They were closing in on the temple. Amaryllis knew this by the pulsing of the air: the way it surged, swept through her, wormed its way through her veins-a crackling static that raised the hairs on her arms pin straight. It tasted of grass and earthworms-petrichor, dust upon stone, and the sweet prickle of electricity. It tasted the way the air smelled before it rained.
And then it did. The rain fell in a sudden, raging downpour that pelted at her back and streamed down her brow. Amaryllis pushed her wet hair back. She wiped at her cheeks, and shivered. Her skin was ice. Normally she would have thrown up a barrier to keep herself dry, but she had run out of mana long before this, and barely had enough lyrium to last another fight.
Water filled her boots. Her feet had become so numb from the cold that she felt as if one wrong step would cause them to snap off at the ankles. She wanted to sigh, to feel sorry for herself, and a quick look around assured her that she wasn't alone in this. Then, they crested the hill before the temple. The entrance still stood, somehow, towering above what remained of its halls and the people that had once walked them. And Amaryllis found that she no longer cared about her feet.
The open gates led to a drop into the basin where bodies, new and old, lay beneath the foul virescence of yet another seething rift. All at once the soldiers froze. Waiting. Together they watched as the rift shifted, crackling, rolling the same as the storm clouds in the sky above. But Amaryllis found her gaze shifting toward the Commander. He stood at the front, his eyes trained to the rift, to where it struck the ground as if it were waiting, too.
He turned swiftly to face his troops. She could see the bags beneath his eyes, the way his skin had paled in his exhaustion. He began to speak.
"The end of your fight is just over that ridge," he said, lifting an arm to point ahead of the rift to where the light of the breach shown the brightest-to where it disappeared behind ruins and tall, jagged rocks glowing red. "Are you going to stop now, with it so near at hand? Move!"
Many reached for their swords. At Amaryllis' side, Emil did the same-his sword made a sharp scraping noise as it was unsheathed. Amaryllis could hear her heart thumping inside her temples as she gripped her staff tighter beneath her aching fingers. The muscles in her forearm twinged with overuse. She yearned to sit down, to relieve the throbbing in her calves and sore heels.
Instead she took a deep breath and lifted her staff high in the air, just as the rift twisted and struck the ground again. Demons rose from the scorched stone. The chill of winter lapped at her palms; it shifted up, into her fingers, rising through her feet and into her very core, encasing her in its icy embrace.
The Commander turned to face the rift, took his sword in hand, his shield in the other, and charged.
Amaryllis flung herself into action. She slammed the base of her staff into the dirt, willing the frost in her fingers out through her fingertips; it shot forward, surrounding a Shade in ice. Emil rushed toward it with his sword raised and cut it down in one swift motion. He nodded in her direction, flashing Amaryllis a quick smile, and ran to the aid of another soldier.
But where one demon fell, another took its place. It wasn't long before Amaryllis was shaking in her boots, unable to take even one more step, trying to will away the tunneling of her vision as her exhaustion threatened to overtake her. Yet the fight continued on.
A scream rang out-enough to get her moving again, though her hands had gone numb. Amaryllis fumbled with her bag, ripping through its contents to pull out what was left of her lyrium. She popped the cork and tilted her head back, dumping the potion into her mouth. She sucked at the opening in an attempt to get every last drop. A metallic taste like battery acid clung to the insides of her cheeks. It somehow soothed the burning in her throat and allowed her to stand taller and breathe a small sigh of relief. Her legs no longer trembled with fatigue.
Amaryllis darted forward and threw her arm out, covering the fallen archer with a barrier. It shot from her fingertips in sparks that spread through the air, creating a golden dome that seemed to pulse brighter with every flicker of the breach above. Another flick of her hand and the Terror demon that had attacked the archer disintegrated.
The barrier quivered as she approached, peeling open at one side to allow Amaryllis in. She crouched beside the archer, watched her for a moment where she lay crumpled on her side, pressed two fingers against her blood-slick neck, and took in the woman's injuries. The flesh of her side had torn open, exposing her ribcage. In between bone and shredded muscle, Amaryllis could see the woman's heart, illuminated by the violent glare of the rift. Her entire body shook so roughly that she couldn't be sure if the woman's heart was still beating, or if it had already grown still.
With bated breath, Amaryllis waited. And waited. Closed her teary eyes tightly against the realization that she had been late, yet again. She opened them and stood, letting the barrier fall gently. It fluttered away like a blanket caught in the wind, though it hissed like the tearing of parchment.
You did well, she wanted to say, I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry I failed you, too. But her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and her breath caught in her throat.
Panic gripped her suddenly. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest, throwing itself against her sternum as if it were trying to break free. It was all too much. Her gaze moved across the battlefield and in a daze she saw them: bodies strewn across the ground and bodies raising their weapons against the evil that plagued them. No, not bodies. People. People that had lived, and people that still lived. Real people. People that were fighting for their lives, for their villages, for the world. For their families.
And there Amaryllis stood, watching them fall. Watching them cry out as they struck the demons preying upon them. Watching Emil continue to slash at Shades, one after the other, though his steps began to falter, and his arms shook with the weight of his sword.
What am I doing? Move, Amaryllis. Move.
Another scream, and the sound of steel scraping across stone. Blood beneath her feet. Another man she couldn't save.
Fenedhis.
Fur flashed before her. A growl from bared, bloodied fangs that pierced flesh with a horrifying crunch. A gurgling gasp for air and skin curled back like the peel of a rotting apple.
No, no, no. Goddamn it, Amaryllis, stop. Move.
Sliding, skating, the feeling of taking flight-weightless and free. Falling. Falling. Frozen toes. Hands numb and grasping, skidding against glass and slipping through loose fingers that had once been entangled with her own and-
Amaryllis felt nothing, yet somehow she still gripped her staff. Her ears rang. Her wind-bitten cheeks stayed dry. Her heart was still. She felt as if she could close her eyes to the world around her, and she would cease to exist. But something inside of her pushed against it, refusing to back down. It pried her eyelids open when she tried to close them, forced her to flex her fingers at her side, to run her hand against the fabric of her first gift from Babae where it was tied around her waist.
A deafening war cry rang out. The thing inside of her turned her head to the sound. Amaryllis watched as the Commander used his shield to absorb the blow of the Rage demon that struck him. No. She watched as a Terror demon rose from the ground behind him, black as the void-watched as its gaping maw and serrated fangs closed in. No, no, no, no, Amaryllis wanted to cry out. She stood and watched as the Rage demon puffed itself up as if it were preparing to burst into a bright, blazing inferno. All she could see was Akasha, sighing at her computer screen. Akasha, doodling his name in the margins of her notebook. Akasha, and her fictional love-who was real, and standing before her, about to die.
Amaryllis, the thing inside of her spoke. Its touch was like a warm kiss upon her cheeks. It took her hand in its own, squeezed it with tender reassurance. You must move, Amaryllis. Help them. Help him.
So she did. With all of her might she swung her staff up and around her, felt the muscles of her arms tense in protest, the way her blood sang. Her heartbeat became all she could hear in that moment, rapid, yet steady-unwavering.
Out of the tip of her staff shot her desire to protect: a shimmering golden glow that refracted the breachlight in a symphony of color. In an instant it formed around Cullen like a second skin. When the Rage demon erupted, and its fire struck the Commander, he stood untouched. He took up his shield with a look of great determination and rushed forward, slamming into the creature, forcing it back. As it seemed to stumble he struck with his sword, wildly ripping into its torso until ichor as black as the Void bubbled out, sizzling as it scorched the earth below.
He swung to the right. The movement pulled his sword free, slinging blood through the air. Another quick slash and the Terror demon screeched and dissolved into a green thread that spiraled up into the rift-the image had grown so familiar at this point that it no longer surprised Amaryllis.
Cullen's eyes were bright and blazing with the thrill of battle when he turned to face her, though his expression was, yet again, unrecognizable. She wondered briefly why Cullen Stanton Rutherford of all people seemed so impossible to read, when her vision began to tunnel.
Between one blink and the next Amaryllis found herself on her back, staring up at the breach, along with the worried face of her new friend.
"Ye alright there, miss?" Emil asked.
"Fine," she murmured back. She made no move to stand-instead continued glaring into the hole in the clouds as if it might be cowed by her gaze enough to mend itself. "Why am I on the ground?"
"Ye dropped like a sack'a potatas. Almost hit yer head off this rock," he said, slapping said rock. "Sure yer fine? Yer lookin' mighty pale."
Amaryllis pushed up onto her elbows and realized that she, in fact, was not fine. Her vision swam and her stomach roiled, twisting so horribly that she had to quickly turn her head to keep its contents. Emil came closer and put his arm lightly around her back, propping her up against him.
"You shouldn't have done that," a gruff voice spoke from above. "You used too much mana where you had none. Do you understand how dangerous that is? You could have died, and for what?"
Amaryllis froze and clamped her eyes shut, refusing to look up. She didn't think she could without subsequently blacking out again.
Yes, she thought. I know. I know. But I couldn't stand by and watch another person die. I couldn't stand by and watch you die.
Instead of answering she lowered her head, curled further into herself, and said nothing at all.
There was a shuffling beside her, the clanging of metal against metal, a gentle tap at her shoulder. It took all of her might to peel one eye open, to see the Commander pushing a potion into her hand. It was half full-just a few sips and it'd be gone. She blinked, and despite the throbbing of her skull telling her to do anything but, turned to face him in question.
Crouched beside her, Amaryllis could see the tense set of his shoulders, the wrinkle between his brows, the intensity of the purple bags beneath his eyes, and the sweat that plastered his slightly curling hair to his forehead.
"Drink," Cullen said. His voice was softer this time-heavy with weariness, but kinder than before. "You need it, after maintaining such a barrier, and with so little strength." His gaze flickered down toward his boots, then back up to her own. "I... thank you."
She took the offered vial and drank just enough to wet her mouth. The moment it touched her throat she felt a small rush of energy run through her, infinitesimal in reality, but enough to placate the ache inside her head, for now. Amaryllis glanced back up at Cullen, saw he had begun to stand, and moved to give the potion back.
As she took his hand in hers he looked down at her in puzzlement, then gently pulled his fingers from her grasp. "No, the potion is for you. Drink it."
She wanted to thank him, wanted to tell him everything, suddenly, but she was too unsure of what to say. Afraid of how her words might stumble from between her clumsy lips, she said nothing at all. Nodded and let go of his hand and turned away before their eyes could meet once more. She turned to Emil instead, offered him the vial too, but he pushed it away, acting scandalized.
"Commander's orders, m'lady," he said with a smile. "Drink it all up and try not to pass out again, eh?"
Amaryllis looked at the vial again, hesitating for a moment. It felt wrong to be taking the lyrium for herself, when there were others that needed it too, possibly more than she did. But she thought of Cullen, and of Emil, and of the people that needed her. Of the person she had promised to protect, always.
She lifted the potion to her lips, and drank it down.
The rift pulsed again, striking black lightning at the ground before them, a resounding boom.
Emil took the hilt of his sword. Cullen placed his shield before him, his jaw set and ready. Those who were left did the same.
Amaryllis dug her staff into the ground and pulled herself standing. The rift twisted, flaring to life, and from its ooze rose another Rage demon. Another Terror demon. Another Shade. More and more, until they filled the area, along with the sounds of yet another battle.
She gripped her staff tightly, spread the fingers of her left hand and felt the magic shifting beneath her skin. She called forth lightning, one of the only storm magic spells she felt confident enough to use. It zipped up to her fingers, spreading heat across her palm. Amaryllis took a deep breath and held it, pushed all of her weight into her feet while pulling at the energy inside of her. Static flashed around her staff, connecting to her fingers. Her hair stood on end.
Amaryllis grit her teeth as the static pulled at her hand, leaned into the power that took her breath away and turned it into thunder. A Rage demon rose, advanced toward her, gliding across the stone leaving scorch marks in its wake, and she waited. Waited for the moment to strike, when the demons were aligned and her spell would take them all.
Until fire rained from above.
Fireballs struck the Rage demon, forcing it back. It screeched, attempted to rise and strike at what it couldn't see, but fell to the attack, and burst into ashes. Amaryllis felt her own spell die between her fingers, putting air back into her lungs, and her heart began to beat double time.
Her hand fell to her chest and she waited for a moment, just one moment, to feel the way her heart thrashed behind her ribcage, begging to be let free, to rush to the gates of the temple behind them where Ellana stood smiling down at her sister.
A/N: So I wanted to add that I've begun another story full of scenes from Akasha's POV because *spoiler alert* yes, she's alive too lol I couldn't keep it to myself any longer. Sorry guys!
As always, you can find this story, and others on AO3 under the pen name ar_lath_ma. You can also find me at discord in the Dragon Age Fanfiction server. We're on disboard, if you'd like to join us.