Gorim, Oghren, and Shale trudged through the endless, twisting tunnels of the Deep Roads, their torchlight flickering weakly against the ancient stone walls. The oppressive silence stretched around them, broken only by the occasional drip of water and the faint echoes of their footsteps.
Oghren squinted at the map in his hands, a battered parchment covered in faded lines and annotations. "I've been down here plenty of times before," he muttered, tracing a finger over the smudged ink. "But the damn tunnels keep shifting. It's like the Stone's trying to mess with us."
"You're sure we're not going in circles?" Gorim asked, his shield strapped tightly to his arm as his eyes darted to every shadow.
"I'm sure," Oghren replied, though his tone was less confident than his words. He grinned faintly, the gesture more habit than humor. "Trust me, Gorim. I might be drunk most of the time, but even I can read a map. Sometimes."
Shale, walking several paces ahead, paused and turned its massive stone head toward them. "It seems the Stone is not the only thing shifting. There is… something here."
Gorim frowned. "Darkspawn?"
"No," Shale replied, its crystalline eyes glowing faintly. "Something else. Something… familiar."
Oghren snorted, tucking the map into his belt. "You've got a funny idea of what's familiar, Shale."
"It is not a feeling I can explain to a fleshy creature," Shale said, its tone cool. "But it pulls at me. The way a bird might feel drawn to the sky."
Gorim raised an eyebrow. "That's poetic for a pile of rock."
Shale rumbled faintly, the sound almost like a growl. "Perhaps it is your 'bird-like' wit that keeps us wandering."
Campfire Reflections
After hours of walking, the group stopped to rest in a small alcove off the main tunnel. Gorim lit a small fire, its light casting flickering shadows across their tired faces. Oghren took a long swig from his flask before leaning back against the wall with a sigh.
"You know," Oghren began, his voice quieter than usual, "these damned tunnels bring back memories."
"Good ones or bad ones?" Gorim asked, tossing a piece of dry wood onto the fire.
"Both," Oghren replied, staring into the flames. "Mostly Branka."
Shale tilted its head. "The one you refer to constantly as your 'beloved Branka'? The same one who abandoned you to chase her ambitions?"
Oghren chuckled bitterly. "That's the one." He swirled the contents of his flask, watching the liquid catch the firelight. "She wasn't always like that, you know. Back when we first got hitched, Branka was… something else. Smart as a whip, always scheming, but not in a bad way. She wanted to make things better. For the casteless, for Orzammar."
He took another sip, his grin fading. "But then the Assembly turned her down. Said her ideas were too dangerous, too radical. And that's when she started looking to the Deep Roads for answers. For glory."
"Yet you still followed her," Gorim said. "Why?"
Oghren's gaze softened, and he shrugged. "Because I loved her. Because I still love her, Stone help me. Even after all the fights, all the times she shut me out, all the times she put her damn ambition ahead of everything else—I never gave up on her."
Shale studied him, its glowing eyes unblinking. "Love. Such a strange and inconvenient concept. Yet, you cling to it."
"Damn right I do," Oghren said, his voice firm. "Branka's the best thing that ever happened to me, even if she doesn't think the same about me anymore." He leaned back with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. "Maybe I'm an idiot for it, but I've never been able to let her go. And if there's even a chance she's still alive, I'm not stopping until I find her."
The group fell silent, the fire crackling softly between them.
The Stone's Pull
After a restless sleep, they resumed their journey, following the faint markings on Oghren's map. As they walked, Shale began to lag behind, its steps slowing as its head tilted toward the tunnel walls.
"Shale?" Gorim asked, stopping to look back. "What's wrong?"
Shale didn't answer immediately. Instead, it placed a massive hand against the wall, its crystalline eyes glowing brighter. "The Stone… it is calling me."
"Calling you?" Oghren asked, frowning. "Like that Titan nonsense from before?"
"Not quite," Shale said, its voice quiet and almost reverent. "It is a memory. A faint echo of what I once was. It pulls me forward."
"Well, as long as it's pulling you in the same direction as the map," Gorim muttered, motioning for them to keep moving.
The Edge of Caridin's Cross
Hours later, the tunnels opened into a vast chamber, its scale dwarfing anything they had seen before. Massive pillars stretched upward, disappearing into the darkness above. At the far end of the chamber, a massive stone bridge spanned a wide chasm, leading toward an ornate gate etched with glowing lyrium veins.
"Caridin's Cross," Oghren said, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and unease. "We're close now. Branka must've come through here."
Gorim stepped forward, his shield at the ready. "Stay sharp. If she made it this far, so did other things."
They crossed the bridge cautiously, their steps echoing in the still air. As they neared the gate, a figure emerged from the shadows, hunched and frail.
The group froze, their weapons raised, but the figure made no move to attack.
"Wait," Gorim said, lowering his blade slightly. "That's not Darkspawn."
The figure stepped into the faint light of their torches, revealing a gaunt, hollow-eyed dwarf. Her hair hung in matted tangles, and her voice was low and broken as she whispered, "They watch. They hunger. They… take everything."
Oghren's breath caught. "Hespith?"
The dwarf's haunted eyes locked onto his, her lips curling into a grim, bitter smile. "You shouldn't have come here," she said, her voice trembling. "The Anvil… the Anvil demands blood. And Branka… she has given it willingly."
Oghren stepped forward, his heart pounding. "Where is she? Where's Branka?"
Hespith's laughter was cold and brittle, echoing through the chamber. "You'll see," she said, her eyes glinting with a madness born of pain. "But you'll wish you hadn't."
The group exchanged uneasy glances as Hespith turned and shuffled toward the gate, her voice fading into a mournful song that sent chills down their spines.
"She's leading us to her," Oghren said, gripping his axe tightly. "We're close now. Branka's just ahead."
But as they followed Hespith into the depths of Caridin's Cross, a sense of foreboding settled over them, heavier than the Stone itself.