The Curse
The soft light of morning filtered through the thick canopy of the Brecilian Forest, casting the Dalish camp in hues of green and gold. The group gathered before Zathrian's aravel once more, where the Keeper awaited them. His expression was calm, his posture composed, yet the weight of centuries seemed etched into his features.
"You are prepared to begin your task?" Zathrian asked, his piercing gaze sweeping over the companions.
Alistair stepped forward, his stance confident yet respectful. "We are. But we'd like to know more about what we're walking into. What can you tell us about these werewolves and the curse they carry?"
Zathrian nodded, folding his arms as he began to speak. "The werewolves are no ordinary beasts. They are cursed creatures, once human but no longer. They are bound to this form by ancient magic, their minds torn between man and beast. Their leader, Whiterfang, holds sway over them. He is as fierce as he is cunning, and he has led them in many attacks against us. He must be dealt with if the curse is to be broken."
Leliana tilted her head, her voice thoughtful. "And breaking the curse will free your people from its effects?"
"Yes," Zathrian said firmly. "The curse spreads through their bite, infecting my people and turning them into what you have seen—the afflicted, writhing in pain. The only way to stop it is to end the werewolves themselves."
Alistair frowned slightly but nodded. "We'll do what needs to be done. Where can we find them?"
"The ruins deep in the forest," Zathrian replied. "It is their lair, a place they defend fiercely. You must enter it, defeat them, and ensure the curse's end. Only then can my people be free."
There was no trace of hesitation in Zathrian's voice, and though the group shared uncertain glances, none of them questioned his resolve.
After speaking with Zathrian, the group was met by Lanaya, the Keeper's apprentice, who would guide them to the edge of the ruins. Lanaya was young, her features soft and kind, though her demeanor carried a quiet wisdom. Her auburn hair was tied in an intricate braid, and the tattoos of the Dalish adorned her cheeks in delicate lines.
"I will take you as far as I can," Lanaya said, her voice steady. "The forest beyond this point grows treacherous, and the werewolves are ever watchful."
As the group followed her through the dense woods, the sounds of the Dalish camp faded behind them, replaced by the whisper of leaves and the occasional bird call. Lanaya walked with purpose, her steps light but sure.
"You seem… different from the others," Leliana said after a time, her tone curious.
Lanaya glanced over her shoulder, smiling faintly. "Perhaps because I was not born among them. I was born among humans, raised in one of their villages. My family hid our heritage, but it did not protect us. When my magic began to manifest, the villagers turned against us. My parents were…" She paused, her voice faltering for a moment. "Zathrian found me before it was too late. He brought me here, and I have been his student ever since."
"You must think highly of him," Alistair said.
"I do," Lanaya replied with a nod. "He has taught me much—not just about magic, but about leadership, about strength. He carries the weight of centuries, and through him, our people have endured. I hope… that one day, I can live up to the trust he has placed in me."
"Centuries?" Cullen asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes," Lanaya said simply, glancing back at him. "Zathrian is far older than he appears. He has uncovered many of the secrets of the ancient elves, including their knowledge of extended life. It is through his wisdom that our clan survives in these times."
Zevran, who had been walking in silence for much of the journey, finally spoke. "The Dalish are lucky to have him—and to have you, it seems. I… I wonder what it would have been like to grow up among your people. My mother was Dalish, or so I've been told, but I have no memory of her."
Lanaya looked at him with quiet sympathy. "The Dalish have lost many to the world beyond these forests. I am sorry you were taken from us."
Zevran offered a small, bittersweet smile. "As am I. But I suppose it's better not to dwell on what might have been."
They reached a clearing where the forest grew darker, the trees gnarled and ancient. The air here felt heavier, as though the forest itself were watching them. Lanaya stopped, turning to face the group.
"This is as far as I can take you," she said softly. "The ruins lie just beyond. Swiftrunner and his pack will not make it easy for you to enter, but you must. The fate of my people depends on it."
Alistair nodded. "Thank you, Lanaya. For guiding us this far."
Lanaya smiled faintly, her gaze lingering on the group. "May Mythal guide your steps. And may you find the strength to see this through. I will return to the camp and ensure the Keeper knows of your progress."
With a final nod, she turned and walked back toward the Dalish camp, her figure disappearing into the trees like a shadow.
The group stood in silence for a moment, taking in the foreboding atmosphere of the forest around them. The ruins loomed ahead, hidden somewhere in the dense foliage, and with them the promise of a battle that would test them all.
"Well," Alistair said finally, gripping the hilt of his sword, "no time like the present."
The others readied their weapons, their expressions resolute. Together, they stepped forward, into the shadowed grove where Swiftrunner and his cursed pack awaited