Disclaimer: We do not own the Elder Scrolls or Dragon Age Series
Co-author and Beta: Ethereal-23
The Deep Roads: Horror
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Being an Ada meant your soul was keen to sensing things most individuals could not, like a sixth sense or the ability to feel different types of magic and power that usually went beyond mortal perception.
The Blight horrified Miara in ways few things had. It felt like corruption at its rawest, a disease, a living nightmare, something that twisted life itself because it was born from evil and carried an innate hatred for life. She felt it in the Darkspawn, aberrant twisted grotesques that they were.
And she felt it in the Archdemon.
But to compare a common Darkspawn to the Archdemon was like comparing ants to giants.
The Archdemon, with its borrowed visage of a lesser dragon, was anything but lesser. It stood out like a giant dark flame that seemed to snuff out the light, much like the black and purple flames it breathed out of its gnarly maw. It was like a beacon of corruption that heralded the Darkspawn to its side.
And gods above, there were so many Darkspawn.
Far more than they had seen at Ostagar.
The vanguard of the horde, that's all it had been, the initial assault of strong shock troops to soften them up so the rest of the horde could march on a weakened Ferelden, while the creatures kept gathering from all corners of the Deep Roads.
Miara didn't know if the allies they had gathered would be enough. And the look on her friends' faces told them the same. There were just so many...
Even if Ferelden survived, it would be critically weakened.
The Dragonborn let out a shuddering breath, gulping as she saw the abomination.
There was something else, something tied to the depths of its soul.
Why, in her Mother's name, underneath all that corruption, could she feel traces of divine power?
Why did the Dovahkiin not feel they had enough to face this? She, along with Serana and others in their party, stared downwards into the cavity of the cavern. At the very bowls marched not a horde.
But legions upon legions of Darkspawn. Their numbers were beyond counting. Their snarls and roars echo as they march forward from Genlocks to Ogres. So many marched that the ground beneath them could not be seen.
Even being undead, Serana felt a strong chill of dread wash over her being.
Panic raged through Neria's body, shared by Brianna, who held the other's trembling hand.
Sarya's brow was past her bangs, and her eyes were as wide as possible. Only once has the Dunmeri wizard felt sheer Absolute terror during her certain unexpected misadventure with her dearest swallow. She did not react when Morrigan latched onto her with fear in her eyes.
"We won't have enough to fight that." Dreadful truth came from Marcus's lips, and there was fear in his eyes.
Wynne covered her mouth with a shaken hand.
"Ils sont infinis," Leliana shuddered, holding Sofie's arm.
The Nordic warrior turned to her brother, who looked back. Neither spoke, with only shared fright.
Oghren grunted with a snarl, "Not even home can fight this."
"We are all going to die," Zevran muttered, his chest heaving.
Sten remained steely as stone save only his risen brow.
Sereda and Faren stared in equal horror, but resolution grew in their eyes, "We have to stop this."
"How," Gin raised his voice, looking at the exiled princess. "Not even all of Ferelden could fight a horde this huge!"
Miara kept her gaze on the Archdemon.
The creature continued to let out its unholy roar, though it did not need to command its hordes. The dunmer had the feeling that part of the Archdemon was aware of their presence, namely the Ada, in their mists, but... its focus was still centered on the horde, leading the Blight out of the Deep Roads to invade the surface and destroy everything.
Miara wondered if the creature itself was being commanded, too. Would that explain why there was that fragment of divinity inside of it? Could there be a higher will at work here?
Her questions would remain unanswered, for the Archdemon soon took flight, diving into the Trench and flying over the horde further and further down the enormous chasm until it was out of view. And perhaps too far for its Song to keep affecting the Wardens of their party.
Yet even if they could breathe again (though there was no relief to be found, not with the enormous horde still down there), things were far from over.
"Blood and dust!" They heard the valiant warcry of a dwarven man standing at the front lines of black-armored Legionnaires, who formed rows of armor and shields and positioned themselves close to the great bridge.
The reason was clear: from the other side of the bridge, a war party of Darkspawn drew near; hurlocks and genlocks both swarmed the area and drew closer to the Legion of the Dead.
"Give them our support!" Marcus shouted as he drew his blade.
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A battle axe swung with fury into the chest of a Hurlock by the armored hands of a Dwarven warrior in Legion of the Dead armor. He roared with a predatory smile behind his helmet at the sight of the blighter howl in pain. Kicking the now lifeless monster off, his face becomes like steel and stone for the next wave that charges across the bridge.
Kardol moved as the stone held his body to keep fighting beside his Legion brothers and sisters. They had seen the surge in Darkspawn activity grow more fierce, but the sight of the Archdemon was all that was needed to confirm what they had dreaded.
A Blight, by the Paragon, a fucking Blight...
But they had no time to send word back to Orzammar, not with the Darkspawn having become not just more aggressive but clever, using tactics unfamiliar with their kind. Unlike the rest, their scouts had seen sightings of a blighter—a Hurlock but larger than even an alpha, and rumors that it had been roaming the Deep Roads for centuries.
The Archdemon was at the head of this nightmare.
But a commander was directing the spawn.
The dwarf pushed away those thoughts. They were distractions, and he had an oath to fulfill alongside his fellow legion. Warcries came from a horde of blighted abominations crossing the bridge. More blood to spill this day.
"FUS RO DAH!"
It came from their left, a roar that shook the earth beneath Kardol, the others' feet, and the area itself. His eyes saw countless charging darkspawns being stuck by an invisible force that sent many flying in all directions. At that same moment, a grey-skinned elf in armored black and red cloth and leather with a blue-bladed sword appears with speed never seen before, coming at the remaining blighters with unbridled rage.
She was not alone...
The Legion forces saw the familiar armor of Grey Wardens alongside others, two Mabari hounds, and a golem who joined their fight.
Kardol had only seen magic a few times before when the Warden brought mages among their ranks for expeditions and clearing out the Blighters. Sodding useful it was, he never got tired of the sight of fireballs, lightning, and lights of more colors than he'd seen before in his life, hitting the damn Blighters, scorching and reducing their bodies to piles of mangled meat. It delighted his dwarven spirit to see their longtime enemy destroyed in such a manner, and his berserker blood stirred when fellow warriors joined the fray, with arrows bringing a swift end to the monsters, blades of all shapes and sizes cutting the beast apart and staining the ground with their cursed blood.
Kardol roared, inciting his fellow Legionnaires into a battle frenzy. They charged alongside their newfound allies against the Blight.
The Legion of the Dead fought like people with nothing to lose, for that is what they were. Not even their lives were on the line; those had been forfeit the moment they took the oath. The dead had nothing to fear, no reason to hold back; they jumped into battle with no fear, only the call of duty. They charged as a living wall of steel against the Darkspawn, weakened and in disarray after that display of magic that felt like a dragon's roar.
Kardol growled as he bashed his shield against the legs of a hurlock, then rammed his sword through its throat. Then he went for the next target, a touch hard to do as the monsters were being slaughtered one by one. A genlock charger, one of those monsters that walked on all fours with oversized arms, slammed against his shields, its slobbering maw trying to bite him even if he was covered in armor. Kardol gritted his teeth and held on to his shield with all his strength.
An elf Warden came to his rescue, using a sword made of weird light, of all things. Sodding dumb, who made swords out of light? But it seemed to work, for it cut through the Darkspawn's flesh and left a searing burnt mark over its lumpy hump.
"Warden Neria Surana!" The elf declared, giving a semi-cordial smile.
"You got the Paragon's timing, Warden!" the helmet-wearing dwarf was about to speak some more till he paused, seeing a grey-scaled lizard man in armored leather with axes in each hand fighting alongside Neria's comrades. His eyes grew considerably next to seeing a human woman with golden wings flying over the bridge and raining down golden spears of light against rampaging Darkspawn. "Where in the fucking Ancestors did you find these people!?"
Arcane energy glowed in Neria's free hand, sending blasts of energy against an Alpha Hurlock coming for her and Kardol. "Explain later!" She quickly moved beside the dwarf, his ax and shield at the ready.
Further upon the bridge, Shale's stone fist shattered the skull of a large Genlock who attempted to strike at it with a mace. The golem kicked the lifeless blighter into several Spawns coming at it. Sten's Asala deflected against a Hurlock's greatsword. His warrior's experience is shown through his skill as he tears through the abomination's flesh from the shoulder to the waist cleanly.
"Liz Slen Nus!" Several blighters were turned to frozen figures by Miara's thu'um as her oldest daughter and her vampiric lover shattered them with their respective weapons.
Bran and Loke worked as one, charging and bringing down several Blighters near Alistair and Marcus, who fought with their backs to each other. Spears of divine light flew with speed from Oryrn's hands while Brianna weaved her spells alongside Morrigan and Wynne.
Leliana stood upon a large stone, releasing as many arrows as she could with deadly precision.
Serana moved in a blur of smoke and mist, leaving a trail behind her as her sword moved in masterful arcs, sending dark blood spraying in the air. The holy light of Isobel's and Oryrn's combined efforts burned the monsters to cinders while Sarya's arcs of arcane lightning jumped from Darkspawn to Darkspawn.
Sharp called upon a spectral creature with great wings and a large, sharp beak to swoop down upon the Darkspawn close to the edges of the bridge. Its assault pushed them off so they would fall to their deaths upon the great horde. Morrigan's form had shifted into a large bear, barreling through the creatures and goring them with enormous, powerful claws.
Gin, for his part, was struggling to contain the rage he felt, though it was not as bad as last time. He surprised himself more than anything at the sheer strength of his limbs as his long blades easily carved through the Darkspawn's rusted armor and severed limbs. He felt this fire in his gut like there was something that sought to come out, but he still didn't know how...
He missed moving like a rogue, particularly with how Faren and Zevran darted from place to place in a flurry of acrobatics and swift stabs at the Darkspawn's most vulnerable places. Alchemy and runes made their daggers shine with fire and lightning, scoring multiple kills on their own.
Not to be outdone, the Legion of the Dead was taking their fair share of Blighted monsters with renewed vigor thanks to the surprised aid that came. A war cry came from an armored dwarf woman who brought down his warhammer upon the head of a Genlock. Bone, skin, blood, and brain exploded gloriously and rushed for more to kill.
Time had no meaning for any of them tearing through their enemies before the final Blighter, being an Alpha Orge, was brought down by a team effort and its head severed from its neck by Sten.
Adrenaline rushed through the bodies of many, with their breaths heavy and pulses quickened. Their eyes took in every inch around them for any more coming Spawns, but none came. A low laugh escaped from Kardol behind his helmet, pleased at the small victory, before shouting, "LEGION! SOUND OFF!"
His surviving troops roared victoriously with fists or weapons raised.
Marcus turned to his team, which was collecting their bearings. He gave a brief smile, seeing everyone was okay, save for being slightly exhausted. His eyes soon took the Legion they fought beside, "Who commands this unit?"
Taking off his helmet, Kardol revealed his bald visage with a thick crimson braided beard upon a hardened tattooed face. "That would be me, Kardol. Appreciate the assist!" Nods and handshakes were given between the two groups with quick introductions. "We should be able to get a moment to relax. If only for a moment."
Marcus and the others took the advice, save only Shale, who stood at the center of the bridge, its glowing eyes focused on what was ahead. The Cousland and Alistair spoke with Kardol, with Sereda joining them, while the others rested however they could for the moment given to them.
Standing at one of the sides of the bridge was Miara alongside Isobel and Sharp. Their gazes fixed upon the horde that still marched forward in the divide. "We saw the horrors of the Planemeld and Three Banners War. Daedric Princes attempt to take over Mundus itself. Even a forgotten Prince brought back." The Argonian warrior spoke up. "And every other nightmare one could think of. But this..."
"This is another kind of evil." Isobel spoke next, "Relentless, full of hatred and destruction that does not stop."
"Where this evil comes, I do not know. But the present danger stands before us. And like my brother Reymon, I shall protect these lands and its people." Miara's voice was steely, firm.
"When the time comes to end this Blight, summon me." Sharp looked to his dearest friend.
Isobel nods, "I, as well, want to be summoned. I want to see this Fereldan saved. That Archdemon was brought to heel."
The fire goddess smiled gratefully, "I will." Her face grew stern once more, "And we are going to need more to bring this Blight down."
"Well, I am certain Ardalia and Seravis are bored wherever they are." humor came from Sharp's tone.
"Naryu, Mirri, Tan, and Rathuni. And whatever mischief those four are getting into." Isobel snickered.
And anybody else Miara could get here. But it would have to be once they leave Orzammar. "Still more fighting ahead here and now."
"We're ready." Sharp nods, with Isobel mimicking the motion.
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The group leaders were using the moment of respite to strategize. To say the sheer size of the horde had alarmed them was an understatement. Its numbers dwarfed even the army they had faced at Ostagar. Before panic could set in, they needed to rationalize things.
Marcus frowned as he looked over a map of the Deep Roads underlying southern Thedas; he traced his finger over the area of the Dead Trenches. "The closest exit to the surface following this route will take a few weeks. By then, the Darkspawn will be able to emerge through northern Ferelden," He muttered grimly. "They might even be emerging from the Frostback mountains."
"We don't know how many are still advancing from the south," Alistair added. "The whole area is still unmapped."
Theron shook his head, "All the Blights faced a massive spread of Darkspawn in many regions of Thedas. Yet they seem to be focusing their efforts here?"
"I've asked Sarya to corroborate with her divination," Neria said, her ears dipping slightly. "There hasn't really been signs of the Blight outside Ferelden's region."
Sereda bit back a swear, "The First Blight lasted two centuries; it overcame the dwarven empire before rising to the surface. The Second Blight first emerged from the north in the Anderfells, and then they spread to the Free Marches and then Orlais. It lasted almost a hundred years. By the time of the Third and Fourth Blight, people knew how to fight them more effectively, yet it still led to both lasting over a decade."
Marcus took over, "But those Blights still followed the pattern of emerging from as many sides as possible and extending to all directions. The Second Blight, in particular, had Darkspawn emerge from nearly all the mountain ranges of the continent, while the Third started in central Thedas."
"The Darkspawn are blocking us off..." Brianna muttered with dawning horror. "The Archdemon, it-it's focusing its efforts on Ferelden, directing most of the Horde here instead of assaulting as many countries as it can."
The Wardens could only exchange looks, mounting concern. "The allies we're gathering should give us a fighting chance, but," The Cousland muttered. "Unless we take out the Archdemon soon, we're looking at a decade of fighting. But if we're right and the full might of the Blight is focusing on Ferelden first..."
"Even in victory, Ferelden will be critically vulnerable for years to come," Neria said, her voice low and contemplative. "The casualties from the war, the terrain Blighted, the spread of Blight on the population. If Tevinter or Orlais decide to invade, then... there'll be nothing we can do."
"Assuming we defeat the Darkspawn before the full might of the horde descends upon us," Theron grimly muttered.
Sitting close by on a stone, Miara voiced her opinion, "Tamriel Legion forces will be here within the month. But once we are out of here, I am going to seek more aid back in Tamriel."
Sereda looked over at the Dunmer, "How many will be getting?"
"My Blades and other allies of immense skill and talent. And my sister," She mumbled out the last part. Beside her, her beloved Serana huffed with a faint 'Oh boy' under her breath.
"...Will need more mother," Oryrn addressed, standing close by. "I will go to the Paladins of Saint Alessia. I'll speak with Grandmaster Veronica and Founder Sadron."
Sitting cross-legged on the ground, Zevran turned to Miara, "Think we could get more of your dragons?"
"Odahviing and Durnehviir are enough alongside me."
Worry etched on Alsitair's face, "Kordal mentioned he and the other Legion of the Dead have noticed there is a possible commander to the Horde, second to the Archdemon." His face paled, "A Vanguard who likely led the charge at Ostagar. An Omega Darkspawn."
Eyes turned to the senior Warden, "Take it that is bad?" Serana questioned.
"They are the rarest of Darkspawn. Terrifyingly intelligent with the strength to match it. Duncan said The Wardens have come across three or four since the Warden's founding. And they have been a terror when facing them."
"By the fucking stone," Sereda grunted.
Memories of Ostagar came to the Dragonborn. Images of that towering Hurlock in jagged gold armor and large battle axe. How it fought with not just immense strength but cleverness and speed despite its size. And resistant to magic when she tried to fry the bastard with lightning. "If we run into it, we bring it down. But our focus has to be the horde and the Archdemon."
"Agreed," Marcus nodded.
Neria's lips pursed as she nodded a few times. "We've rested enough. I believe it's time to move on."
"Yeah," The noble said, letting out a soft sigh. "Get everyone prepared; we move in five minutes."
The rest of the party gave him nods as they all parted ways to check on their gear, provisions, and their other companions. Miara meanwhile stood there with her arms crossed, a deep frown marring her features.
"It's good to see Neria so decisive." Her lover's voice spoke up, but Miara did not turn around as Serana walked close. "She's grown up"
"Hmm," Miara gave a noncommittal hum in reply.
Serana's orange eyes shifted with concern at her. "Are you okay?"
"Thinking," The dunmer replied curtly.
"The Archdemon, right?"
"Yeah..."
"Can't blame you; I felt that thing, too. It's like... like a creature that was spawned from Peryite's pits and carries his blessings." Serana shook her head in disgust. "Darkness and corruption to the core"
"...That's not all there is inside," Miara distantly said, causing Serana to look at her confused.
"Miara?"
"It was a spark, a piece, but... still very luminous on its own, Serana." Red eyes turned to face her, carrying great trepidation in them. "Divine energy."
The Nordic vampire's brow rose, "A dovah?"
"No, this is something else entirely. A power that is anchored within that sunvaar." The Dragonborn had begun to pace. "As if it was interwoven into every fiber within the beast."
"What?" The worry coming to Serana's voice grew, hearing her lover's distressed tone.
Miara groaned, "I can't make heads or tails of it. But there is something wrong going on in these lands."
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Upon reaching the other side of the bridge over the Rift, as the Legion calls it, The Wardens and company parted ways with Kardol and his unit, who could now send news back to Orzammar. But also a request to see if they could find evidence in one of the ancient Legion's lost mausoleum they would go through to show they were connected to a Noble House.
Sereda understood the reason and made the promise to search, but they also had to focus on the priority of their mission.
"Don't worry," Miara assured her with a drawl. "Eventually, we'll get back here and complete all the minutiae and minor quests people gave us. We always do."
"You know it's your fault; you always come back for more quests. So don't act all annoyed," Serada pointed out. Having seen the woman practically run all over Redcliffe, Denerim, and Edgehall to help anyone and everyone with their requests. Hell did the same in Orzammar.
"I'm a completionist."
"You're obsessed."
"Your attempts at lightening the mood are appreciated," Morrigan interjected. "But they are far from effective considering our current circumstances."
"Doesn't mean one shouldn't try," The dunmer spoke from experience. "Things will always get worse before they get better. Might as well try to handle things with high spirits."
"'High spirits,'" the recently made Dragonforged snorted, but the sound came out more like a growl. After we saw the size of the horde, we're relying on a fool's hope actually to defeat it." The thought of the horde reaching Denerim, the alienage, made his fists clench.
"I never said it'd be an easy victory," Miara replied. "But I've been through worse things than the Blight... Believe me. It is not a fool's hope. It is only hope."
"Nirn survived the Planemeld, The Warp of the West, The Ash Blight, the Oblivion Crisis, and The Return of the World Eater," Isobel said with certainty. "Ferelden will survive this Blight. On Ebonarm's blade, I swear it so."
"You are just a giant ball of optimism, aren't you?" Faren quipped with a half-grin.
A snort came from Sharp, "Veloise led a charge alongside the Lion's Guard against a horde of invading Daedra from Molag Bal. Outnumbered three to one, and she never lost hope. Even when a damn Daedric Titan showed up." A few from Thedas recalled the lessons on Daedra Sarya provided at Soldier's Peak. "Point is, keep your chins up."
"And we know our target that can cripple this horde." Sofie made her opinion known with steel in her voice. "We bring down the Archdemon."
Alistair heaved a sigh, "Easier said than done. But you are right. But it will be hell to get to it." With the largest horde ever seen, a rare Omega Darkspawn commanded them outside the Archdemon itself. The odds were high against them. But coming to despair would only doom the land he loves dear.
And as the future king, Alistair would not see his home fall to the Blight.
The party soon made their sojourn into the Legion of the Dead mausoleum, which, like many places of the Dwarves, was enormous in scale and well crafted down to the smallest detail. Only Blight Growth and crude Darkspawn objects placed within were the blemishes within this sacred place. To the relief of many, they did not encounter any Blighters, likely due to all that charged at the bridge, which would have given them some moment of calm if not for a stray Shade demon and several undead it controlled that had appeared and attacked them. But they were overpowered by the holy might of many of them.
This wasn't the first time; as Neria spoke at the start of their journey, the veil was thin to the point that anything could come out from Fade down here, including a Pride demon that nearly ambushed them days ago.
Going through the mausoleum, they came upon a broken wall that led further into the Deep Roads. Where Dwarven architecture ended, Darkspawn horrors took its place. Corruption was nearly everywhere they could see, with jagged totems and rough spikes.
"Ugh, the stench," Gin gagged. "It's never been this strong before."
"Those are your sharper senses," Sofie pointed out. "It'll take a while to get used to it."
"Lovely..."
Theron stopped to look at an assortment of broken weapons just carelessly thrown about. He knelt close to pick up the handle of a broken sword, noting the dry blood still staining the remnants of the edge. It had to be at least a week old, given its state.
Hmm, a battle must have happened here recently. Legion? No, they would have been informed if they had pushed this far before.
It was then that he noticed a sigil on the guard, a type of dwarven rune. Theron's green eyes squinted, the sigil tugging at his memory. He let out a soft sound of surprise as he suddenly remembered where he had seen it before.
"Oghren." His voice made the group stop in their tracks as the bright red-haired dwarf turned to face him. "This sigil, I believe it's the same as the one on your axe."
"What? Lemme see!" The dwarven warrior quickly jogged over to him, his armor rattling and clinking as he did so. He took the broken blade from the elf's hands and inspected the symbol. "Sodding hell, this is my clan's sigil. These are our weapons!" He let out a rumbling noise as both concern and relief filled him. "Branka and the others passed through here..."
"Well, we know we're going down the right track now," Brianna commented with her hands on her hips.
Bran and Loke sniffed their surroundings before giving concerned whines to their respective masters. "what's wrong, boy?" Marcus knelt to his hound, petting his head. He took not his hound making whimpering noise with small barks.
"I don't think they like this area," Neria guessed, looking at her mabari, who paced about her. Bran's ears were back, licking his lips with a whining growl.
Miara lightly cursed when absently reaching for Dawnbreaker, only to remember it was gone. "We trust the hounds and keep our senses sharp. If they do not like this area, then there is something we need to worry about, too." The Dragonborn has experience with her pets when traveling during their adventures. If they were spooked, you kept your sword arm prepared for anything.
Staring up at Shale, Faren cocked a brow, "How are you holding up?" The dwarf was met with silence as the golem stared ahead.
"Let's stop sitting here like scared Bronto and move it!" Oghren declared, marching ahead with a quick pace in his steps.
The group followed after him, keeping their guard up. They were very deep into Darkspawn territory, and their numbers had continued to be unrelenting. And so far away from the nearest outpost, without the possibility of rest and call upon reinforcements, it did not paint a positive outcome for Branka's clan.
"They took casualties," Sereda quietly said; she didn't want to rattle Oghren any more than he already was. "If it were me heading the expedition, I would find a place to hunker down and recuperate."
"Hopefully, they did," Alistair replied. "At least we have a trail now." Grim as it was.
Oghren kept saying he saw signs of Branka everywhere, and they trusted him to know his wife enough to tell. But...
Why did they all have this terrible sense of foreboding?
It was as if something horrible had happened, and something even worse awaited them at the end of the trail.
It felt like the air was getting thicker, almost choking, as though it was filled with smoke carrying the scent of burnt flesh and rot.
The smell grew worse the further they went in, and with it, the pressure of that 'feeling' in the back of their minds itching like bug bites.
Miara felt she was hearing a faint buzzing in her ears, her heart drumming in her chest while those honed six senses warned her. Screaming in her head, 'Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong' over and over again.
They all could feel it like they were about to stumble into tragedy itself.
It was the sharp elven ears that caught it first. An echo, a vibration in the stones.
"Can you hear it?" Neria muttered, holding her spirit blade's handle tightly.
"What is it?" Marcus asked, eyes darting from place to place. The hounds looked up, hearing whatever the elves were hearing as well.
"A... voice," Gin slowly said.
It was bouncing off the cracks and fractures in the walls, its words unintelligible and empty, bereft of meaning.
...fea.. east...
The further they advanced, the clearer the words became.
...and wait... your dreams...
A mantra of madness, of pain, and terror.
First day, they come and catch everyone.
Of horror incarnate.
The voice was feminine. What would have been husky was now a dull monotone.
Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat.
A chill ran down the spine of Brianna with frightfulness on the face of Wynne. The group pressed forward as the broken woman's voice echoed once more.
Third day, the men are all gnawed on again.
"That's Hespith," Oghren's eyes bloomed with recognition as he started running into the maze of caverns with the others following.
Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate.
Sarya bit her lip, trying not to feel the fear gnawing at her. Sharp groaned, covering his snout as the foul smell only grew worse as they progressed further. Even being undead, Serana could not hide the shudder as this Hespith spoke her mantra again.
Fifth day, they return, and it's another girl's turn.
Gripping his swords, Marcus pushed through his horror and ran alongside Oghren. Alistair followed suit, though the dread was building as his thoughts turned to something Duncan spoke about in passing.
Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams.
A cold sweat came to Leliana as her body shook hearing those words.
Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew.
The gripe of the Bard's bow was beginning to loosen in her hand.
Eighth day, we hated as she is violated.
Sofie paused mid-stride upon seeing her lover frozen in place. Tears fell uncontrollably from her eyes. Like the wind, the Nord woman dashed to Leli's side with the others taking notice of the redhead woman's distress. "What's wrong?" Miara ran over quickly just as Leliana dropped her bow and fell to her knees, holding her head. "Hey!" The others stopped and turned, hearing Miara's shout.
Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin.
"Ferme ta gueule!" Leliana screamed in Orlesian, "Ta gueule, ta gueule, ta gueule!"
The dragonborn nearly skidded over to her oldest and the former lay-sister, with Serana following. The young redhead rocked back and forth, and she kept speaking in emotionally broken Orlesian. Miara turned to the others, "Keep going. We will catch up!"
"You sure!?" Isobel spoke up with concern.
"Go!"
Now she does feast, as she's become the beast.
"Leli. Leli, I'm here," The large nord woman spoke, keeping her voice gentle yet loud enough to reach her lover. Leliana needed an anchor, something to hold on to in the middle of this storm.
Ragged breaths and pitiful sounds escaped her lips; her hands dripped the sides of her head as red locks slipped in between her fingers. Her eyes were wide and wild, darting from place to place as she relieved horrible memories.
Now you lay and wait, for their screams will haunt you in your dreams.
The horrors the voice spoke of were atrocities beyond description. A horror and pain of such unimaginable cruelty, a violation that no one, absolutely no one, deserved to go through.
Caught at the mercy of monsters, put through such torment and violation.
Leliana knew that horror intimately well.
The mantra repeated itself over and over. No end. No end to the horror. Still trapped there. Still suffering. Still-
"I have you...!" Sofie said, her heart breaking at the sight of her beloved, placing a strong arm around her shoulders as though she could protect her from all the evils of the world with her body. "I'm here, I'll always be here. I swear!"
Leliana sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut, telling herself she was here. She wasn't there; she wasn't in that dungeon anymore, and the cruel guards could hurt her no longer.
But... her mind felt as though she was still locked behind those bars. Her body was bruised and bare, tied up to a table...
The bard let out a soft, high-pitched wail.
Two cold yet very gentle hands held her cheeks, making her look up. Leliana stared into Serana's unnatural eyes, shining not with their usual vampiric intensity but with care and, most of all, understanding.
She knew. She knew better than anyone.
"You survived," the vampire said with conviction, "You are strong. You are alive." She emphasized each word. "You're here with us."
Leliana stared back with tearful sapphire eyes. No words came from her trembling lips, only realization in her features that made Serana nod. Within a moment of a breath, the bard wrapped herself around the undead woman, who held her in return. "Je suis là. Je suis là. Je suis là. Je suis là." Leliana whispered over and over, shuddering with her body rocking.
Serana rested her head on top of the former lay sister's. Her eye darted between her lover and oldest. Miara rested a hand on Leliana's back, rubbing maternally. Sorrow and anger boiled in Sofie as she knew what brought this on.
Leliana thought she had come through it... what Marjolaine's betrayal did to her...
But Sofie knew through her undead mother's experience. One can move forward and heal. But the scars never go away, and the horrors that were done can hit you at any moment.
From words spoken or a sight seen. Anything can provoke this response if the scars of that moment run deep in one's heart and mind.
Sofie quelled her anger. It was no use on a dead woman. Right now, Leliana needed her love and compassion.
"I'm sorry..." Leliana's voice was ragged and cracked as she spoke in common.
"You have nothing to apologize for," Serana responded, "You are safe and whole. You are loved, and no one here will ever hurt you."
Leliana could only give a shaky nod, wringing her hands together and letting Sofie bring her into a comforting embrace.
For now, she was out of the darkness clouding her mind.
But the nightmare was far from over.
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The others had not wandered far; it did not take long to reach the party. The women followed them to a chamber where the absolutely most rancid smell was coming from.
They stepped inside, recoiling in disgust. Miara looked at Sarya, who was retching in the corner of the room, Morrigan hovering over her shoulder in concern. Her darling daughter, so smart and traveled, who wandered into multiple Spheres through the Many Paths and beyond, was sick to her stomach. And she wasn't the only one. Everyone in the party held revulsion in their gazes at the sight before them.
And Miara could not blame them. Even people like her and Serana, who had witnessed some truly foul things in their long lives, still found it in themselves to be disgusted to the core.
There was... meat. Everywhere. Rotten, rancid, Blighted.
Like a macabre storeroom for the Darkspawn to put their food.
Yet perhaps the most horrifying thing was the dwarf standing between it all... feeding.
"First day, they come and catch everyone."
Her voice was dead, toneless, beyond broken. It was she who chanted that maddened mantra.
"Hespith!" The red-haired dwarf of the group stepped forward, recognizing her. "Hespith, it's me, it's Oghren!"
"Oghren.." His name was empty in her voice, like everything about her. Dark blotches spread around her face, and her eyes had almost become milky white. She hung her head to the side, hair caked with mud and blood, just like her clothing. She wasn't looking at him; either she couldn't see, or she didn't make an effort. "No. Not Oghren. Cruelty on myself. Seeing dreams come to life as not to see this."
Who would want to see any of this?
Certainly, not someone who lived through it.
"Maker, she's partway into ghouldom," Alistair muttered, recognizing the signs. Theron's fist clenched as the memory of Tamlen came unbidden in his mind.
Neria's hands unconsciously reached for Oryrn's, he grasped her firmly in return without looking. It was a reaction more than an active thought, like seeking anchorage in the middle of all this. "You know her, Oghren?"
"She was Branka's second," The dwarf said. "Her most trusted assistant"
"D-Do not! Speak her name!" She said with a sudden bout of hurt and anger, breaking through the emptiness in her voice. Yet her expression had not changed one bit, and it remained this Blighted blank mask. "Not here. Not anywhere. No solace to her name. Only pain. Only anger..."
"What... happened to you?" Brianna dared to ask. "To your clan."
"The Darkspawn must feed," Hespith replied, her gaze still dead to the world. "They must... grow. They must... breed. They take us here. The ones who survive. To eat, to make us... eat. To turn us. To... become"
Isobel's features did not hide the deep revulsion in her gaze, "They... breed?" the mere thought of those monsters doing such a thing... "They-they take women and-!?"
A shake came from Alistair's head, "Not like that." His voice was grim, fighting the bile in his throat. "But what happens is still fucking just as worse."
Sereda nodded, holding an armored hand over her mouth. "Broodmothers..." she said with a trembling shudder.
"Sodding... FUCK!" Oghren roared with more curses from his beard-covered lips as he paced before punching a wall with rage. "ALL FOR THAT FUCKING ANVIL!"
Miara knelt in front of Hespith, who turned her blank and possibly blind gaze to her. The dunmer shifted her head to Alistair, "What is a Broodmother?" Bran and Loke paced around, whimpering.
The young man was hesitant for a moment. As if just speaking about it made him sick, but he pushed through it. "Ghoulified women transformed into... into giant monstrous broodmares for the blighters."
"By the Maker," Wynne whispered with terror in her voice.
"For obvious reasons, the Wardens never told anyone about them." Alistair finished with so much disgust on his face.
The dragonborn sharply turned back to Hespith as the dwarf's hands touched her face. As if to study her features, "You feel like fire itself." Her finger went to Miara's ears, "Elf? But you smell like a Dragon?"
Gently taking the dwarf's hands off her and holding them together, "Is everyone dead in your house?"
"Laryn is close by. I wished she had gone first; I was spared... For now... But I will be like her soon. I watched what she became. What I will become." Hespith's milky white eyes stare at the Dunmer. "The men were grounded and crushed into food."
Theron came forward, "And Paragon Branka?"
"...I was her captain, her lover. But she would not listen. She cannot be forgiven... For what she did... For what she has become..."
"What are you talking about?" Oghren's rough voice snapped back at the Blighted woman. "What did Branka do?"
Hespith began stepping back, her head shaking from side to side. "Won't forgive. Never will forgive. Left. Abandoned. She chased her anvil. She let us be food. Let us... become them"
The woman suddenly turned around and bolted faster than they could react. She moved in between the piles of meat and slipped through a crevice in the walls, small enough for a dwarf to pass through. "Hespith, sodding Stone wait!" Oghren called out, running after her. But his bulkier build and heavy armor kept him from fitting through the crevice. "Fuck!"
"She..." Sarya muttered as she rejoined the group with Morrigan. "She said Branka abandoned them. Let the clan behind as bait."
"No, no!" Oghren banged his fist on the wall repeatedly as he ground his teeth. "She couldn't have! I won't believe it!"
"Oghren-"
"I remember a woman whom you could talk to for only a minute and see her brilliance!" The dwarven warrior shouted with rage and grief. "Our clan, our kin! She couldn't have...!" He let out ragged breaths as his eyes frantically darted from side to side. "She couldn't have let them all die..."
A few among them could not help but feel pity for the man. This was his wife they were speaking of. A woman who rose to the rank of Paragon of this age. The stories Oghren told on their journey through the Deep Roads told of a brilliant woman who picked up a forge hammer at three and made an iron badge of a Nug's ear.
Created smokeless coal, which improved forging and prevented deaths of Black Lung.
At another time, Miara could likely called her a friend by all the sounds of it. Branka was a smith first, and everything else came second. But there was always a price when it came to having a brilliant mind.
The corpses of House Branka all around them were made into meat for blighted abominations to feats upon.
"Nous perdons du temps." Leliana spoke, bringing the attention to the others as she began to walk: "Allez. Nous avons un modèle à trouver." She spoke in an eerie calm, not glancing back at the others. Her grip tightened upon her bow.
Sharp was quick to follow with the others catching up. Oghren remained as he stared at the flesh of the people he once called kin. He shook his head as he ran to get to his new comrades.
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Nobody said anything as they continued through the ancient thaig. What could be said? The horrors they witnessed, the sheer monstrosity that had transpired here, left them all speechless. None of them were strangers to war and death by now, but this... this defied any description. It was a nightmare that had no end, and everybody wanted to leave it as soon as possible.
Yet that didn't stop Alistair, in a misguided way to alleviate the sheer severity of the situation, from opening his mouth. "The thing about Broodmothers- Of Darkspawn that is... Well, Wardens have conducted a lot of research on them; Darkspawn don't- they don't have genitals. The ghouls are made to consume Blight to become Broodmothers, so what happened to them wasn't 'exactly'-"
"Shut." The sheer heat in Leliana's voice could have boiled water, "Up. Alistair."
Alistair wisely obeyed.
"You know, nothing will ever replace the horrors of Coldharbour in my nightmares," The argonian muttered. "But the Blight. This? This is a different kind of horror."
"Bal's depravity knows no bounds; his malice comes from his love of torment," Serana said. "The Darkspawn is pure corruption. The Blight seems to exist to mutate and corrupt life."
"It does feel alive," Isobel slowly said. "Just... wrong"
"You can feel the Blight?" Neria questioned.
"Not like you do. It's more like... I can sense evil. This Blight is made out of so much anger and hatred."
As Isobel became an immortal spirit, her attunement to the light made her senses nearly as sharp as Miara's. But all that they felt still left countless unanswered questions. Much to the Dovahkiin's annoyance, Flemeth's words did ring true enough.
She had to find the answers on her own.
Especially since that damn Jill escaped from her. Unable to claim her soul.
A low growl came from Miara, recalling that open defiance enraging her still. But that was a matter for much later. Flemeth couldn't hide from her forever, and there would be a reckoning when found.
The hounds, with their ears reared back and shirt fur raised, let out whimpers and growls. Sten gripped his Asala, "Something evil is ahead of us."
Truth be told, there has been nothing but evil and horrors in these Deep Roads. But none would ever forget what they were about to encounter that would be etched deep in their memories.
"She became obsessed... That is the word, but it is not strong enough. Blessed Stone, there was nothing left in her but the anvil." Hespith's voice rang out around them. "We tried to escape, but they found us. Took us all and turned us."
Oghren gnashed his teeth, shaking his head as she growled.
"The men they killed... They're merciful. But the women, they want. They want to touch, to mold, to change you until you are filled with them."
A chilled shudder escaped the lips of the women in the group, hearing those haunting words from the blighted dwarf. And to their horror, she just kept talking. "They took Laryn. Made her eat the others, our friends. She tore off her husband's face and drank his blood."
The dwarven warrior fought the pain and anger boiling inside him with memories of his clan rushing in like rushing lava.
They went further into the depths, entering a gaping tunnel outside the Thiag they had been in. As they progressed, Hespith spoke once more, "And while she ate, she grew. She swelled and turned grey and smelled like them. They remade her in their image. Then she made more of them."
The Further they went, the more they began to see Blight all over the ground, the walls, and further up, from tendrils to blistering growths, some dead, others alive and pulsing like a heartbeat.
"Come and see... Laryn is waiting..."
They did not want to see it. They did not want to go forth and face the final fate of this woman, of all those poor victims.
But they had to.
So they entered the chamber, filled with corruption and blighted growth.
And saw her.
It wasn't a dwarf, not anymore. It was a monster, a thing.
Enormous in height and exceedingly bulky with bulging fat, multiple tentacles came from the ground, connected to the creature's body. Multiple breasts hanging off its torso like an animal, yet it was long and slug-like. Its arms were stubby in comparison with the rest of its frame. And its face was a twisted grimace of soft bulging flesh and a maw without lips, growling and spitting ichor that dripped over its large body.
"...Maker," Marcus muttered softly. It was the only thing he could say as they witnessed this abomination—this poor victim made to spawn more monsters.
But he found it in himself to give the order, one they were all ready to follow through without hesitation.
"Kill it"
Miara sprinted to the front of the group, making sure nobody would be caught in the blast of her Shout. Unlike Unrelenting Force, this one wouldn't cause any shakes that would threaten to bury them. No, this was a Shout whose use she tried avoiding given its cruel nature... but she felt she had to if they wanted to end this poor creature's horrible existence.
"Krii Lun Aus!"
Marked For Death was one of the most painful shouts. It weakened the target's lifeforce, weakened armor, made skin tear like paper, muscles soften and bruise easily, and bones turn brittle like glass. She had seen people break just under the weight of this horrible shout.
The Broodmother wailed horribly, struck by the effects of the Shout. She imagined it was only slightly better than the torment she had endured at the Darkspawns' hands.
She wanted to kill this thing, desperately, not out of hate or anger but because it was the only mercy they could afford.
And so they struck, all of them, relentlessly and without hesitation.
As countless tendrils went to attack the group, their speed was slow and sluggish due to Miara's shout, which made it easy for the party to hack and cut the tendrils as they came at them. The Broodmother shrieked in pain as blades, teeth, claws, arrows, and spells were striking every inch of its body.
Much as it attacked with fury, it was heavily weakened by Miara's thu'um.
With all the rage and frustration that surged through Oghren, all he could do was roar as he swung his axe into what was once Laryn. The memories of who she once was flooded his mind. A strong but kind woman who had been a rock for many of their clan. Who always had the right words to say that held such wisdom.
Her husband Budrin was nearly as stubborn as he was. But he could make anyone laugh, even Branka.
Oghren's tears ran from his cheeks as he kept hacking and cutting.
As everyone moved around her, Leliana stood perfectly still as she raised her bow with a single arrow ready to be launched. Her arms moved as her eyes focused on the target she aimed for. Her breathing was steady and even, and her heartbeat was calm. Sarya and Serana launched several ice spikes that immobilized several tendrils and the Broodmother's arms.
It screamed so loud it hurt the ears of some of the party that there was nothing but silence. Everyone paused as they saw a single arrow in the monster's now-slumped head. The rest of the large body went limp like a puppet. Eyes turned to Leliana, who struck true with her bow.
"Trouvez votre paix." Leli's voice was cold but held sympathy lowering her bow.
Hearing the sound of steps, a few turned, ready to attack, only to see Hespith walking up to them. The blighted dwarf stared at the corpse of the woman that was once Laryn. "That's where they come from. That's why they hate us. That's why they need us. That's what they take us… that's why they feed us."
She looked upon its corpse with her milky, dead eyes.
"But the true abomination is not that it occurred… but that it was allowed." Her voice grew thick. "Branka… my love…" She uttered the name with pain and heartache as if desperately wanting to know why she had allowed this.
She turned to the others as Serana knelt before her, her father's katana trembling slightly under her grip.
"The stone has punished me Dream-Friends. I am dying from something worse than death… Betrayal"
Serana plunged the blade into Hespith's chest and ended her nightmare.
Hespith did not even cry out in pain, with blackened blood now pouring from her wound and the corner of her lips. Pulling out her blade, Serana's free hand held the now dying woman to lay her on the ground gently.
Hespith stared up at the undead Nord, who knelt beside her. "...Thank you..." the dwarven woman whispered, closing her eyes and becoming still.
Serana remained silent. She closed her eyes in respect and soon stood, turning to the others. None spoke while Isobel, Oryn, and Miara set the two corpses ablaze in golden fire. Ensuring none of the Blighted bastards could do anything else to these poor souls. Oghren shook with his emotions going in every direction. Grief, anger, and guilt were the strongest as he watched the bodies of his clan turn to ashes.
No words were said as they all moved forward. To find the anvil...
... And Branka…
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