WARNINGS: Referenced/Implied rape and torture; some graphic depictions of torture
MEIRA
It had happened in an instant. Imshael had hummed his tune, that hum I'd heard from the moment we'd stepped foot near Sahrnia. At first a whisper and then growing louder; to the point of madness. Only the elves among us seemed to hear it and it agitated us. When Laren and the others came to ask me about it, I knew then that it was most likely our enemy. Whyit only affected us, I did not know, but as soon as he hummed it, I recognized it for what it was: blood magic.
I'd acted quickly, throwing my consciousness into my own piece of the Fade. To the door. For if she could reside there while I had been Tranquil and survive, I could reside there while he worked his magic and survive as well. In so doing, Purpose and the others would remain intact and I could keep her from the armor.
I grasped the handle of the door, as I felt that hum leech into my very bones, reverberating all around in my piece of the Fade. And as I had all those months ago in Solasan with Impulse and Despair, I let Doubt win, keeping only the smallest sliver of myself alive. She rose to the surface as she'd been fighting to do since Imshael used her voice, had tempted me.
'I can heal your body'.
I felt the power emanating from Imshael. He was something different, something old and something very powerful. I knew he could do what he offered and I had wanted to accept. But at his words, Doubt had whispered: 'Your Maker will never restore you. Accept and be whole. Take his gift and let the templars go to fight them another day.'
At her words, I knew his own had a double meaning. He would fulfill his promise, but in a way that only brought him more power. In healing me, would he simply push me into an illusion, one I couldn't escape and let Doubt seize control of me? He promised to restore my body—a vague offer. To silence the cries that haunted me, to fill my arms that were so unbearably empty. None of it was a specific promise, all of it vague, meant to cause me to assume what he meant. A clever trick. But I had faced Desire before and it was aliar. An erroneous facsimile. For nothing it could conjure could truly satisfy.
'Mamae'.
I heard her voice. Smelled her sweet scent. Felt them both in my arms. Their tiny hands in mine. Heard her laughter and his sweet babble. But those memories had given Imshael a foothold. Had weakened my resolve and allowed Doubt to slip past my defenses just enough. I felt the ache, the hollowness, I so rarely allowed myself to feel. I closed my eyes.
You had your time with them. And if you give in, they will be lost.
They would live on in my memories, but if I gave in to the demon, gave in to Doubt, I would be lost and thus, so would they. No, now was the time to fight. Unbeknownst to her, I had been feeding Doubt, letting her grow in strength. As I had trapped Impulse and Despair in Solasan, so too would I use her own sustenance against her. I knew what I needed to do and when I triumphed, I would use the power she'd gained to turn it against Imshael. He was too powerful. Even with the armor, with the others, he could defeat me. I needed something more. I needed the one thing that nothing could stand against: hope.
I tightened my grip upon the door handle. My heart beat wildly, my stomach in my throat. I tightened my hands into fists to stop them from shaking. I knew that what lay beyond the door, those memories she hoarded, would be my undoing. And I feared that despite all my planning, despite knowing what I needed to do, I feared I would fail. My Maker, know my heart. Andraste, give me strength. Two hands came to rest on my shoulders. I looked to my left to find Embrace.
"I said I would be with you when you were ready," she murmured, her voice gentle.
I looked to my right, my heart breaking as I let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, "Purpose."
He'd aged even more. There was silver streaks in his hair and full beard. Wrinkles around his eyes that crinkled as he smiled broadly at me. He was reminding me what I was fighting for: I was fighting for Cullen, for our future, the hope that life would be worth fighting for. "It's time."
But despite knowing what I was fighting for, the thought of losing this spirit who had become so dear to me caused me to ache. "I can't…I can't ask this of you."
His brow knit and his smile fell. "Why ever not?"
"You'll die," I stated as my voice broke.
He came to stand before me, gold eyes gentle, his hands cupping my face. "Only to be born anew. Free of the painful memories of hurting you."
"So you'll forget," I breathed, "You will forget me."
"Possibly," he admitted, though his voice sounded uncertain, "but…you changed so much of me Meira, I do not think I can be reborn without you being part of the new me. In some way."
"Why would you willingly…do this for me?" I questioned.
"Is that not what friends do for each other?" He challenged with a raised brow.
I laughed weakly as he wiped my tears away with a thumb. I'd never realized how warm his hands were. "You know I hate it when you answer a question with a question."
"I know," he teased. He took his place at my side, both of them taking one of my shoulders. "You can do this, Meira," Purpose stated, "But I am sorry, for whatever happens. Remember your faith and your love, it is what feeds your hope."
"And remember that you must face it," Embrace warned, "You cannot run from it."
Nodding, I shoved down my fear and readied myself to open the door. 'Eyes sorrow-blinded, in darkness unbroken there 'pon the mountain, a voice answered my call. 'Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing, an ocean of sorrow does nobody drown. You have forgotten, spear-maid of Alamarr. Within My creation, none are alone'.
I was not alone. And the others needed me. He needed me. My mind filled with him: his smile, the warmth of his eyes, the gentleness of his touch, the kindness in his voice. For him, I would do this. For them, I would fight. For all whom I loved and cherished, I would endure. Again. Yes, what lies within may be my undoing, but if I face it, if I triumph, it will set me free—make me unbroken. After a deep breath, I pressed the door open and stepped inside.
…
The chamber within seemed impossibly vast as I walked on and on in the pitch black. There was no light here, not even the familiar green of the Fade. The only sound the faint trickle of water on stones. The ground beneath my feet was solid until I nearly tumbled into a yawning cavern. I threw myself backwards, landing with a thud that echoed, before scrambling away from the edge.
Panting for breath, my heart beating wildly, I tried desperately to summon fire in my hand. But nothing came now, not even the wisps I had been able to produce even without Ardor's piece of the armor. And I dared not summon the armor lest she be able to obtain it.
No, I was alone in the dark. As I sat there, uncertain of what to do to call Doubt out, I felt it once more. There was something watching me in the darkness and what had seemed stagnant as I'd walked, I now realized was alive. The shadows wriggled, whispered even. My hair stood on end as dread pooled in my belly.
'You cannot run from it.' Clenching my jaw, I stood and faced the abyss. "I am here."
All at once, those shadows silenced. And moved.
"So you are." The words were a whisper in my ear, her coldness biting as I felt her at my back."Come and see that which you have forgotten."
Pushing down the fear, I let out a breath before racing towards the edge. With a cry that sounded more like a scream, I leapt.
Down, down, down I fell, the air growing colder and colder. But there was the smallest pinprick of light. It grew larger the closer to the bottom I came until I jerked to a stop, suspended a moment before finding my feet.
Before me was the cell again, but this time it was enclosed. I was looking at the outside of it, the hidden door. Next to it was the torch holder, evoking memories of the only time I saw light while I'd been down there was when Alrik opened the door. Except for those rare times I defied him by summoning mage lights. At the memories, I knew what she wanted. I took the torch from its holder and pressed the door open, the glow of the fire illuminating what lay within.
It was me.
Broken, emaciated, naked. And atop me was not Alrik, but Cullen—Desire as Cullen. His fingers were digging into the fresh wounds upon my back, lashes from Karras's whip, reopening the furrows. I was screaming, screaming at the top of my lungs. Screaming until no sound came. Reality shifted and his torture turned to passion. Instead of the demon's talons opening my wounds, it was Cullen's fingers upon my back as we danced slowly.
I'd fall for the illusion, mind frayed from the pain, the isolation, the hunger, the trauma, all of it. The pieces of my splintering psyche desperate to stay together, desperate for a reprieve, accepting this as truth in order to stay whole. The moment I felt a bit of respite, Desire tore away the illusion.
The pain would come crashing back, the reality of my situation hitting me in full force. My mind would splinter further and I'd scream. The illusion came, but different. Instead of a dance, we were more intimate. Cullen's lips planting loving kisses. He'd let it play out, my mind desperate for solace. Our lovemaking would reach its height and he'd thrust me back into reality. But it was still Cullen's face, still Cullen's hands. Only now he was hurting me. I'd break, sobbing and screaming and fighting to get away.
He would laugh then, his face contorting to reveal the demon beneath for a moment. Then he'd clench onto my wrists, before straddling me, a great tongue lashing out to lick the tears from my cheeks. His torture was hungry and cruel. A violation beyond anything Alrik had ever done to me. I'd remember Desire's words the first time it'd come to me—the promise it'd made. My broken self would weep uncontrollably, begging for him to stop. He would and would disappear, but not before slicing my flesh with the blade. I watched as I lie there and wept. Deep, broken sobs that gutted me to listen to, for they could only be described as hopelessness personified.
"Maker," my broken self uttered, my voice hoarse, tears spilling from my closed eyes, "Let me die."
Silence met me. Both in the present and the past.
I didn't know how much time passed, but eventually my past self stirred. I was muttering to myself. At first, I thought it maddened babble until I came closer. Curled as tightly as could be against myself, I protected the smallest flicker of Fade-born light. Illuminated by it, I saw what my past self was looking at; there in the metal of the shackles that chained me, I had scratched words with a loose bit of stone: Our Maker sees this with a heavy heart. Below that:Only the Word dispels the darkness upon us.On the other shackle: The deep dark before dawn's first light seems eternal, but know that the sun always rises.
I let out a shuddering breath, one that spoke of long suffering, before I closed my eyes and began to sing. I wasn't just speaking the Chant, wordlessly mouthing it to myself, but singing it as we did in chantry services:
"But my faith sustains me.
In the long hours of the night when hope has abandoned me,
I will see the stars and know Your Light remains."
Despair returned again, this time, I did not fight as he resumed his torture. He shifted us into the Fade, changing reality into passion. Back and forth it went.
"I have faced armies with You as my shield,
and though I bear scars beyond counting,
nothing can break me except Your absence.
I will not forsake You, even if I forget myself.
The Maker is the rock to which I cling."
He cackled, taunting me, cutting into my flesh as he assured me there was no Maker and my faith was pointless. That he could give me what I wanted, all I had to do was ask. Tears poured down my cheeks. I felt it all, everything I had felt. The disgust, the longing, the anguish. It was brutal, gruesome, disgusting.
"Maker though the darkness comes upon me,
I shall embrace the Light,
I shall weather the storm.
I shall endure.
What you have created,
No one can tear asunder."
Desire let out a growl, growing desperate, and forced me to remember every time it had tortured me before. I felt it all at once, it crushing down upon me. What is left of me? They'd stolen everything. Destroyed everything. But something told me not to give up, to hold on to hope, to keep singing.
"I cannot see the path.
Perhaps there is only abyss.
Trembling, I step forward,
In darkness enveloped.
Though all before me is shadow,
Yet shall the Maker be my guide."
He let out a hiss of frustration before disappearing. I lay upon the stones, bleeding and broken, little more than a husk. There was nothing left, not anymore. Nothing but the desperate need to hope that somehow, somehow the Light would prevail. And it was that desperation that made me sing all the louder. Alrik came then, commanding me to be silent as the torture became real. I didn't listen. He spit at how vile I was, a monster, a thief, a sinner. Foul and corrupt. Unredeemable save the Rite of Tranquility.
I lay there, staring up at the stones, empty of everything but the Chant. The will to fight gone, the will to cling slipping away. I was utterly broken. For what good could come from this? I would die down here, shattered and alone. I stared up, beseeching the Maker as Alrik violated me again and again, rage at my unwillingness to break.
But I was broken. So utterly broken. What real hope had I of ever escaping? Even if some miracle happened and I left this cell, I would never truly leave. For within it, everything that had made me, me had been stripped from me. My dignity, my care for others, my conviction. I fought, but had forgotten why. I would never see him again. And even if I did, how could he ever love me? I was broken, tainted, and a mage—a creature that wielded magic and manipulated reality itself—which he had grown to fear.
How could anyone ever love me? How could I ever be whole again? What hope had I that life would ever be worth living again? For who had gone in this cell would not be what came out. Alrik and Desire had corrupted me into something hideous. The only salvation I had was death and even that I was not granted. And despite it all, despite the whispers within my own mind that my faith was a falsehood, I knew the truth. The Maker allowed nothing without purpose. Even this. I cried out a final time, reaching, clawing, clinging to hope.
"O Maker, hear my cry:
Guide me through the blackest night.
Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked.
Make me to rest in the warmest places.
O Creator, see me kneel:
For I walk only where You would bid me.
Stand only in the places You have blessed.
Sing only the words You place in my throat.
My Maker, know my heart:
Take from me a life of sorrow.
Lift me from a world of pain.
Judge me worthy of Your endless pride.
My Creator, judge me whole:
Find me well within Your grace.
Touch me with fire that I be cleansed.
Tell me I have sung to Your approval.
O Maker, hear my cry:
Seat me by Your side in death.
Make me one within Your glory.
And let the world once more see Your favor.
For You are the fire at the heart of the world,
And comfort is only Yours to give."
Where usually silence had met me, a voice answered. "I have heard the sound, a song in the stillness, the echo of Your voice. Your Light is ever present, and those I have called, they remember, and they shall endure. I shall sing with them the Chant, and all will know, we are Yours, and none shall stand before us."
I blinked and turned my head. Alrik atop me, his ravaging unceasing, he did not notice. Perhaps it was my imagining, madness bearing fruit, or perhaps I had fallen unconscious and entered the Fade. No matter the truth, I couldn't deny that beside me sat a spirit.
It was made of light, features indistinguishable, but blinding and beautiful. From it, came an exquisite song, and I wanted nothing more than to hear it. It stretched out a hand and I grasped it. The melody sang within me, so stirring as it poured into my soul and soothed the pain, mended the tears within my mind, quenched my soul's thirst. It filled me with peace, renewed my strength, and called me to look to the future.
"For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water. As the moth sees light and goes towards flame, she should see fire and go towards Light. The Veil holds no uncertainty for her, and she will know no fear of death, for the Maker shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword."
Whether I lived or died, if I did not lose myself, I had nothing to fear. The Maker waited for me past the Veil, His love would embrace me and restore me. Make me whole. And I would rest forever in eternity in the warmest places. And if I lived, if I escaped this cell, someday if I clung to hope, to His assurances, I would be restored. Whether in this life or the one beyond the Veil, I would eventually see the Light again. And in that realization, my will to endure increased tenfold. I wept, not with hopelessness, but joy.
There was hope. There was always hope.
The reprieve was short lived as I was slammed with the Wrath of Heaven. My mind fractured apart and I felt something deep within me crack.
…
"You told me no other demons could wrest control from you! That you'd been fattened up enough that you were too powerful to be challenged by others!" Alrik screamed over my prone body.
"Demons, yes," Desire shrugged in Cullen's form, "Spirits, no."
"What?"
"Spirits. We're not all malevolent, we who rule the Fade."
"Then what was it?" Alrik demanded.
"Hope," Desire stated matter-of-factly.
"Hope?"
"A spirit of hope," Desire enunciated each word as if Alrik were unintelligent.
"What did it do?"
"I suppose it tried to possess her, after a fashion."
This gave Alrik pause, his voice far calmer when he next spoke. "Did it succeed?"
"Only one way to find out."
The torture began again, but this time something was different. The demon's smile faltered. All that emanated from me was darkness, void. I was frozen inside; ice in its purest form. Unfeeling, void of warmth—of life. I had died. Not physically, but emotionally, spiritually, mentally, I was gone. And in my place—
"Despair," the demon whispered, the mask of its illusion fading and I saw what it was. The demon snapped its fingers and I fell unconscious. It's true form turning to Alrik as he stood in the shadows.
"What do you mean?" Alrik asked.
"Do you not know, man of the faith? He who seeks only the salvation of his charges? You should be well acquainted with me, for you are a great servant who would bring me a feast. Tell me, what comes when hope is lost?"
Ihad spoken, my voice so full of mockery. Just as hers always was, every word meant to cast doubt. To twist the truth. Both of them startled and turned. I stared at them with black, fathomless eyes. Ice and shadow creeping along the stones towards them. "Cast aside Desire, forIcan grant that which you seek. Your brethren keep my kind at bay, but let me in and I will deliver every mage into your hand. Only let me spread my miasma and they all will fall. For is that not what you seek? To save them all?"
True fear crossed Otto's face as he took a step back. My face twisted then, the black in my eyes draining. "No," I cried, my voice weak, "You will not have me." I was fighting the demon.
Desire snapped its fingers and I fell unconscious, the shadows and ice dissipating. Rage was on its face as it spoke, "Despair! It has not fully possessed her, but…we cannot allow this. If Despair takes root here…it will grow too powerful and you will not be able to contain it."
"Can you reverse the damage? Kill it?"
"Yes and no," Desire offered.
"Speak plainly, demon," Alrik snapped, "Lest I cut you and that abomination down."
"She isn't an abomination," Desire argued, "Not yet. But I am not a benevolent spirit. I cannot fight Despair. Nor can I wrest control from it—not in her. To try to do so would be suicide. For she feels despair every waking moment. As it said, you have prepared a feast for it. The best I can do is make her forget. Deprive Despair of its food and starve it out." Alrik stared at my unconscious body. "You would so hate to lose her, would you not?"
"I would," Alrik murmured, possessiveness in his voice. "She is mine." He continued to stare. "But why would I not just make her Tranquil now? If a demon truly resides in her, I need only to sever her connection to the Fade to kill it. Then she wouldtruly be mine. No more fighting. I could place her in The Gallows, her salvation clear upon her forehead. Her knight-captain would see her rendered docile but learn that she is mine."
"Or so you believe," Desire scoffed.
Alrik jerked his head at the demon. "You disagree?"
The demon gave a slight bow. "I have looked into the dreams of this knight-captain to better understand their connection in effort to gain her willingness. If he saw her, he would not so easily let her alone. He would seek her safety, especially if he believed her harmless because of Tranquility. Soon enough, he would discover you."
"Then I'd kill him and throw his body into the harbor," Alrik promised, his voice full of dark malevolence.
"And you believe Meredith would accept this? Her prized pupil suddenly gone? One whom shepersonally mentored because of his devotion? One whose word she favors over yours? Did she not reject your proposal? You who have been in her service far longer than he has?" The demon approached Alrik, circling him. "Is it not more satisfying to keep her down here, merely layers beneath his feet, enjoying everything he never did? Never will? Keeping her all to yourself? Have you not found another in need of salvation?"
"Ella," Alrik breathed, in that single word was all his lustful desire.
"Yes, Ella. Such a pretty girl. I will tell you she is planning to run. You need only bide your time. Then you could save her, have her. In the meantime, I would keep working upon this one. Will it not be all the more satisfying if I get her to submit? Or perhaps you even deny her salvation since she continues to resist. Then, even in death, you keep her from her knight-captain?"
Alrik mulled over the demon's words. Desire was manipulating him, yet he seemed not to notice. Or he did and that was why Alrik cut it down when I finally gave in to it. "You believe you can still succeed?"
"I do, if you but allow me the time," Desire bowed again.
"Do it," Alrik commanded, "Even if I jeopardize this, I want that whelp to suffer. He took what should have been mine. So I will deal with him in kind. Call me when you succeed."
"I shall," Desire dipped its chin, "It should not be long. I shall make her forget everything I have done and try a new approach. I believe I understand what she desires now and how to get her to submit."
"Very well," Alrik gave a dismissive wave of his hand as he turned to leave. He stopped and looked back at me. "You say it was a spirit of hope?"
"I did."
Alrik smiled cruelly. "Comfort her. Offer her innocence."
Desire chuckled. "My thoughts exactly."
Alrik left and I watched as Desire worked for a time as I lay unconscious. It once again donned Cullen's face before waking me. It was the moment when it tempted me with the gentle illusion of Cullen and I in the hall. When I had given in.
"He says I am to comfort you," the demon Cullen spoke.
Suddenly, darkness filled the pit. The cell and the projected memories swallowed up by it. My heart started pounding, the feeling that I was being watched causing gooseflesh to bloom across my skin. I still held the torch, though the light seemed insufficient in the face of such overwhelming darkness. Then before me, my emaciated self stood. Her eyes were empty, no light, no emotions, nothing. Yet, a smile spread across her face.
"I have been waiting," she spoke, "You've kept me locked away for so long, I've had to entertain myself." She flicked her hands and the scenes of the desire demon's torture played out over and over. Ending with when I had given in to Desire and broke in the aftermath.
"So, I watched myself be born again and again. Isn't it beautiful? Alrik broke you when he slammed the Veil closed. I forgot myself amidst that horrid place, cut off from the Fade. Such a miasma had already spread within it. It would have been a kingly feast for hundreds of spirits of despair. Yet, even in that state, a part of you still refused to give in to despair. But you were broken, lost, so I hid amongst the wreckage. He tried to make you forget in order to fix you.
"When Desire worked his magic, he poured a little too much of himself into you. You see, in his own twisted way he'd fallen for you. He wanted you for himself. He made you forget every time so you didn't have to live with seeing the man you love destroy you over and over again. So, that when he wore his face, you would want did he know that I pulled a piece of him with me. Struggling as it did, but I held on. Then Alrik killed him and that little piece of him became a part of me. A part of you."
I was trembling as she smiled at me. Her teeth bared, her black eyes unblinking. "You are not me."
"Oh, but I am. I am neither demon, nor spirit, nor you, but a little mix of all. You as you should be—as you would be had you succumbed to what broke you. To the corruption you inflicted upon me. For if you'd accepted Desire's offer, you would not have been some simple abomination, but more."
I could feel her growing in strength, feeding on the despair on the mortal plane. "Why didn't you take over when I was Tranquil? I wouldn't have been able to fight back."
She paced before me, eyes never leaving me. "Once Alrik was dead, I tried, but I sensed him—Purpose. Something had happened when Alrik killed him. You had called him back to his benevolent self as you laid dying in the aftermath of Alrik's final assault. When Hope had reached out to you, when Alrik had used the Wrath of Heaven upon you, the seal upon your dreamer abilities had cracked. Unwittingly, you used them as you approached the precipice of death. We fought for dominance. But we both quickly realized something."
"What was that?"
"We couldn't kill each other without killing you. We are what sustained you all that time in the dark. So, we waited, feeding off you, off your mana, in order to stay alive and gain strength. When they used that dreamer to try and erase your memories, we fought again for you—for if they erased your memories, would we also cease to be? Or vice versa—if we ceased to be, would you? Purpose suggested this and I relented. They put the brand to your forehead and to our amazement, we remained. And did you, but you were…disconnected. We did not understand it, but before we could come to terms with it all, Purpose called for Feynriel to trap me in a prison within you." She gestured around us.
"So, I was cast into the darkness and Purpose stood guard at the door. He'd watched you, learned about you and how he still remained, realizing that I had helped keep him alive because of the memories I had taken. Feynriel had reshaped the memories of Alrik. The memoires of Desire were already gone, hidden with me in the dark, where I feasted on them to sustain my power. We were two parasites catching a free ride within your hollow meat sack. Then the unthinkable happened."
"Haven."
She nodded. "You nearly died, but Purpose offered to sustain your life force even knowing I, too, would remain. So, he kept you alive, every moment trying to guide you as to how to deal with me. But you kept running away. Closing the door. Unwilling to face me. And he began to realize something was different. I was no longer simply Despair. For as much as you had unwittingly used your abilities upon him, so too had you been using them upon me. I had changed when he died, those bits of him becoming part of me. Then I changed again in Haven. And again, in Solasan. Each time made all the worse because you kept refusing to face me. All this time I have been growing in the dark, biding my time."
She looked at me, hatred burning in her black eyes. The darkness in the room slithered back, crawling up her limbs, shrouding her like a cloak before flaring out like great membranous wings. The temperature plummeted, the torch going out, frost crawling upon my skin. I watched as she grew like a shadow cast by the low sun.
"And how I have grown."
Terror gripped me hard. I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. She smiled and I felt those tendrils of icy shadow licking my skin. In them were the whispers of all I suffered. Everything that had fed her all these months since I'd awoken and all those years in that cell. 'You cannot run from it'. I cried out as those tendrils hooked into my flesh.
"I smell your fear." Those tendrils wormed their way beneath my skin, into my bones and burrowed into my soul.
"You reek of it." She picked me up, I screaming as those hooks tore at me.
"How pathetic you are. How utterly sad. To have escaped that cell only physically. You're still trapped there, still broken. Still so afraid. So afraid of yourself, so full of your doubt—that you are a monster incapable and unworthy of being loved. You are too broken, too disgusting, too weak to be worthy of the time you have been given. There is no hope that you will ever truly be happy or whole again because of all that was stolen from you." She brought me close to her face, despair seeping into my soul and infecting it, consuming me, melding with me. She caressed my cheek.
"There is no Maker waiting across the Veil. Cullen will come to realize what you are in time. He will remember why he fears mages. They will all reject you after seeing you for what you are. After tasting Doubt. Rest here with me, era'harel. For you are broken and nothing can make you whole again."
She was right. I knew she was right. I should just give up and let the others slay me. Put an end to all of this misery. 'Fight, Meira,' Embrace whispered. My eyes fell closed, the darkness having nearly burrowed through every inch of me. Every bit except that spot where I could feel Cullen's coin cool against my skin in the mortal plane, right over my heart. I listened to my heartbeat slowing, echoing in that chamber of darkness, everything but the doubt fading away.
"You asked me once what I would do if you were possessed by a demon," Cullen's voice sliced through the deafening blackness burning brightest gold and warming the bitter cold. I felt Purpose and Embrace guiding those words to me. My eyes snapped open, Doubt growling as her concentration was broken.
"And I told you that I would do everything in my power to not let you succumb to that fate. But I also said that I trusted you to do everything in your power to never let that fate come to pass. You assured me you would."
'Remember your promise, Meira,' Purpose commanded. 'You cannot run; you must face it.' I am a sword forged by the Maker to be wielded by Him. 'What could come of Doubt redeemed?'
"I will kill that pathetic templar!" Doubt raged, her concentration slipping just a little more. I could sense her moving my body towards Cullen. Could almost see him—was he on his knees, his weapons on the ground? What is he doing?! I had to stop her; she was going to kill him! "I will walk right up to him and slash open his throat! I will feast on his despair as he bleeds out on the stone!"
"You asked if I trusted you. I assured you I did. Assure me once more that my trust was not misplaced."
What is Despair? The absence of hope; the absence of faith. What is Doubt? The absence of trust; the absence of conviction. Had I ever been without any of those? Even in my darkest moments? I had clung to hope so tightly I had called a spirit of hope to me. Hope had come and had renewed my strength. Then he'd trapped her there and she'd been corrupted. Corrupted further when I gave in to Desire and then despair at my failure.
I had to make it right. There was always hope and right now, we all desperately needed it. Right now, I had to save the man I loved as he was trying to save me. Because there was hope, even in the doubt. Even in the despair. It was just hidden.
I knew what I needed to do. I closed my eyes and as carefully as I could, I felt along her tendrils, past the whispers, ignoring the biting ice. Beneath it all, there was the tiniest flicker of warmth. Of light. The gentlest whisper of that beautiful song:
'Whatsoever passes through the fire
Is not lost, but made eternal;
As air can never be broken nor crushed,
The tempered soul is everlasting! Remember the fire.
You must pass through it alone to be forged anew.
Look! Look upon the Light so you
May lead others here through the darkness,
Blade of the Faith!'
"You are no monster, beloved," Cullen reassured me, "You never were. Never have been. And never will be."
'For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.
As the moth sees light and goes toward flame,
She should see fire and go towards Light.
The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,
And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker
Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword.'
With a cry, I reached for that tiny bit of light.
"NOOOOO!" Doubt screamed realizing at the last moment, but it was too late.
As I seized that flicker, I burst into brightest, purest flame. Burning and consuming those icy tendrils of shadow and illuminating the dark abyss. There was no escape for her. Her shadows fed the light, it growing and growing, filling me as they had, fanning out from that small spot that had stayed me. Doubt was screaming, screeching as she threw her hands over her eyes. She tried to flee, but there was nowhere to run.
I burned and burned, all the power I had allowed her to gain now feeding and growing my own. At it, the ice in my heart melted away and I felt peace invade my every fiber. I opened those pools of mana, cold as they were, and let the light shine upon them. The light of life, warmth, joy, passion, faith. Hope. Burning and burning within my heart. My soul. It was time to let go of doubt.
"I am sorry for what I brought upon you," I whispered as I embraced her, the flames of light wreathing around her. "I am sorry for what we endured." Her black eyes stared at me, the flames absorbing her. Black tears pooled in her eyes, but didn't fall. I held her as the light burned her away, that song growing louder and louder. "But there is no reason to doubt any longer. For there is hope. There has always been hope."
"Do not forget," she begged, "Do not ever forget that."
"I won't," I promised as I pulled away from her. "Thank you for coming to me when I needed you most." I placed a hand over her heart. As I did, another hand laid over mine. And another over that. I looked to see Purpose and Embrace to either side of me. They smiled, tears in their eyes. I didn't want to let them go, but I knew I had to for all our sakes.
"We must leave you now, you are ready," all three of them said together.
"I will miss you," I said.
"And we you."
Purpose cupped my cheek with his other hand. "You've finally remembered." I chuckled sadly as he smiled gently at me. "I love you, Meira," he murmured, "And I thank you for giving me this taste of mortality. Now please, go put an end to that demon. To the Red Templars. To Corypheus. But most of all, put Cullen out of his misery and find happiness." He kissed my cheek. "I have fulfilled my purpose."
"What about mine?" I questioned.
"You'll know when the time comes," he promised.
They faded, but an idea came to me. What the Augur had shown me at Stone-Bear. I had to let them go, but I could remember them. Invite them to mold into something new. All of them. Renewed, redeemed, free of everything we'd endured. As Doubt was about to be free. As I was about to be free. But they would be somethingmore, because my magic was something more. My heart beating strong, proud, in defiance of all Alrik had done, of all he had told me, tried to convince me of, I reached for that magic. For the magic of a dreamer and called for it to will something new into being. Something good, something beautiful, something pure with the magic the Maker had given me.
"Now remember your purpose and embrace it," I called to Doubt, to them all.
The last bits of her melting away, she smiled, a single tear falling down her bony, sunken cheek. She caught it in her skeletal hand and pressed it into my palm. I held hers and watched as she faded, like ash on the wind, her eyes sweeping close with the greatest sigh of relief. A burst of light blinded me for a moment and I felt a heavy weight grow in my hand.
I blinked and looked down. In my hands, was the most beautiful sword hilt I'd ever seen. Fashioned in the form of two dragons twisting around each other; the grip was of smooth ebony wood while the pommel and guard that was their heads of carved white, iridescent mother-of-pearl. Both had gemstones for eyes: one of onyx, the other emeralds. Between their open maws they held an oval diamond of the finest quality. Tears fell as I gripped the hilt, the wood warming at my touch, the eyes sparking with light and the diamond between flickering before fire roared from it into a magical blade that danced between gold and purest white flames.
"Thank you," I whispered as I cradled it against my chest.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to find a new spirit. He was young in appearance, no more than a teenager, though he was tall, broad-shouldered, with flaxen hair and olive skin. He had one eye of pure gold, and the other was of pure silver. His features were a mixture of Purpose, Embrace and Doubt. A combination of Cullen and I, I realized, and my heart swelled with joy.
"Thank you," he spoke, "You've set them all free."
I couldn't speak, tears overflowing as I felt myself knitting back together. Wholly me, wholly healed, wholly free.
"Out of your desperation and doubt, I was born. Out of your endurance and faith, I was made new. I am Assurance."
I studied him. "Assurance?"
His eyes sparkled. "Promise. Certainty. So many mortals think of hope as some delicate thing. And because of that, many spirits of hope stay away from the mortal world, knowing we would be easily corrupted. But Hope is not delicate. It is an all-consuming, unquenchable fire, snapping and snarling as it rises again and again from the ashes. Nothing and no one can stand against hope. You cannot kill it, you cannot imprison it, you cannot defeat it. Hope is made of dreams, light, music, love; it enables perseverance, purpose, peace, charity, patience, wisdom and faith.
"What is the opposite of fear? Some say faith, but for you…for you it is hope. You looked into the darkness, into the fear, and hoped. Hoped light and love and joy would come once more. You never doubted your faith, never stopped hoping in what you believe. What you doubted was the hope that life would ever be worthwhile again, but even so, you clung to hope." He smiled gently.
"To call hope, one must act with the will to hope in the darkest of moments. I am the assurance that hope will be answered. The promise that suffering and sacrifice are not in vain. Certainty to dispel the doubt." He gestured the hilt.
"Take their gift. It is their wills fashioned into a tool that will obey you like no other. Both I and the blade will allow you to wield the armor. Use both to bring hope to the others."
"I will," I said softly, but not weakly.
He offered a hand. Taking it and using the staff to pull myself up. The darkness and abyss gone, only the cell remaining, I watched as around me it crumbled. I wept. Cried so hard, I didn't know if I could stop. Finally allowing myself to grieve and mourn all that had happened to me. All that had been done to me. All I had lost. But I was no longer angry. No longer despairing. No longer doubting. I wept for the girl that had died in that cell but rejoiced for the woman who now stood within it. Renewed, redeemed, restored and reforged. I watched the last bits of stone crumble to dust.
Assurance. It was an apt name. For not all I hoped for could be gained immediately, but freed of Doubt, I was assured that they would come. I knew with certainty I would defeat the enemies we now faced. That I was not a monster. I had never been one. And I would fight no matter what to never be.
Taking the hilt in my hand, feeling the hum of the power within it as flames burned once more, I looked toward the great river that was my mana. I ran towards it and threw myself in once more. I grabbed it and pulled, pulling it down to meet the one below it and the one below that. They converged and as they did, I summoned each piece of the armor upon me. The power was nearly overwhelming, but I held firm to the blade. True to his promise, the weight of the power eased. As it did, I unleashed my mana. No longer ice and shadow, but fire and light. Spreading it wide, I flew from the Fade.
And with that, I need a box of tissues. This was both a long-awaited chapter and a chapter that I dreaded because I wanted to get it just right. I hope that I did.
Notes:
+ I might have taken some liberties in how demons/possession worked, but I took inspiration from Connor, Anders and Wynne and hope that it still sounds plausible within the confines of Dragon Age lore.
+ I added some more context to Alrik's character here, but I want to put a disclaimer (it shouldn't be necessary but I will put it anyway): his character is disgusting. I do not want anyone to think I am in anyway glorifying him. He is merely a catalyst for Meira's story and thus Cullen's in this fic. But the context is pertinent as to motivation towards his actions concerning Meira in this fic.
+ I know Cullen's reaction in the last chapter may have seemed "out of character" but I hope I've properly laid the foundation in this fic to make it seem in-character for this version of him. It is inspired by his answer to a romanced mage Inquisitor when she asks him what he would do if she were possessed. I don't think he would fully know the answer until faced with the scenario and in the moment would make his decision. In the case of Meira, he knows she's capable of fighting it and understands that he does not know what dreamer mages are even capable of where possession is concerned. He trust her to fight it. So he does the one thing he believes will enable her to triumph—offer to sacrifice himself. Because he'd rather die than kill her, but is willing to take the gamble that her love would win out (yes, we're doing the "true love conquers all" trope—not sorry). Anyways, hope that makes sense.
+ The blade she gains is inspired by the Blade of Tidarion. A magical blade that uses elemental magic (thus the flames) that when used alone is a two-handed weapon but when used by a Knight Enchanter it and the spirit blade become dual magical swords. It is my favorite way to play a mage in DA:I—dual magical blades. It is so epic. But it is also inspired by the Chant of Light (in case that wasn't obvious lol). And while I know in canon, mages cannot take things out of the Fade, I figured a dreamer mage might be able to.
Anyways, I know it's a little shorter chapter, but I wanted it to stand on its own. Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading! Faves, follows and reviews are always welcome and appreciated!