounds, finding plenty of dead and dying people, but not encountering Lucius Corin—until at last, Cassandra herself looked behind a stone in the courtyard and found the injured man.
"Lucius," she said, drawing her sword on him. "Explain yourself."
He burst into a malevolent smile. "You have your explanation, Cassandra. That can be the only reason you pursue me. You know. You just do not want to believe it."
"Why have you done this?" she exclaimed, finally unable to deny it.
"You realize that we Seekers were the original Inquisition, do you not? We sought to impose order on chaos, to remake the world. But what did we do? What did we create? The Chantry, the Circles of Magi, and the Templars. A war without end. The Mage-Templar War happened because of us."
Max, Varric, Leliana, and several others exploded in outrage at this arrogant statement. "That is the most ridiculous thing—" Max broke off, because he had heard plenty of ridiculous things in his life and this wasn't the worst. But it did rank. "The Mage-Templar War happened because the Templars were abusing their authority and the Chantry refused to see mages as people! You had nothing to do with it! It wasn't some grand Seeker conspiracy!" he scoffed.
"We created all three institutions. We failed to rein in the Templars. It is our fault that the war happened, and all that followed from it. The demons of weaponry that have been unleashed from their bottles."
Max scoffed derisively. "You take agency away from those who actually made the choices—right choices in some cases! Such arrogance, as to think that you could have controlled the entire Chantry, Templar Order, and Circles! That you manipulated them all into having a war, and if you just hadn't done so, none of it would have happened!"
"He is right," Dorian said. "I am not a southerner, but I know enough of the causes of the war to know that much. The mages of the southern Circles revolted because they did not want to be locked up anymore and denied their rights, and the Templars and Chantry refused to listen to them or see them as people. You didn't... puppeteer everyone into having a war!"
Leliana had thoughts to add too. "It is a very dangerous thing to believe that wars can always be prevented by 'compromise.' Sometimes, as the Inquisitor and I agreed on the way to Skyhold, compromise is wrong. And when one side sees that, it is off the table as an option. War is not always avoidable, nor should it be avoided, Lord Seeker. And peace is not always good. The peace of the Circle-Templar system was an unjust peace. Maintaining it would have continued that injustice. Sometimes war must be waged, because the alternative is to compromise with evil."
"And the evil was the Seekers' doing all along."
"No, it wasn't. There was no grand puppetmaster pulling the strings of each and every Seeker or Templar through the ages. Individual people made choices themselves through the years," Max said again. He turned to Cassandra. "This is ridiculous. It seems clear enough to me now what happened. He sounds like a cultist himself."
"He does," Cassandra said, deeply disappointed in Lucius. "Is that it, Lucius? You joined the Promisers because you think that their version of pretending to be 'puppetmaster of the world' is a just one and the Seekers' supposed conspiracy wasn't?"
Lucius grinned at her, but it was a bleak one. "We are abominations, Cassandra. That is the source of our power. Abominations and hypocrites. We created a decaying world, and fought to preserve it even as it crumbled." He rummaged with bloody fingers in his pack and withdrew an ancient tome. "See for yourself. The secrets of our order are all in here."
"Even if this is true, why ally yourself with Corypheus?" Cassandra insisted. "What did you hope to accomplish?"
"He is a monster with limited ambition, but he would have been useful. As it is, I have failed, so I must hope that you will see the truth. The book passes from one head of our order, Lord or Lady Seeker, to the next. Seems you're the last remaining, so it's yours now. Enjoy your reading."
And with that, he breathed out, a bubble of blood erupting from the corner of his lips, as he died.
Cassandra did read the tome, and she apparently was able to confirm that it was genuine. By that evening, she had requested a meeting with Varric, Cullen, Dorian, Leliana, and Max. Her expression was deeply troubled.
"Lucius was not lying about the contents of this book," she said without prelude. "We are abominations." She sank into her chair and put her hands around her temples, as if she had a headache. "We all know what the Rite of Tranquility is, of course. For a long time I had believed it a necessary evil."
"Evil is rarely necessary," Max said.
Cassandra nodded shamefacedly. "You are correct again. But so I thought, because I had been taught to think so—and in my youth, I personally witnessed and fought in a situation of magic run amok. But," she collected herself, "that is beside the point. As we know, what finally caused the Circles outside Ferelden and the Free Marches to join the war, and the Templars and Seekers who had been feigning loyalty to Justinia to show their true colors and rebel, was the discovery that Tranquility could be reversed."
"By restoring the touch of the Fade by means of a spirit," Max recalled from his interactions with Maddox and Anders.
Cassandra nodded again. "And that is what the Seekers do. We have always known—at least, the Lord or Lady Seeker, who reads this book, has always known how to reverse the Rite. When I think of the carnage at Adamant Fortress's experimental site, the peril of those present, because Divine Justinia herself was not permitted to know of this... because Lambert van Reeves kept it from Most Holy, the dirty traitor—" She broke off and heaved a breath. "This is all in the past. Seekers, it seems, undergo a ritual that makes us Tranquil. Then a Spirit of Faith is summoned to inhabit us and restore our connection to the Fade. It is why we are resistant to red lyrium, and it is how we have our abilities." She put her head in her hands again, covering her face. "I believed it to be the Maker."
Max tried to comfort her. "I... well, I never quite believed, but I had hoped for a time that my powers, what happened to me, was because of the intercession of Andraste. It wasn't. It too was a Spirit of Faith."
"The Chantry teaches that they are the Maker's first children," Dorian said. "Maybe they've been vilified for so long in other teachings that we've forgotten that and what it implies about them. They're virtues, Cassandra—good spirits. These Spirits of Faith in particular could be serving the Maker."
Cassandra gazed bleakly at him. "But why did they never reveal this to us? How could they have let us keep this from Most Holy herself all this time? Let us forget our duty to rein in the Templars? We did not cause the Mage-Templar War, but we did fail in our duty. And that raises all sorts of questions about these spirits. Some of them must have transformed to demons of Pride... I think it must certainly have happened with Lucius, for him to have believed what he did about his ability to influence the world... but those they inhabited never took on monstrous forms."
Max considered his words carefully before he spoke. "There's a reason Faith becomes Pride. So does Wisdom, apparently. Strong beliefs of one's own correctness, one's own virtue—this is already the next thing to pride. It's entirely possible that Faith, even if it doesn't become Pride, could be so certain in its own rightness that it doesn't even see its failure."
"That may be, but there is also the utter hypocrisy of it. We told ourselves that we created the Circles—that they were necessary—because of the danger of demonic possession to mages. All the while, we were possessed."
Varric took a deep breath. "I hate to be the one to say it, but faith often comes with hypocrisy too. You know that as well as I do."
Max expected Cassandra to strike Varric for this—correct observation though it was—but instead, to his shock and that of everyone else, she began silently crying.
Max exchanged uneasy looks with Dorian, Varric, and Leliana. Varric went to Cassandra to comfort her as well as he could, as the two men stood by and Leliana's breath caught rather painfully in her chest at the sights before her.
Varric—wry, witty, sarcastic, tough-as-nails Varric—was holding Cassandra and she was letting him. Even more than that, she was returning the embrace. It was clearly not entirely an embrace of one friend trying to comfort another, either. Max and Dorian could tell that very well.
How long have they danced around it? Max wondered. He had heard that Varric and Cassandra had had some sort of standing flirtation since before the Mage-Templar War. She had first visited Kirkwall shortly after one of the lead-up atrocities, the "Satinalia Massacre" in which a violent mob led by Samson and another early Red Templar tried to storm the Viscountess's Keep. Cassandra had been there to get the facts about the event and to bring word back to Divine Justinia about red lyrium. How long ago it seems that we were innocent about the existence of that, Max thought sadly. And yet not so long at all. That was late 9:36. A short time for such a foul substance to take root... and the weapons and tactics of warfare have evolved just as much since then, Maker's breath... but Cassandra and Varric apparently never openly became a couple in all this time. Six years, then. That's how long they danced around their feelings. Will it finally happen now?
But before he could dwell further on that, the—couple?—broke apart, and both turned back to him. Cassandra was the one to speak first, and her voice was heavy with sorrow and anger.
"I wanted to become a Seeker from a young age. I believed in the mission. I believed that we were necessary and just, a check to the power of Templars, for any organization granted extreme power over others is subject to corruption and abuse..." She trailed off as the import of her own words hit her. "I suppose I should have realized that it meant us too. But this is different!" she exclaimed hotly, fire returning to her words. "Lucius and those who follow him—a majority of the order—were traitors all along, trying to create chaos, and all this because he could not accept the fact that we have been touched by Spirits of Faith in our initiation ritual."
Varric was watching as she spoke, compassion written on his face. "Maybe he was just angry that the Chantry concealed it from him."
"I am sure that was a part of it, but it was not all." Cassandra let Varric embrace her lightly again. "Inquisitor. This Inquisition has planned a new way for the Templars. The mages won a new way of life for themselves before we ever were founded. The Chantry will move forward... war has changed... the geopolitical order of Thedas has changed and is changing more yet..."
"And you think that the Seekers must be dealt with too," Max finished.
"I... wanted them to have a role in this new world, to have a part in making it a better place... but all along, they—no, we," she amended ferociously, taking ownership of her part in it, "have either been ignoring egregious problems or actively making the situation worse! And Lucius's followers were doing so deliberately." She sighed. "I have been a Seeker for all of my adult life. It is hard to imagine myself as anything else. But after this, I do not know that the Seekers either deserve to keep existing, or would even have a role that they would fit in the new world."
Max didn't know what to say to that. In truth, he agreed with her about the "role" of the Seekers or lack thereof. They were meant originally to oversee the Templars, but time and corruption had made them into the protectors of the Templars even as the abuses in Circles got worse and worse. They had lost all connection to the mages that they were meant to protect by their arrangement. The revelation that they were possessed by Spirits of Faith—a fate that they had come to believe could only happen to a mage, another way of making mages seem "lesser" and "weak" in their minds—might not have been so horrifying if this had not occurred.
"I do think I understand what it's like to have been something for years and then suddenly—not to be," he said. "Twice, in fact. For much of my childhood I was a noble spare until, abruptly, I wasn't. Then I became a Circle mage—until, abruptly, I wasn't." He raised his eyebrows at her. "It may be time for you to do something different in your life as well, Cassandra."
She glanced almost accidentally at Varric—then quickly looked away. "I cannot ask you, Varric, to leave Kirkwall—to leave Hawke. She is unattainable, but so was your Bianca. Your heart binds itself to unattainable women—"
"Cassandra," Varric replied gruffly, "Hawke and I are lifelong friends. That's all we are. She has a family, a husband, and the two of them have a shitload on their plate, between the Free Mages, the city itself, the weapons, and the Vimmark-Minanter Treaty." He removed his arms from her shoulders and raised them in a questioning shrug. "What can I do to help them with mages, weapons of war, and defense alliances?"
"Plenty, it appears. You went to Kirkwall when the Inquisitor left Skyhold. I chose to stay behind, because I believed it my duty, and... you went to Kirkwall. To Hawke. Even though I know you are just her friend, you went at once to her side when it came to the choice."
"Maker, Cassandra—you interpreted that as choosing Hawke over you?"
This conversation was becoming very uncomfortable to everyone else, but Max did want to see if his input would be needed further.
Varric continued, "I went to Kirkwall to try to stop a pointless war. I wanted you to come along, but I'd never try to force you. It wasn't about choosing Hawke over you. It was about seeking peace." He gazed at her. "I didn't know it upset you that much, or I would've brought it up earlier. I'm sorry."
She actually accepted this apology at once, smiling weakly, but that did not last. The smile faded. "But Kirkwall..."
He sighed. "I do love Kirkwall, shithole that it is. Love it anyway. And who said anything about leaving it? I don't live there right now, do I? But that doesn't mean I can never go back."
Cassandra finally managed a smile. "We've been avoiding it—you, mostly,have been avoiding it, Varric—for six years. Let's face it now. Let us consider that future at last. It is time for me to seek something new in life."
Dorian, Max, and Leliana all burst into smiles.
Max's dreams were troubled that night, filled with rage and threats from an unseen force. Corypheus did not reveal himself openly in the Fade, but Max knew who was doing this to him. He had finished off the last of the Elder One's armies, after all.
And since mages were conscious in the Fade, there was only a moment's disorientation when Cullen woke him and Dorian up at night with the dire—but not at all unexpected—news that Corypheus was making an attack himself. His own hand gave proof of that fact; the Mark was shining sickly green.
Max trudged to the window. A green rift glimmered outside. Corypheus must have the elven orb, and Maker only knew whom he had sacrificed to do this—he did still have some followers—but the time had finally come.
"He's here, Inquisitor," Cullen warned as Max pulled on some light armor and his coat.
"Rainier and Felix are still here too," Dorian said.
The three men exchanged dark looks at that. "He probably knows," Max said in a low voice. "That's probably his plan: get me to kill him, or this body, so that he can possess one of my friends and rise again from the inside of the Inquisition."
"How will you fight that?" Cullen said. "Even if you know that's what he intends, what can you do about it?"
Max's mind was whirring. Elven legend says that Fen'Harel the Dread Wolf tricked the gods and then locked them away. That's not true for Mythal, but it may be true for the others. Maybe that is what the Black City is? Corypheus said it was already Tainted when he reached it, and that there were no gods that he could see. He wouldn't have believed in the Maker, but rather Dumat and his kin, but he didn't see them either. Could it be because the elven gods were locked away? Is the Black City really just the Fade-form of the city of Arlathan?
And is that what I must do to Corypheus himself?
Max somehow understood that he would have to do just that. Destroying the magister's body was a trap. Caitlyn Hawke and her party had fallen into it innocently, without the information to have known about the trap or the resources to have done anything differently. So had the Sentinels who had sacrificed themselves in vain at the Temple of Mythal. They didn't have a magical anchor that could open up rifts. They didn't have what he did.
In the end, it is just as I always knew and feared. I am the only one who can defeat Corypheus... and it was his own doing. Corypheus himself created his own worst enemy. He created the only one who could defeat him.
He turned back to Cullen at last. "I have a plan. If my theory is right, I can stop Corypheus from coming back."
"Let's hope so, then."
They passed Morrigan on the way down. She was donning dragonskin armor over her clothes. "You are awake. Good. He has brought his dragon too, but I intend to fight it."