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Co-Author and Beta: Ethereal-23
The Deep Roads: Further Depths
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Roars echoed throughout, with Darkspawn charging with unrelenting and blinding fury. Coming from out of the thaig ruins around Marcus and his company while they searched for their comrades they were split from. Despite the injuries of the few, they put up a fight against their attackers. Sharp dual axes tore through a genlock's head upon parrying its lunge with its tainted-covered blade.
The Argonian growled, "And I thought the abominations during the Planemeld were twisted!" Spinning the back of his heels, he whipped his tail around and struck a charging Hurlock in the stomach before twisting around and plunging his weapons into the beast's armor chest. "Did Namira and Peryite fuck and had these things!?"
"What I thought!" Serana called out, blasting several Blighters with ice spikes and slicing others with her father's katana.
Further ahead came a towering alpha Hurlock in the blackest of jagged armor roared, bringing down a massive warhammer only to be caught mid-thrust by the newly transformed Gin, who glared with rising fury in his eyes. Blighted beast and Dragon-Forged elf snarl at one another while they pull and tug with warhammer. A fire surges through the City Elf's body, with his newfound strength increasing as he rips the weapon from the Hurlock.
Along with its arms.
It did not have a moment to register the pain before the elven warden slammed its hammer against its head, tearing it off in a single strike. However, that did not sate Gin's wrath, as he soon came upon two Genlocks he grabbed by their heads. Raising them off the ground, he smashed their heads together, crushing both with ease. They barely started to fall before Tabris moved towards another Blighter.
But at that moment, Gin wasn't seeing the Darkspawn. His vision was clouded by red and black. His ears were buzzing with the sound of a hundred hornets, and he could only feel his body moving instinctively, lashing out with his blades, tearing, ripping, and cutting. At one point, he let go of one of his blades and just began punching repeatedly, his knuckles bruised as flesh tenderized under his fist, crushing cartilage and breaking bones.
The blood spilled everywhere, black and viscous, foul and profane. But Gin didn't care; he let it wash all over him in torrents.
There was only the next monster, the next creature that inspired endless hate in him. He needed to kill them, needed to tear them apart with his teeth if he had to.
"Gin!"
More death, more blood, more monsters.
Never enough; he needed to kill more, find more until he killed them all.
"Gin!"
The roar ripping from his throat hurt on the way out, like little knives carrying heat with them.
Monsters, all of them deserving the most violent death.
More targets for him to satisfy his need to kill.
"Kaan Drem Ov!"
Gin gasped as a sense of stillness filled him, washing over him like a gentle wave. The buzzing in his ears went away, and his vision was clouded no longer. He felt no anger, no hatred, nor any need to keep fighting.
Fittingly, there was no need to keep going.
Every Darkspawn around them was dead. Slain by either his companions or by his hand.
Gin looked down, seeing the hurlock in his grasp, missing a jaw, his fingers digging firmly inside its torn-apart maw.
He was drenched in Blighted blood from head to toe, and splattered patterns painted him as a macabre work of art.
The forced calm he felt kept him from feeling horrified, but... a trace of that disgust remained, enough to make him let go of the dead Blighter.
His friends were all staring at him with... fear.
They were afraid of him.
Save Miara, who bore the look of guilt but also understanding, coming to his side. Following the dark elf was Serana, who shared a knowing gaze. Along with them, but keeping a distance, was the Argonian man Sharp, who Gin had just met an hour ago. But his reptilian eyes shone a full look of familiarity and sympathy.
The Dovahkiin rested her hand on the city elf's arm, "Let us get some space."
The towering man nodded before looking back to the others. "I'm sorry." He spoke quietly before walking away, with Miara and Serana guiding him.
Alistair started to move and speak before Sharp raised his arm to stop him, "Let Miara and Serana handle this with your friend."
Wynne shuddered, "Miara's blood did that?"
"Divine blood is a flip of the septim in how it can go for a mortal. Seen plenty of it during the Planemeld."
"Will Gin be alright?" Sereda questioned.
"He has Miara with him. He couldn't ask for better help for this change he has gone through." Sharp turned his eyes to the party, "Have faith."
Marcus walked over, "You have a lot of devotion for her."
"And I always will." The Saxheel spoke with immense emotion in his tone.
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Marcus's group was not the only one besieged by Darkspawn...
A white blade of arcane energy flowed through the air and struck through the body of a Genlock that roared in pain till its head was severed from its neck by Neria in a deft sweep.
The further Neria and her company traversed through the broken ruins of Thaigs within the Deep roads, the more they encountered the blighted beasts that had taken these places from the Dwarves.
Yet despite being outnumbered, the skills of all those present proved the difference in death or survival.
Without her staff, Neria was forced to rely on casting without a focus. After a lifetime of growing accustomed to one, it made her magic a touch more 'raw' than usual. The spell casting emanating from her hands was only refined by her training and disciplined mind, so lightning did not spiral out of control, flames did not propagate aimlessly, and she kept everything spell in check so as not to harm her allies.
With Sofie at the back protecting Sarya, she had to focus on the front, analyze the situation, and react accordingly. She also had to make sure their party operated at maximum efficiency so they might survive this journey.
The tunnels became open, and more Darkspawn emerged from all sides, as her Blight-sensing warned her. And more were coming.
Arrows bounced off her barrier. "Shale, left flank, keep the pressure off us!"
The golem did so, grabbing a great boulder from the ground and sending it toward a group of Darkspawn archers, crushing them all as it collided with the ground and splintered into hundreds of pieces.
Her senses warned her of borrowers from the tunnel behind them. "Faren, our rear! Get ready!"
"On it!" The dwarven rogue grabbed a pair of grenades from his belt, patting Sofie's leg as he passed by and telling her to stay clear. The ground opened up as sharp claws burst through. Shriekers lived up to their name as they let out unholy sounds, scampering and clawing their way out from their holes.
Two grenades were lobbed at them, bursting in flashes of white, blue, and a blast of a cold gale. Their shrieks died down as their bodies became encased in ice, still as statues, and the ground around them frozen solid.
A series of aedric spears flew, shattering the monsters into frozen chunks of flesh. Neria nodded at Oryrn, who nodded back in turn.
Then Sten's body went flying, landing back to their line with a pained grunt. Neria snapped her gaze at the culprit, a tall, floating, shriveled-looking emissary with long, pointy ears and a mouth that opened far too wide. It let out a haunting howl as it rose its arm, conjuring orbs of baleful magic and firing them at great speed.
"Oryrn!"
The Templar acted fast, standing quickly at the front and channeling magic through his shield, protecting the comrades behind him. The magic missiles slammed repeatedly against the great golden aura, and the warrior gritted his teeth, holding his ground.
More darkspawn gathered by the emissary before marching upon them in a new wave. The emissary kept conjuring orbs of powerful magic to keep the pressure on them. Neria knew they had to take it out fast.
"Zevran, invisibility!" She shouted as she cast both a barrier and a haste spell on the assassin.
The blonde elf quickly understood her intent and swiftly picked up a vial from his pouch. He slammed it on the ground, and the alchemical cloud that emerged covered his form entirely, rendering his figure invisible from all regular sight.
Empowered by Neria's spell, Zevran moved with speed far beyond what a mortal was capable of. The world seemed to slow down around him as Zevran dodged the Darkspawn in the way, keeping his eyes on the target. The magic swirled around it like a dark miasma, so Zevran positioned him behind the emissary, daggers held in reverse as he jumped to the creature, arching his whole body back to deliver a dual stab with all his strength.
The creature shouted in slow motion as the blades pierced through skin, bone, and muscle. Time seemed to resume regularly for the elf as the tall darkspawn trashed around, but he held firmly and removed one of the blades to cut its throat swiftly.
A deafening howl nearly shook the ground at the sight of an ogre soon came at them with a massive axe in hand. Behind it came more of its blighted kin that were all soon met with a flurry of a nearly endless rain of aedric spears from their summoned help and friend of the Redoran family, Isobel, who floated in the air with her angelic wings.
"Foul abominations!" she declared, ending her spell and raising her sword into the air. "By the will of Ebonarm and Stendarr, I shall send you all to the void!" With a flap of her wings, she swooped down as her sword began to change into a large single-edged sword of golden holy light.
While her spears took down the ogre and some of the darkspawn, more poured around their corpses but quickly met a fetal end upon Isobel's summoned holy blade, cutting them all in a single horizontal strike. None had even a chance to roar in pain before their bodies, and the corpses of the others were reduced to ashes by the holy knight's divine might.
"Woohoo!" Sarya cheered in a dizzy state, "That's Aunty Isobel kicking but!"
Oghren rubbed his eyes, "Am I still drunk, or did that really happen?" Bran barked beside him. "Okay, so not drunk."
Isobel's sword returned to normal as she stood where the enemies had come, "Are there any more?!"
"I can't sense anymore for now," Neria answered back, trying to rein in the display of magic and power from the woman Sofie summoned.
"Incredible," Morrigan muttered before shaking out of her stupor to check Sarya.
The former knight of High Isle soon returned to the others with an approving smile: "You are all impressive fighters. Well done!" A pained grunt came from Oryrn, "Though you might have hurt yourself with that exertion." She winced.
Miara's son shook off the pain, "I can still fight."
"My, you are both beautiful and strong in battle. Would you-"
"She is sapphic Zev," Sofie spoke up dryly, interrupting the Thedas elf, knowing where he was going.
"Never mind."
Faren whistled, "Well, we might have a peaceful walk... for maybe a minute or two."
Neria turned her gaze to Sten, "Are you okay?"
"I am not injured." The Qunari grunted, "You led us well, Warden Surana."
The use of her title conveyed much of how the qunari felt. Neria wasn't sure she'd ever be fully comfortable around Sten. It was hard for her to distance his culture and what they did to mages from the man, particularly when he expressed his beliefs unabashedly. But it still meant something to hear praise from such a disciplined and experienced warrior.
Neria did not think much of how she had taken command so swiftly after they got into this situation. She was the only Warden of the group, the only one who could navigate them safely in these Darkspawn-infested tunnels.
Someone had to.
"Is anyone wounded?" She asked, needing to make sure before they continued.
"We're alright," Leliana replied. "Just Sarya's that still out of it." She reached over and tapped said elf's shoulder. "Don't fall asleep"
"Wasn't gonna..."
"Lady Isobel," Neria said as she turned to the angelic woman. "How much longer do you reckon your summoning will last?"
"Far more than enough, young mage," The woman promised with a reassuring smile. "The Thu'um and my nature allow for much."
"I can always Shout again," Sofie said, adjusting Sarya in her back.
Neria raised her hand and channeled Detect Life, a heartbeat-like sound ringing in her ears as the auras of her party flashed red in her vision. She saw small lifeforms signs among the tunnels, critters, and other underground creatures, but not Darkspawn nearby. At least, not at the range the spell would allow. Her Blight-sense would make up for it.
"We should press on," The elf said, walking in front of the group as they resumed their march to reunite with their friends.
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A shudder came from Gin after being a water-skin to cleanse off some of the Darkspawn blood from his armor and body. He sat on a pile of stone with his eyes glowing with several emotions before splashing water to his face and hair. Standing on either side of him were Miara and Serana, with the first holding nothing but overwhelming guilt in her ruby-colored eyes. "I am sorry, Gin. I am so sorry I did this to you."
"Words won't help me," Gin said, turning his attention to his hands. "Just this rage... Is..." He shuddered, "I can't control it at all."
"How you were killing those Darkspawn." Serana spoke up, "Were you seeing Darkspawn? Or something else?"
Silence came to them before the transformed elf lowered his head, "I... I was seeing all the Shem who hurt my people in the Alienage. Every person who treated us like animals. Or like we were property to be used and discarded..." He shuddered before shutting his eyes as he felt the spike of rage surging. Gnashing his teeth to bite down the shout that he wanted to roar out.
"Kaan."
The word almost sounded like a hymn from Miara, and the effects were immediate. Gin felt a calm peace engulf his being as he looked up with a grateful nod. "Thank you. But I can't rely on you forever to keep me calm. I need to do this myself." Before his rage hurt someone he loved, that thought alone terrified him more than anything else.
"You can't," Serana bluntly said. "Not now, not yet, because you've barely even begun to understand what happened to you, Gin."
Gin let out a soft growl, "My gaze went blank, and there were no thoughts in my mind other than violence. I think I can understand; I just... I need to get a grip, and I'll handle it."
He didn't know if he was trying to convince them or himself.
"What you experienced were your impulses taking over," Serana continued, "It's not a 'mindset' you can change or something to do with your personality. That rage was an instinctive reaction, a reflex. Surging from the depths of your being to the thinnest membrane behind the skin. It's something you can learn to control, yes, but not the way you think."
"Instinct?" Gin questioned. "You're saying these... bouts of rage are a natural reaction? Like an animal?"
"Yes," Miara did not mince words. "Serana and I both have those same instincts, and it was only through great dedication and effort that we mastered them. For me, as a dragon, it's the need to dominate and conquer."
"And to me," The vampire gravely said, "It's the Thirst."
The elf just looked at them, his gaze shifting as he tried to understand their words. If... If they truly knew what they were talking about, if they felt those things themselves, then he had to listen.
"You sometimes mentioned it before," Gin softly said to the gray elf. "That dragons live to rule. How can that be your nature?"
"The world is flawed," Miara merely declared. "It is unruly, chaotic, ugly and dark. We dragons are born with the purest, brightest, most orderly souls. We ride the waves of time and feel its perfect flow beneath our wings. We understand the fine, delicate machinery this world is, the detail, the care, the dedication the gods placed upon it... But we see the chaos it spawned after its birth, and it clashes against our nature. We see the lesser races, the mortals and their insanity, their brief and dim souls, and we know we stand apart from them as greater beings. It is... natural for us to feel that way about them. It is why we feel the need to dominate because we know we are beings of order; we can impose that order on the disruptive chaos of the world with our Voices."
"...And you truly feel that way?"
"Some days more than others."
"How do you..." The newly-dragonforged elf paused, "How do you resist it?"
"Hmm," The Dragonborn let out a pondering noise. "I was mortal first. I came to love this world before I understood what I was. It... helped. Seeing people as people."
Miara crossed her arms under her bust, hands on her biceps. "And I understand not being in control more than most." Her voice grew hollow. "When I gave myself to Mephala to save a child and joined the Dark Brotherhood."
The City Elf's eyes sharply went to the Dunmeri woman. "Mephala, " he said, the name slowly. "She is one of those Princes, right?" He vaguely recalled Sarya explaining about the Tamrielic gods.
"Daedric Prince, Goddess of sex, lies, and plots. And the creator of the Morag Tong and Dark Brotherhood."
Gin's brow rose, "She made you become an assassin."
"I became an assassin out of my own choices because of my blind hatred for Titus and the Empire at the time. All Mephala ensured was I did not kill the Brotherhood members till Titus was dead."
The young man's face bloomed with confusion. "When you gave yourself to her? To save a child?"
Miara let out a long sigh, "It was when I first came to Skyrim thirty years ago. I killed my first dragon with the Whiterun guards, The Companions, and the Khajiiti caravan warriors who were there at the time. Jarl Balgruuf made me Thane and eventually became his and his brother's close friend. Balgruuf came to me about one of his sons, Nelkir, who had been growing distant and resentful of his father and siblings." She paused, "He thought it might have been because Nelkir was born out of wedlock, unlike Frothar and Dagny."
"He found out and got angry?"
"Nelkir used to be calm and polite. His change was too sudden to be normal. So he asked me to investigate in case there was perhaps something natural afoot. It was… disturbing how he spoke about his father and siblings in a manner no child should. It terrified me. I asked what brought this on. He said he was angry at everyone lying to him all the time until he met someone in a locked room in the pantry of Dragon's Reach. Someone who only called herself the Whispering Lady."
Miara's tone grew increasingly lower, speaking at a slower pace.
This wasn't just another story from her past, one of the countless she shared around the campfire or Soldier's Keep. No, this was a memory that haunted her.
Serana stood close, placing an arm around her beloved to comfort her. Her presence was more than enough for Miara to recall those events to Gin.
"An old castle with such a long history. A haunting, I thought," Miara shrugged, voice laced with a humorless laugh. "Just a ghost, a wight, or a poltergeist. I'd vanish it and spare Nelkir of its influence." Her lips pursed as the tip of her tongue ran over them, suddenly finding them dry. "I had no idea what truly awaited me there."
Gin was swift to connect the dots, "Mephala..."
"The Webspinner herself, inside that empty room," The dunmer bitterly said. "And on a table was her very own weapon, the Ebony Blade. The Leech, the Heart-Taker, the Kiss of Betrayal, the Friend-Slayer. All of Mephala's manipulations and corruption warped into a twisted weapon of inconceivable cruelty... Her voice, her will, at the reach of a young boy who grew bitter with the truths she told him, filling him with anger as she bared to him the dark secrets in men's hearts."
The city elf remained silent.
"I knew then that Mephala wanted him in her grasp," She said somberly. "The embittered bastard of a jarl, influenced by the Mistress of Plots. I shuddered to think the chain of events that would be unleashed from her meddling in such circumstances."
"You defied her," Gin muttered, "To free the boy."
"I bargained," Miara spat. "I threatened, I pleaded, I begged—anything to unravel the plots she had weaved around Nelkir."
She paused for what felt like a small eternity.
"And so, in my desperation and shortsightedness, I gave her what I thought would temp the Prince of temptation." Miara let out a bitter laugh. "Myself"
Gin only stared at her.
Serana's embrace became a bit tighter.
Miara's fingers tightened their grip around her biceps at the memory. All the shame and horror that came with it... Mephala would never let her forget.
How do you describe sex with darkness itself? How do you even begin to explain the sheer terror and hopelessness as the shadows close in around you, with many, many fingers crawling over you like spiders? Eyes blazing red like the Deadlands staring into her soul, and a smile that stretched from ear to ear on a frightening yet... beautiful face.
The act of Mephala's embrace was not a tender one; she felt like a fly caught in a web, and the spider loved toying with her meal... And yet, as much as Miara loathed to admit it, it was also the intensity of the experience, the dread and fear, that made the pleasure all the more powerful.
Mephala, the Prince of Sex, did not leave her unsatisfied. She filled her body with world-shacking ecstasy and her soul with cold terror in a debaucherous act that left her vulnerable. An act that, to this day, the mere memory inspired in Miara shame and arousal in equal measure.
"I thought her... entertaining herself with me was enough for her to let Nelkir go." Her voice came hoarse, "What a fool I was. What a damn naive idiot. I gave myself to the Prince of Plots without specifying what she'd get from me, and she took... more than I gave."
Disgust came on Gin's face, "She raped you."
"Not my body," Miara whispered. Serana held her closer, "But my mind. I didn't find out what she truly did until I was in Windhelm and met an orphan boy named Aventus Aretino. He had fled Honorhall Orphanage in Riften and went back to his family home. He mistook me for the Dark Brotherhood because he had performed the Black Sacrament to summon them. Aventus told me the headmistress of Honorhall, Grelod the kind, was abusing the children there. I asked for proof of those accusations. He showed me his wrists, which were scarred up from being confined to bolted shackles in a small storage room. She used that on all the children to teach them manners." She spat with anger.
"Holy fuck."
"Few times in my life have I ever truly lost control in killing someone. Grelod, I happily murdered in her own office so the kids wouldn't see; it was her assistant who found her and reported her death. Not long after that, I received a message. From the Dark Brotherhood, I stole one of their kills. I was abducted by the Brotherhood leader and brought to a cabin and was given a choice... As much as I wanted to kill Astrid, Mephala made damn certain I didn't. She filled my head with thoughts of familiarity and friendship."
"From then on, I became a Dark Brotherhood assassin. I was anointed as the Listener by the Night Mother herself, who had not spoken to anyone in a century. Who was, in fact, Mephala in disguise."
It was a vile thing to plant feelings that weren't yours, ideas you usually wouldn't have. Mephala made her believe those people were dear friends and family, that they had forged true bonds of fellowship…
Apparently, there had been moments of lucidity. How she almost killed Festus when he casually talked about murdering his wife because she got the bath temperature wrong. Mephala had reigned her in and wiped her memories of it.
Because, of course, the Patron of the Morang Toong had also been behind the Dark Brotherhood all this time, so very fitting of the Prince of Plots…
"I killed many, some who did have it coming... some did not; those were brief moments in which Mephala's influence was slipping. But when the contract for Titus came. My hatred took over. And you saw what happened in the Fade."
Gin nor anyone else would ever forget how they saw the sheer savagery done by Miara for her vengeance against the late Emperor Titus.
It had been her choice, her own volition, to kill Titus and everyone who stood in her way. Because she hated she hated him for giving up the fight against the Dominion and leaving their crimes unpunished. Hated him because he did not seek revenge for her home, for all the lives lost in that horrible war. For letting the Dominion do as they wanted, the empire ever rotting into a carcass of its former self.
Maro, his son Marius, Vittoria, and all the people who were trying to protect them, she killed them without mercy, without sparing them a single thought.
They were just steps in her revenge.
Miara heaved a long sigh, "After that... Mephala had let her hold over me go. And just watched while laughing as I butchered the surviving members of the Brotherhood and destroyed the hideout. She left me Shadowmare as a gift."
She only kept the spectral horse because she could feel its feelings of loyalty to her were genuine. Shadowmere was… a good companion.
"Now I am one of her prized entertainment treasures." Miara growled, "Forever watching me because I will never be boring to her."
Gin remained silent for a moment, "I mean no offense by this, Miara. But what is the point of this story?"
It was Serana who replied, "The point is for you to understand that gaining control will mean fighting against your nature. And that we know what it is NOT to be in control of yourself. Miara fights against her nature constantly; the machinations of a god had overcome her. And I am a vampire; the thirst for blood is not only a compulsion; it is a need. I drink blood to live, but I manage to restrain myself because I'm constantly being well-fed by a willing participant," She said, looking at her beloved. "Were I not drinking Miara's blood, I'm certain Molag Bal would have made my thirst a dozen times worse."
"We tell you this because of two things," Miara took over again. "We know what it is to have those urges. And we know what it is to have that control slip away from us. I cannot promise you an easy solution, and it is not something you'll be able to overcome on your own. You will need help every step of the way until you can finally tame that beast inside."
"Wonderful..." Gin growled, the calming effects of the peace shout starting to wear off. "I'm essentially one of those mad berserkers from the tales. Just raving and hungry for slaughter... I may not have been the 'cheeriest' of men, but at least I was in control of my mind. I was still me."
"You're your own man, Gin. Nobody can take that from you."
Amber eyes glared at the dunmer. "You did."
Miara remained silent, mouth opening and closing.
"She saved your life," Serana stressed in defense of her beloved.
Gin's eyes lowered slightly in remorse as a growling sigh escaped his lips. "I know..."
XxX ~ xx ~ XxX
Sharp took in the foreign surroundings he found himself in. Staring up at an enormous, unbroken Dwarven statue. "Have to say it is like night and day in comparison to the ancient lost Dwemer back home."
"Kind of hard to compare my people with a completely different race, you know," Sereda spoke up, sitting on the ground to rest her ankle. "The only thing we have in common is living underground. And we're still around."
"A fair point." The argonian turned his gaze downward to the dead Hurlock blighter at his feet. His reptilian brow narrowed, "I've seen some twisted things, but nothing like these monsters."
A grunt came from Alistair, "You'll be seeing more the further we go, I'm afraid."
"Well, I'm going to have a story to tell my little sister when returning to the Hist."
"How long will that be?" Brianna spoke up, cleaning her sword beside Marcus.
"When you get back to this, Orzammar." Sharp turned his gaze to the opposite side to see Loke sniffing around him.
Close by, Wynne only partially listened; her mind swirled with countless thoughts that none she could put down, save for the vivid memory of Neria glaring at her with deserving anger. The Senior Enchanter closed her eyes while she sat on some rubble, rubbing her hands down her face. Another image flashed in her mind of Brianna's words earlier.
This was Aneirin all over again.
Her undue meddling once again put her at odds with one of her students. Perhaps she truly was a bad teacher if her second former student now wants nothing to do with her.
How many people was she going to push away? How many times before she finally learned her lesson?
Neria deserved her own life, and Wynne went behind her back to tell the man she was interested in not to pursue her, then she had the gall to tell the young woman, to her face, that she shouldn't have one...
Neria had grown up, forced into a life she did not choose, and the moment she wanted something for herself, Wynne decided she knew better.
She was starting to see why Brianna hated her so much.
Oh, Maker, Brianna. The Amell never hid her opinion of her or any other Enchanter, for good or ill. And Wynne was so certain that Brianna would have chosen a darker path, but when a mage seeks power, that means they'll become a maleficar, right? Bereft of all sense of morality or compassion. Wynne saw Brianna discard a little of herself every day she trained in Tamriel's dark magics, every time she shed a bit of her Circle life with each step of this dark path.
Yet Brianna saved her life because even if she hated her, Wynne was still her comrade. She had acted with duty and responsibility regardless of her personal feelings on the matter. Just because Brianna did not hold her in any high esteem did not mean she was so brutal as to leave someone to die.
Wynne realized she had never truly gotten to know Brianna, never heard her woes, nor felt the pain she went through when the Chantry ripped her from the arms of her family. She just told her to accept it, that it was for the best, and Brianna grew to resent her for it.
Had they been wrong all along? If Tamriel's magics worked differently, could there be a way to make magic in Thedas safer? To ward off demonic influence and better protect oneself against dark magic?
The Senior Enchanter realized she had... never truly asked their Tamriel comrades.
An entire family came to a foreign land on orders from their empire. They went above and beyond the means to aid this group. None of them had to do anything other than report what their seer prophesized and return home. Yet all of them have risked their lives countless times again and again because they refused to let any innocent suffer.
To stop the evil that was the Blight and even bring down Loghain for his actions.
Yet, here stood Wynne, judging them without even trying to learn about their ways. Viewing their methods as profane, they have been nothing but generous, honorable, and Altruistic.
Half of it could be a product of her environment. But the Enchanter knew this was also due to her being close-minded in her decisions.
Wynne stood at a cliff edge of Ostagar beside Miara, gazing at the vast snow-covered forest below. "Why do I recall only blackness when I died?"
"You didn't." The Enchanter turned her head to the Dovahkiin, "Upon your revival, your memory was erased."
Shock bloomed in the human woman's eyes, "Why?"
"The mortal mind can't comprehend coming back to the living world after experiencing the afterlife. No matter how short it was. And if that realm was one of peace, love, and no more pain, returning to a world that is anything but... a person would kill themselves to go back." Miara explained in a solemn tone.
A goddess had revealed a hidden truth that no mortal would ever know. Or supposed to, yet Miara gave it to Wynne instead of silence. Miara had given them all so much, even without prompting or compensation in return.
...
Wynne looked down at her hands. Was it too late to try to change? Could she truly make up for everything and be better?
XxX ~ xx ~ XxX
Sereda knew she was high on pain-reducing potions when she came to miss Faren's dumb jokes and ill-timed comments. Her ancestors helped her; she had come to take strength from his easygoing personality and ability to shoulder any burden with a smile and a disparaging assessment of the situation. Thankfully, she had another would-be joker around to keep her company.
She looked up at Alistair, who stood at her side, giving Sharp-as-Night a look over. "So, lizard man."
"Monkey man," The argonian replied without missing a beat.
Alistair merely smirked, "Are the feathers a fashion statement, or is that what passes for a nice hairstyle to your people?"
"Can't be any worse than your hairstyle."
The Warden snorted, "Perhaps I should add a braid. Grow my hair out and get some bangs over my eyes, perhaps?"
"If it covers more of your face, I'd say it's an improvement."
Sereda shook her head while rolling her eyes as the two laughed. "Interesting way of fraternizing with allies," she said.
"There isn't a better way to get to know someone," Sharp said with what she could imagine was his people's version of a smile.
"Give someone a hard time, see if they can take a joke, and you can get what they're about," Alistair added.
"Like if they're funny or not," The argonian said as a not-so-subtle jab at Alistair.
Alistair just shrugged and smiled, "Take note, Sereda. A good Warden has a sense of humor."
"I think you mean 'need,'" She deadpanned.
Sharp made a false wince, "Ouch."
"Alas, my humor is an acquired taste," Alistair put a hand to his heart in a dramatic manner.
"Uh huh," Sereda nodded, "like bad ale." She spoke seriously, failing to hide her smirk before she, the former Templar, and Saxheel soon chuckled into rousing laughter. Settling down, she lay back on the stony ground. "Stones, I needed that."
"Coming from someone who used to be grimly serious, I learned a sense of humor is a much better attitude to have." Sharp spoke with some wisdom to his words. "Though by how you carry yourself, there is a lot you are going through."
"Was framed by my youngest brother for the murder of our older brother. Exiled and stripped of everything. Now back home and helping said brother who betrayed me."
The argonian looked at her for a moment before glancing at Alistair, who confirmed it with a nod. He looked back as he sat on the ground next to the dwarf, "So why help the bastard?"
Sereda stared up at the rocky ceiling of the Deep Roads, "I'm not doing this for Bhelen. I'm doing this for Orzammar, my newborn nephew, and for the people who have come to be my family when I had no one." Even if her homeland considered her a kin-killer, she would save it without hesitation, even from itself. Because that was the kind of person Sereda was. A warrior who fought for what was right, not for what was convenient. She peered over to Alistair, "Even you."
"I am grateful to hear that," the future king offered a sincere grin.
The dwarven warrior sat back up. "Orzammar is dying. It has been for a long time. One reason is from the Darkspawn; the other is ourselves. We've been trapped in our traditions for centuries without growing as a people. It needs to change." Her eyes turned to Sharp, "Or else we will become like your Dwemer."
"Fused to a giant machine?"
Sereda's brow furrowed as she shook her head, "What?"
"Nevermind," The argonian shrugged. "Sounds to me you're owed some payback. I don't think any of your companions would mind helping with that."
At that, Alistair remained uncharacteristically solemn.
"I've thought about it," Sereda replied with a hoarse tone. "Believe me, I have." Her lips pursed. "But... we need Bhelen, much as I hate it. He'll wring the Assembly into line and push Orzammar to keep up with the times whether they like it or not."
"Hmph," Sharp intoned while crossing his arms. "One's dignity is something that should never be taken or parted with," he said distantly. "Nor should it be tolerated, not when the one who took it draws breath still."
The exiled princess gave him a long, hard look. "Even if I took the revenge I'm owed. It doesn't erase what was done, does it?"
"...No," The lizard's words were heavy, carrying with them traces of a very old pain. "It does not."
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Neria kept a steady walk beside Shale, who seemed to be moving in a partial trance in the direction it felt they needed to go. Though the Golem was still unsure just how it knew the way, the path taken was filled with far less Darkspawn, so it was a small mercy nonetheless. Though with the first for the Tamriel crew to encounter deepstalkers, they were greatly unsettled just by the nasty beasties' mouths.
"And I thought Hunger Daedra were nightmare fuel," Sofie grumbled walking over the corpses once the group brought them down and resumed walking.
Faren shuddered, "Once you see them, you never forget them."
"Necesitaré un baño largo después de esto," Zevran muttered under his breath. "I'll be reeking of monsters for days."
"At least it isn't Illithid slime. Now that stuff was rotten," Sarya declared woozily. In contrast, her Nordic sister was deadpanning.
Confusion danced in Leliana's eyes beside Sofie, who carried her sister, "What is an Illithid?"
"You don't want to know." Her lover stated in a drone.
Oghren grunted, "If we're going where the golem is taking us, I think we might be nearing the Dead Trenches."
"Would the others get there?" Oryrn questioned, keeping his sword arm ready with his sister's greatsword.
"Unless they turned themselves around, nearly all paths connect to the Trenches."
Striding beside the Templar, Sten spoke up, "Will there be Darkspawn?"
"You can bet the Paragon's balls there will be. They have large nests in those areas."
Isobel let out a low hum with a light frown, "Charming." A bark came from Bran, "Don't like it either?"
While Neria's Blight-sense wasn't going off in a way that indicated Darkspawn were near. There was this... awful sensation in the back of her mind. Like a whisper in her ear, mumbled so she couldn't hear the words yet still close enough that the breath made the tip of her ears shiver. That was the closest approximation she could give to this foreboding sensation in her mind.
Like they were only getting closer to an enormous source of Blight, still too far to feel it truly... yet large enough that traces of its presence were already making themselves known.
Maker help them.
The tunnels soon gave way once more to the large open chambers of Ortan Thaig, where ruined buildings actually became a welcome sight as it meant they were finally done with their wandering. They had only been able to navigate through thanks to Oghren's and Faren's Stone Sense and Shale's somehow instinctive knowledge of where to go.
"Praise the gods," Oryrn muttered in relief; the group most welcomed the sight of the large cavern housing a once-thriving settlement.
"The others should be near," Zevran pointed out. "Do we wait for them here or try to find them?"
It just dawned on Neria they were all looking at her to lead them still, trusting her judgment and leadership in the matter. And before she could voice her opinion on what their next move should be, Bran was already barking excitedly and took off in a sprint, too fast to catch up.
"Bran, wait!" She called out for her hound, quickly running after him. "Come back, boy! It's dangerous to go alone!"
But he was not alone for long. The moment he reached the corner of a collapsed building, another mabari came out. The two barked at each other excitedly and circled the other, lunging at each other with playful bites to show how much they had missed each other.
"Wait," Leliana slowly smiled, relief and cheer flooding her voice. "That's Loke!"
The rest of their party soon emerged from where the other mabari was, much to the relief of the others. However, they soon had some surprise from both at the sight of the figures among their respective parties. And a change in one.
"Sarya!" Miara called out, dashing with Serana, to their Nordic daughter carrying their dunmeri one.
The two stopped checking over Sarya as Sofie gently took her off her back with Morrigan and Leliana helping. "What happened?" Serana questioned with concern.
"She broke her arm during the trap set on us. She also received a concussion," Morrigan explained with such a gentle tone it surprised the two mothers. Even more so, seeing the young witch's expression showed true empathy and worry, turning her yellow eyes to them, "Can you do anything?"
While taken aback by the shift in the woman's usual biting personality, they looked over at their daughter, who smiled at her parents.
Neria squeaked, being hugged by Brianna in surprise, "You are okay. You had me scared to death."
The elven mage could feel so much care and worry from her longtime friend and sister in spirit. A growing realization had finally come to her, "You haven't changed at all." Neria hugged Bri back, fighting a few tears.
Amell chuckled, shedding a few tears: "Finally figured that out." The two detachedly looked at each other with forgiving eyes. "Stubborn druffalo."
The former Templar patted Sten's chest. "You look no worse for where I see," the Qunari grunted back.
The other Templar of the group groaned, taking a sit on a stone where Marcus and Loke came to his side, "You injured?"
"Nothing a few potions and healing magic can't fix." His words were heard by Wynne, who started using her art on the Dunmeri man. "Thank you."
A nod came from the senior enchanter before Sharp smirked as he and Isobel came to each other, "Well. Look who is here."
"Call to adventure," Isobel chuckled.
"Though it's always literal with Miara and her family."
Isobel merely smiled and spread her arms in an invitation. Letting the argonian choose for himself, Sharp merely returned a kind smile of his own as he breached the distance, sharing a warm embrace with his friend.
Miara whispered Words of power that seemed to soothe her daughter's mind, gently touching her cheek as she did so. Her vampiric mother made her drink potions that quickly fixed the damage done to her head and arm. The combination of the Voice and magic, with a pinch of motherly love, did wonders.
Sarya merely sighed in relief, leaning her head back in comfort against her nord mother's lap. "I'm okay..." She muttered with a small smile, finally closing her eyes to let herself rest a bit.
The mothers sighed, sharing one last look before Miara stood up, surveying the group as they all caught up with each other. She noticed Zevran, who was more than a little interested in Gin.
"My, what specimen you have become." Arousal seemed to drip from the antivan's words as he traced a hand over Gin's exceptionally sized bicep.
"Hands to yourself, Zevran," Gin advised with a soft growl to his words. "I'm not myself right now."
Sofie walked over, taking a long whiff from the elf. "You were Forged..." She mutters, her gaze shifting between him and her elven mother. "Like I was, mom's blood..."
"He was going to die," Miara said, crossing her arms. "It... wasn't a successful transition."
Sofie's blue eyes widened, her gaze becoming very concerned as she stared at the city elf. "Ah"
"Yeah," He merely muttered, looking down.
"I'll help you out, Gin," Sofie promised. "Us dragonkin, we gotta look after each other."
"I... thank you."
The dunmer Dragonborn sighed; walking away, she passed by her son, who was sitting solemnly in contemplation, lightly leaning against a half-crumbled wall, catching his breath. She placed a hand on his cheek, drawing his gaze. "Everything okay?" She nodded to Marcus who remained at her son's side.
His red eyes shifted to Neria, who was busy speaking with Alistair and Wynne. "It's starting to be, I hope."
Miara merely smiled motherly, "Good." She pulled his head down and kissed his forehead softly.
Then she smiled brightly at another face she hadn't expected to see lately: "Isobel," she said with a bright laugh.
The angel joyfully beamed at her as she ended her embrace with Sharp, joining their heads as they leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. "It's always a pleasure to be with you and your kin, regardless of the circumstances."
"We are all blessed to have you here, sister," Miara replied with affection.
"How were you summoned here?" Serana questioned while running a hand through her elven daughter's hair.
"Sofie," the Breton knight-turned-immortal warrior beamed. "She was able to use the Call of Valor."
A swell of pride came to the Dovahkiin, peering at her oldest, who bashfully rubbed the back of her head. "I didn't even know if I could, honestly."
Faren's steps were brisk, nearing Sereda, who limped over, "What happened?"
"I broke my ankle in the cave-in, " the expelled princess grumbled. " I got fixed, but I will still be hobbling for a spell."
Oghren chuckled close by, "Still tough as a wild bronto, Your Highness."
"And you're still breathing, lieutenant." Too worn down to correct the oaf.
The dwarven man laughed back.
A brow cocked from Marcus, looking at Morrigan, who stood by Sarya and Serana. Seeing the overall change in the witch's demeanor. "What happened to Morrigan?"
The dunmeri Templar grunted, "Her mask came off." His words were not lost on the Cousland, who still looked surprised, "Count on my twin to help bring a person's real feelings out."
Gin's amber gaze was on Sarya as he walked over, "She will be alright?"
A low hum came from the woman in question to look up at Gin, "Oh, so this is when it happens..." Sarya spoke lazily before closing her eyes again.
"Huh?"
Confusion was written on the faces of Morrigan and Gin while a knowing glare came from Serana at her daughter. "Oh boy..."
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Theron stood perched on a broken statue, staring ahead into the Deep Roads, "We're nearing the Dead Trenches?"
"Yeah," Sereda commented, "Legion of the Dead usually has an outpost there near a bridge to a lost thaig."
Once the group had taken a short rest, they all made their way to the Trenches. Shale at the head, whose pace had quickened only slightly. "We are getting closer." Was all the Golem would say, having kept silent the rest of the way.
Neria gripped her arcane sword, "I can feel something."
"I can, too." Alistair quipped with a grim tone and expression.
Brianna felt a bead of sweat roll down her temple as the feeling digging into her brain like a cold needle became stronger still. "Fuck, the Blight... It's stronger. I don't think I've ever felt as much Blight before."
Theron let out an elven curse, his gaze sharp as they stared at the end of the long tunnels where an orange glow awaited them. "I can... I can hear something. Like a song, it's... it's horrible."
Gin, for his part, could only look confused at his comrades. "I'm not feeling anything," he muttered as though he was realizing.
Miara's head snapped in his direction, lips half-open as she stared at him. "At all?"
"No, I don't think I've been feeling the Darkspawn before either," he said. "I was just... Too out of it to notice."
That... Oh dear, that implied a lot.
Honestly, she was certain his fellow Wardens would pay more attention to his words. But the way they were looking dead ahead, with their gazes lost and fear gripping their hearts, they were too overwhelmed by whatever it was they were feeling.
Something more than the Blight was up ahead, and though she could not feel it, her instincts warned her of the sheer danger they were walking into.
It was then a deafening and mighty roar that swallowed all sound within the Deep Roads. A few among the group covered their ears out of pain; their Mabari hounds whimpered, unable to do so. The ground beneath them shuddered by the force alone.
Within moments of the roars, Neria and Brianna shrieked in pain, and Alistair and Theron rasped in anguish, holding their collective heads. The four stumbled while the Dalish almost fell from his scouting position.
Shrugging off the pain in his ears, Oryrn came to Neria, catching her from falling, "What's wrong!" She only screamed with her hands on her head.
"The song!" Amell cried out with pain in her voice. "It is ripping through my skull like daggers!"
"It's screaming so loud!" Alistair kept stumbling till Morrigan caught him before he would have nearly tripped.
Soon, relief came for all of them once the roar had faded and ended. The Wardens gasped as if they were all drowning and now breached the surface for precious air. Sharp groaned, "I know a dragon's roar when I hear one."
It was indeed a dragon roar. Miara, the only one not affected besides Shale, stood firm, staring intently at where the roar came from. There was power in that roar, immense power.
But not from a thu'um.
Sarya wiggled both her ears, "Ow."
Once the Wardens regained their composure, they all shared a paled look. Fear engraved in their eyes. Without another word, they all dashed ahead with as much strength as they could muster, and the other followed. Their lungs quickened with each breath they took as they all finally left the ruined thaigs and came into an utterly monumental cavern that went on for miles. At the base of the cavern was a chasm of nearly equal size that divided the flanks. Connecting the sides was a single large stone bridge.
But that was not what drew the attention of everyone who now stopped dead in their tracks. The blood in their bodies felt like ice as they took in the gigantic figure standing on stones on one side of the chasm. Its scaly form was thoroughly altered by the Blight, the majestic purple scales now half rotten and decayed with open wounds. Its massive wings were frayed and torn. Milky white eyes upon a long-snouted head surveyed the area with rows of jagged teeth and long horns that curled together on the back of its head connected to a long neck. A long tail whipped against the ground with enough force to rattle the area. Found quad-clawed feet racked against the rock.
Neria shuddered so fiercely that her body shook.
Tears dripped from Brianna's cheeks, her eyes wide with dread.
Theron's whole body heaved, unable to look away.
Gnashing his teeth, Alistair tried to steel himself as she glared hard, "...The Archdemon..."
Marcus had never felt the cold terror that gripped him so at the sight of the Blighted dragon. A fear shared by his comrades around him.
"Le Créateur me préserve. Le Créateur me préserve. Le Créateur me préserve," Leliana repeated in a terror filled whisper clutching her necklace.
"By the fucking blood," Serana shuddered, her gaze turned to her lover.
Miara stood as still as a statue. Her brow was up past her bangs, with her crimson orbs fixated on the Archdemon. The lore she had read and heard of the Old Gods of Tevinter were powerful god-like dragons.
Forces of unspeakable nature.
What stood before them was a Sunvaar. There was no mistaking that from a true Dov. But what made her heart grip with unnatural terror was what she felt inside the Blighted abomination.
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