CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Redcliffe
The world around Alex shimmered, shifting between familiar shapes and an eerie haze of light and shadow. He stood in a dreamscape that felt impossibly vast yet strangely intimate. The air was thick with a surreal stillness, pierced only by the faint echo of voices he couldn't quite make out. The landscape was a strange amalgamation of Earth and Thedas: skyscrapers jutting into the sky alongside crumbling castle towers, and streets filled with cars that faded into cobblestone pathways.
His last memory struck him like a hammer—fighting the darkspawn, the desperation, the final surge of power. He remembered plunging his sword into the ground, unleashing everything he had to create that massive wall of ice. Then, there was Solona's face, pale with worry as she ran toward him, her voice screaming his name. After that, darkness.
Alex took a deep breath, looking around. Was he dead? No, he was probably passed out. Had his comrades fallen? Had the defenders been slaughtered after he collapsed? The questions clawed at him, and he clenched his fists, feeling powerless.
"Alex," came a calm, familiar voice.
He turned to see Knowledge, the spirit he had come to know over the years. The spirit's form was fluid, shifting between a scholarly figure in flowing robes and a shimmering orb of light. Its presence was reassuring, but there was an undercurrent of something else—disapproval?
"Knowledge," Alex said, his voice betraying his relief. "It's good to see you. What happened? After I fell, did the others survive? Did we hold the line"
The spirit's form shifted again, the edges of its light flickering. "Your companions live, thanks to your efforts. The defenders regrouped in the wake of your elemental outburst. The ice wall you conjured bought precious time for their retreat. But you paid a steep price for your heroism."
Alex nodded slowly, the weight of his actions settling on him. "I had no choice. We were losing. I couldn't let them die."
Knowledge floated closer; its presence warm but firm. "You acted with courage, but also recklessness. You poured too much of yourself into that spell. Had you pushed any further, your body would have burned out completely. You are fortunate to still draw breath."
"Fortunate?" Alex barked a bitter laugh. "I nearly died, and I still don't even know how I did it. That power—I didn't even know I had it. I just... reacted."
The spirit's light dimmed briefly, as if considering his words. "What you achieved was extraordinary. The Fade bent to your will in a way few mortals can accomplish. Your desperation, your determination—they gave shape to your magic. But such power is a double-edged sword, Alex. It has not gone unnoticed."
Alex frowned. "Noticed by who? Or... what?"
"Spirits and Demons," Knowledge said, its voice tinged with warning. "They are drawn to power like moths to a flame. You have made yourself a beacon, Alex. More will come, seeking to claim what is yours. You must be vigilant. You must grow stronger. And you must learn control."
Alex let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. "How? How do I control something I barely understand? I thought I had mastered my abilities, but now I have more power to deal with."
Knowledge's form solidified into the shape of a robed figure; its hand outstretched toward him. "With time, practice, and discipline. Each night, when you rest, we will work together here in the Fade, as we have done in the past. I will help you hone your new abilities and fortify your defenses. But you must commit yourself fully, Alex. There is no room for hesitation in the battles to come."
Alex looked at the spirit, determination hardening his expression. "I'll do whatever it takes. I won't let anyone die because I wasn't strong enough."
Knowledge inclined its head. "Good. Then let us begin."
They spoke for a while longer, Knowledge explaining the dangers Alex would possibly face, and the new training regimen. When the conversation began to wane, the spirit's form started to flicker.
"It is time for you to return, Alex. The waking world calls."
The dreamscape began to fade, the landscape dissolving into a swirl of light. Alex's body felt heavy, his senses sluggish as the real world slowly came into focus.
When Alex woke, he was lying in a wooden carriage, the rhythmic creaking of the wheels and the sound of horses' hooves filling his ears. He blinked against the sunlight streaming through a small window, his body aching all over.
Odd trinkets and objects cluttered the interior of the carriage—charms, vials, and strange artifacts, weapons, shields, dangling from hooks or tucked into shelves. The scent of herbs and incense filled the air, and a warm weight pressed against his feet. Looking down, he saw Tank curled up, his mabari snoring softly.
Alex sat upright, his body aching with every movement, but he forced himself to adjust. The first thing he noticed was Solona's wide, tear-brimmed eyes fixed on him. She was kneeling beside him, her expression a mixture of relief and irritation.
"Alex, you're awake! How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
Alex blinked at her, trying to focus. His body felt like it had been through a meat grinder. "Like I got hit by a truck."
Her brow furrowed in confusion. "A... truck? What's a truck?"
Alex chuckled weakly, waving a hand. "I'll explain it some other time. It's a... thing from where I'm from."
Before she could press further, a familiar weight pounced on him. Tank, his loyal mabari, was licking his face furiously, his tail wagging with unrestrained joy.
"Tank! Okay, okay, I'm glad to see you too, buddy," Alex said with a grin, scratching behind the mabari's ears. "I'm okay. I promise."
Tank let out a satisfied bark, nuzzling his master's cheek before sitting at Alex's side protectively. The carriage slowed to a halt, and Alex heard voices outside. Moments later, the others appeared at the carriage door, a mix of worry and exasperation on their faces.
"Look who finally decided to rejoin us," Alistair said, his tone light but his eyes betraying his relief. "We were starting to think you'd sleep through the rest of the Blight."
"Yeah, because this group would totally be fine without me," Alex quipped, smirking despite his exhaustion.
Elissa Cousland stepped up next, her lips pressed into a thin line. Without warning, she punched him lightly in the arm, making him wince.
"That was reckless, Alex," she said, her voice sharp but tinged with concern. "You scared the life out of us. But... at least your gamble worked."
Alex rubbed his arm, managing a sheepish grin. "All I remember doing is unleashing everything I had to create that wall of ice, then I blacked out."
Morrigan crossed her arms, her golden eyes narrowing as she leaned against the carriage frame. "That's because you nearly burned yourself out, fool. Do you even comprehend the magnitude of what you did? After consuming that lyrium potion, you summoned a spell so powerful it created a massive wall of ice and stone, thick and unyielding. It separated the darkspawn from the defenders of Lothering. Impressive, yes, but not without cost."
"Cost?" Alex asked, frowning.
Morrigan's lips curled into a smirk, but there was no malice in her expression—only a hint of respect. "Your sword, Alex. It could not withstand the energy you poured into it. It melted into slag in your hands. Even a staff would have cracked from the output of magic you displayed."
The words hit Alex like a punch to the gut. His red steel sword—the first real weapon he had received in this world, a gift from the Couslands—was gone. It had been more than a tool; it had been a symbol of his journey, a connection to the family that had taken him in. Losing it felt like losing a piece of himself.
"Damn..." he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "That sword's been with me since the beginning. It saved my life more times than I can count."
Elissa placed a hand on his shoulder, her expression softening. "We'll find you another. Something worthy of your skill—and your recklessness."
Alex forced a small smile but remained silent, the weight of the loss settling in his chest.
"The spell bought us time," Lynna continued. "With the darkspawn walled off, the defenders and refugees were able to flee. Our mission was complete, so we took the opportunity to retreat."
"Did... did we lose anyone?" Alex asked, his voice hesitant.
Alistair's expression darkened. "About a quarter of the defenders didn't make it. But the rest—most of them—escaped to Crestwood. The Templars who stayed behind, about twenty-seven of them, decided to follow us. They're headed to Redcliffe with us."
Alex's heart sank at the mention of the casualties. A quarter of the defenders. Dozens of lives lost. Men and women who had trusted him, who had fought under his command. He clenched his fists, his knuckles white.
"A quarter..." he repeated softly. "That's too many. They trusted me, and I couldn't—"
Elissa cut him off, her voice firm. "Stop that, Alex. You saved everyone else. Without you, there wouldn't have been anyone left to escape. Those people died fighting for something greater than themselves. Honor their sacrifice by moving forward."
Alex swallowed hard, nodding. "You're right. I'll fight to honor them. To make sure their deaths weren't in vain."
The group fell silent for a moment, the weight of their losses hanging heavy in the air. Then Alex straightened, determination burning in his eyes.
"What's next? Redcliffe?"
Alistair nodded. "Yeah. We need to figure out what's going on there. And with Arl Eamon sick, we'll probably have our hands full."
Alex took a deep breath, bracing himself for the road ahead. "Then let's get moving. We've got work to do."
The others exchanged glances, a mixture of respect and admiration in their eyes, before stepping aside to let Alex climb down from the carriage. As he stood on solid ground, Tank by his side and his companions around him, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. There was still much to fight for, and he wasn't about to let the Blight win.
The campfire crackled gently, its light flickering across the canvas of tents and makeshift shelters set up along the crossroads in the Hinterlands. The tension of their escape had started to ease, but an undercurrent of unease lingered among the wardens, companions, and the Templars who had joined them.
Alex adjusted the straps of his armor, wincing at the soreness in his muscles. Despite his exhaustion, he couldn't ignore the stares. Templars standing guard exchanged glances as he passed, their expressions a mix of reverence and apprehension. It wasn't hard to see why—they had witnessed him unleash something extraordinary and terrifying in equal measure.
Commander Bryant, a seasoned Templar with greying hair and a scar running down his jawline, approached Alex near the edge of camp. His posture was stiff, his armor polished but dented in places, a testament to his years in battle. He nodded respectfully before speaking.
"Warden Commander Alex, a word, if you don't mind?"
Alex turned, surprised by the formality in the man's tone. "Of course, Commander. What's on your mind?"
Bryant exhaled deeply, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as if for reassurance. "I've been fighting for the Maker's cause for decades. I've seen mages cast firestorms and ice walls, witnessed abominations tearing through the faithful. But I've never seen anything like what you did back there. It was... otherworldly."
Alex shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. "I just did what I thought was necessary to protect everyone. It wasn't... planned."
Bryant's eyes narrowed, studying Alex intently. "Be that as it may, what you did turned the tide. I thank the Maker you're on our side. I shudder to think what would happen if someone like you fell into the wrong hands."
Alex let out a dry laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Trust me, Commander, I'm not planning to go rogue anytime soon. The Blight's enough of a nightmare without adding more problems to it."
Bryant nodded, but his expression remained serious. "You've earned the respect of my men. But you've also sparked something else. They're watching you, Warden. Some with admiration, others with fear. Power like yours... it's not something they can easily reconcile. You should be cautious."
Alex's gaze drifted toward the Templars near the campfire. Their armor gleamed in the firelight, but their eyes betrayed uncertainty. He could feel it—the weight of their judgment. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to meet Bryant's gaze.
"I'm not here to be feared, Commander. I just want to help. If my power can make a difference, I'll use it. But I know what it's like to be judged for something you didn't choose. I won't let it define me."
Bryant's expression softened, and for a moment, the hardened Templar seemed almost human. "Spoken like a true Warden. You have my respect, Alex. And my promise. My men and I will assist however we can. If there's a chance to save Arl Eamon and bolster our efforts against the Blight, we'll stand with you."
Alex extended a hand, and Bryant hesitated briefly before grasping it in a firm shake. "Thank you, Commander. We might need all the help we can get. If the rumors are true and Arl Eamon's condition is as dire as they say, we're walking into a mess."
Bryant nodded grimly. "Mess or not, it's our duty. And from what I've seen, you're the kind of leader people will follow through it."
The campfire flickered, casting warm, dancing shadows over the encampment. The mingling sounds of low chatter, the occasional clink of armor, and the distant rustle of leaves filled the air. Alex sat by the fire, his fingers idly tracing patterns on the edge of his tunic. He was still mulling over his conversation with Commander Bryant. The Templar's gratitude and awe lingered in his mind, but so did the fear in the eyes of the other Templars. The power he had displayed at Lothering had clearly left an impression—and not all of it was positive.
As Alex stared into the flames, Morrigan appeared from the shadows, her golden eyes glinting in the firelight. She moved with the grace of a predator, her tone casual but her words pointed.
"Warden," she began, folding her arms across her chest. "Pray tell, where did that power come from? I know my potion was potent, but for it to cause such a reaction… Would you care to enlighten me as to how you managed such a feat?"
Alex met her gaze, his expression unreadable. "I don't know exactly," he admitted. "I just… channeled all the energy I could muster into my blade. After that, everything's a blur."
Morrigan arched an elegant brow, her curiosity only deepening. "Interesting. Such raw potential... and yet so reckless. I wonder what you might achieve if you were properly honed." Her lips curved into a sly smile. "Perhaps we should train together sometime, yes? I would like to see just how powerful you truly are., and maybe you could learn something new."
Alex gave her a wry grin. "You just want to test your limits against me."
Morrigan's smile widened. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I simply enjoy watching you struggle to keep up."
He chuckled, shaking his head as Morrigan turned and disappeared into the shadows once more.
Standing, Alex dusted off his hands and looked around the camp. His eyes landed on Solona, who sat a short distance away, tending to her staff. Her light blonde hair caught the firelight, framing her face in soft golden hues. Steeling himself, he walked over.
She glanced up at his approach, and her face lit up with a smile. "Well, if it isn't our fearless leader," she teased, standing to meet him. "How are you holding up, handsome?"
"I'm fine," Alex replied, his tone softening. "Thanks to you and the others. And, uh, for what it's worth, I'm sorry for worrying you."
Her smile wavered for a moment, replaced by something more genuine. "I was worried," she admitted. "When you passed out, I… I thought we might lose you. But I should've known better. You're too stubborn to die."
Alex laughed, but his expression grew more serious. "Solona… about the kiss…"
The words barely left his lips before all of Solona's confidence melted away. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and she suddenly looked like a nervous teenager caught sneaking out past curfew.
"I—" she stammered, her voice uncharacteristically small. "I thought it was a good idea at the time. You know, with the whole 'we might die any second' thing. I didn't want to leave this world with regrets."
"So, it was just… a spur-of-the-moment thing?" Alex asked, his heart sinking.
She nodded hesitantly, unable to meet his eyes. "Yes. Just me being silly, I guess."
Alex swallowed hard, forcing a smile he didn't quite feel. "I understand."
He turned to leave, but her hand shot out, grabbing his arm. "Alex, wait!" she said, her voice panicked. She hesitated, grappling with her thoughts before blurting, "Maker's breath, why does this have to be so hard?"
Alex stepped closer; his brow furrowed in concern. "What's hard, Solona?"
"You," she said, exasperated. "Talking to you."
Her eyes softened, and she let out a shaky sigh. "The truth is… I've started to have feelings for you. And I've been trying to ignore them because we're both Wardens, and we have so much to do, but after Ostagar… After everything we've been through… I just can't anymore."
For a moment, Alex was speechless. Her words struck him like a hammer to the chest. When he didn't immediately respond, Solona's eyes widened in panic.
"I-it's fine if you don't feel the same," she stammered. "I mean, we can just stay friends. Really, I'm fine with—"
"I do care for you," Alex interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. "More than I can even explain. I've been hiding it for the same reasons you have, but… I guess I'm not as fearless as you thought."
Her eyes glimmered with a mix of relief and joy. She punched his shoulder lightly, her flirtatious grin returning. "Well, you should've said something sooner, oh not so fearless made me say all that embarrassing stuff."
Alex smirked. "Well, I thought it was cute seeing you blush for once."
"Oh, I'm going to make you pay for that, Alexander," Solona whispered, stepping closer.
Their lips met, and the world seemed to fall away. The kiss was slow and filled with all the emotions they had kept bottled up for so long. When they finally broke apart, Solona's cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled.
"Wow," she said, breathless. "That was worth everything, even embarrassing myself."
Alex smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "So… what now? Are we together, or was this a one-time thing?"
"That depends on you, Hero. What do you want?" she asked, her tone teasing but her eyes searching his.
"I want us to be together," he said without hesitation.
Her grin widened. "Good. But just so you know, I'm really clingy and needy."
Alex laughed, stealing another quick kiss. "I think I can handle you."
"You say that now," she whispered, leaning into him.
As they sat there, wrapped in each other's warmth, Solona murmured softly, "This… this is the happiest I've ever been, since the circle."
Alex held her close, his voice equally soft. "Me too."
A few hours had gone by, the evening air was crisp as Alex walked through the camp, his boots crunching softly against the dirt and grass. The camp was alive with activity—wardens and their companions tending to their gear, sharing quiet conversations, and preparing for the journey ahead. Fires flickered, casting warm glows across the faces of those gathered around them. Alex nodded politely to those who greeted him, his mind still processing everything that had happened in the past days.
Near one of the smaller fires, Elissa waved him over, a bright smile lighting her face. Beside her stood two dwarves—a stout, bearded older one with a jovial demeanor and a younger one with wide, curious eyes and a perpetual grin.
"Alex," Elissa began warmly, "I want you to meet Bodahn and Sandal Feddic. We helped them during the escape from Lothering. It was their cart that carried you while you were unconscious."
Alex extended his hand toward the elder dwarf. "Bodahn, thank you. I'm in your debt."
Bodahn shook his hand firmly, his grip surprisingly strong. "Oh, no need for that, ser! It was the least we could do, what with the chaos and all. Figured if we were to get out alive, we'd do so together."
His voice was rich with a dwarven accent, and Alex found himself smiling at the dwarf's easygoing nature. Alex's gaze shifted to the younger dwarf, who stood quietly beside Bodahn, examining a rock with intense focus.
"And this is Sandal," Bodahn said, patting the younger dwarf on the shoulder. Sandal looked up and grinned widely.
"Hello!" Sandal said brightly. "Enchantment!"
Alex chuckled, charmed by the boy's enthusiasm. "It's nice to meet you, Sandal."
Sandal nodded and returned his attention to the rock, turning it over as though it held some grand secret.
Alex turned back to Bodahn. "If you don't mind me asking, what's your story? How did you and Sandal end up traveling together?"
Bodahn's expression softened as he began his tale. "Ah, well, it's a bit of a tale, that one. I've always been a merchant, you see. Not much for the grand halls of Orzammar—too much politics and backstabbing for my liking. So, I started collecting wares from abandoned thaigs, places the darkspawn had cleared out but hadn't fully taken over yet. Dangerous work, but it pays well if you've got a keen eye."
He paused, his gaze drifting to Sandal. "It was during one of those expeditions that I found him. He was just a wee lad, left all alone in an ancient thaig. No sign of his parents or anyone else. Couldn't bring myself to leave him there, so I took him in."
"That was kind of you," Alex said sincerely. "Have you ever found any trace of his parents?"
Bodahn shook his head. "Not a one. But I tell you, it's been a blessing in disguise. Sandal here, he's got a gift. When it comes to enchanting, there's none better. Better than the Tranquil, even. He can do things with runes that most folks can only dream of."
Alex glanced at Sandal, who was now drawing shapes in the dirt with a stick. "He's remarkable," Alex said softly, recognizing the boy's unique mannerisms. "You've done well by him."
Bodahn beamed at the praise. "Aye, he's a good lad. Always eager to help. Speaking of which—if you're in need of a weapon, ser, we might have something that'll suit you. Lost yours, did you?"
Alex nodded. "I did. I've been making do, but I could use something reliable."
Bodahn moved to the cart and rummaged through it before pulling out a longsword. The blade gleamed silver and black in the firelight, with a tapered guard that flowed into an ornate hilt. The symbol of the Chantry—a radiant sun—was etched into the pommel.
"This beauty might do the trick," Bodahn said, offering it to Alex. But before Alex could take it, Sandal darted forward, his eyes alight.
"Enchantment!" Sandal declared, snatching the sword from Bodahn's hands.
Bodahn chuckled. "Ah, best let him have his fun. When he gets like this, there's no stopping him."
Alex watched as Sandal carried the sword to a small workstation set up near the cart. The younger dwarf worked with astonishing speed and precision, his hands moving in practiced motions as he affixed runes to the blade. The camp seemed to fall away as Alex observed the process, marveling at the boy's skill.
After a few minutes, Sandal returned, holding the sword aloft. "Enchantment!" he announced proudly, handing the weapon to Alex.
Alex took the sword and felt a subtle hum of energy coursing through it. The runes glowed faintly, and as he gripped the hilt, he could sense the enchantments enhancing his connection to the Fade. The sword felt perfectly balanced, almost like an extension of himself.
"Thank you, Sandal," Alex said sincerely. "This is incredible."
Sandal grinned. "You're welcome!"
Bodahn clapped Alex on the back. "Told you he's got a gift. That sword'll serve you well."
Alex nodded, already thinking about the possibilities. "It's more than I could've asked for. I think Sandal might be a genius."
Bodahn laughed heartily. "Aye, that he is. A bit of an odd one, but genius often is, eh?"
Alex smiled, already considering ways to collaborate with the boy. Perhaps together, they could create something truly groundbreaking. But for now, the sword in his hand was enough—a symbol of the unlikely alliances and friendships that were forming in the shadow of the Blight.
The early morning sun painted the horizon in muted shades of gold and pink as Alex and his companions marched toward Redcliffe. The path wound through rolling hills and dense woods, the village gradually coming into view. Its idyllic charm was overshadowed by an air of dread; smoke hung heavy in the sky, and the faint cries of despair carried on the wind.
As they neared the village outskirts, a scout sprinted toward them, his face pale and drawn. His tattered armor and bloodied tunic told a grim story. He stopped before the group, his breaths ragged.
"Praise the Maker," the scout gasped. "Are you here to fight the undead?"
Alex's eyes narrowed, and he exchanged a quick glance with Alistair and Commander Bryant. Bryant's voice was firm but laced with confusion. "What in the blazes do you mean, undead?"
The scout shivered; the memory of terror visible in his eyes. "For the past few nights, corpses from the castle have risen. They come down from the hills after dark and attack us—killing or dragging people off. Every night they come, and every night there are fewer of us. Please, you must help us!"
Bryant cursed under his breath, running a gauntleted hand through his hair. "Maker's breath," he muttered. He turned to Alex, his expression grim. "Warden, this reek of dark magic. A demon, or perhaps an abomination. Do you think this has anything to do with Arl Eamon's illness?"
Alex frowned in thought. "It's possible. If dark magic is at play, the sickness could be a symptom—or even part of a larger plan. There's only one way to know for sure."
Bryant nodded. "Then we go into the village and face this head-on. If a demon is behind this, we'll put it down."
The group pressed forward, moving into the heart of the village. Villagers peered out from behind boarded windows, their faces pale with fear. The few brave enough to stand in the open held makeshift weapons—pitchforks, hatchets, and rusted swords. Their eyes lit up with hope at the sight of the approaching company.
As the group prepared to meet with the village leader, Alistair called out softly, gathering the Wardens around him. "Before we go any further, I need to tell you all something," he began, his tone uncharacteristically serious.
Alex folded his arms, curiosity piqued. "What is it, Alistair?"
Alistair's eyes flicked to Elissa. "Elissa already knows part of this, but it's time you all knew the truth. I told you that I grew up here in Redcliffe, and that Arl Eamon raised me. That's true, but not the whole story." He hesitated, his eyes searching Elissa's face for reassurance. She nodded encouragingly.
"Elissa," he said, his voice quieter, "do you remember what I told you about my upbringing?"
She tilted her head slightly, a knowing smile forming. "I do. Arl Eamon is your father, isn't he?"
Alistair chuckled, though the sound was strained. "Heavens, no. You're close, though. The reason he took me in was because..." He paused, gathering his courage. "Because my father was King Maric."
The revelation hung in the air like a thunderclap. Solona's eyes widened in shock, and she nearly dropped her staff. "Wait, WHAT?!"
Lynna glanced at Alex, her expression a mixture of confusion and intrigue. Elissa, however, remained calm, her gaze steady on Alistair. "I suppose that explains it," she said softly. "I can see the resemblance between you and Cailan now."
The other Wardens murmured in agreement, nodding as they scrutinized Alistair's features in a new light.
Alex stepped forward; his voice measured. "Alistair, you should have told us sooner. But no matter—you've told us now." He regarded the man carefully. "This means you're next in line for the throne, doesn't it? Cailan didn't have any children."
Alistair shook his head vehemently. "No. No, no, no. I don't want the throne, I never wanted it, all my life, I was told I wasn't worthy of it. I'm just a bastard—the son of a serving girl and the king. That's all."
Alex placed a firm hand on Alistair's shoulder, meeting his gaze. "Alistair, remember what I told you about leadership? At some point, you'll have to lead—whether it's recruits into battle or an entire kingdom. This isn't about bloodlines or titles. It's about responsibility. We don't lead because we want to. We lead because we have to—because no one else can."
Alistair's shoulders sagged under the weight of Alex's words. "I'll be a terrible leader," he said quietly. "I can't even lead myself."
Elissa stepped forward, her tone both gentle and teasing. "Said the Templar Warden who led the frontlines at Lothering. Those men looked to you for guidance, Alistair, and you led them to victory. Don't sell yourself short. We believe in you."
Alex nodded. "Elissa's right. You have the strength to lead, Alistair. You just need to believe in yourself as much as we do."
Alistair sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine," he said reluctantly. "If the chance comes—if it's truly necessary—I'll take the throne. But don't expect me to enjoy it."
Alex grinned and clapped him on the back. "Good man. Now, let's deal with Redcliffe's problem before we start planning coronations."
With the matter settled, the group prepared to meet with the villagers and face the horrors that awaited them in the night.