The Mirror

The chamber was enormous, its ceiling disappearing into the darkness above. Statues of elven gods stood in solemn reverence around the room, their finely detailed hands raised toward the center, where a massive mirror stood on a raised platform. The mirror's surface shimmered faintly, though it was dark, and its ornate frame was etched with elven runes and symbols.

"What is this place?" Leliana whispered, her voice barely audible as her eyes swept over the room.

"A relic," Zevran murmured, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "An ancient one, and not the sort you want to disturb."

Tamlen stood at the base of the platform, staring at the mirror with an intensity that bordered on obsession. He muttered something under his breath, his voice low and guttural, the words incomprehensible to the others.

"Tamlen?" Alistair stepped forward, his shield raised cautiously. "What are you saying?"

The elf didn't respond. He continued to mutter in the strange language, his trembling hand reaching out toward the mirror.

"Tamlen, stop!" Leliana shouted, her voice echoing through the chamber.

But Tamlen didn't stop. He stepped onto the platform, his gaze fixed on the mirror as he spoke louder, the unfamiliar words spilling from his lips like a chant. The mirror began to glow faintly, its surface shifting as though made of liquid.

"What's happening?" Cullen demanded, raising his sword.

"I don't know," Alistair replied, his voice tense. "Tamlen, get down from there!"

The mirror pulsed with light, and the hum that had followed them throughout the temple reached a deafening pitch. The liquid-like surface began to ripple, and Tamlen's trembling body seemed to be drawn toward it.

Tamlen turned back for the briefest of moments, his bloodshot eyes meeting Alistair's. "Can't… stop…" he rasped. "Must… go…"

Before anyone could stop him, Tamlen stepped through the mirror. The surface rippled like water, and in an instant, he was gone.

The chamber was silent, the kind of silence that pressed against their ears and filled the space with an unnatural weight. The mirror's glow had faded, its surface once again still and dark, like an unbroken lake at midnight. The group stood frozen, their weapons lowered but their breaths uneven.

"What just happened?" Cullen asked, breaking the silence, his voice tight with both confusion and unease.

Zevran stepped forward cautiously, his sharp eyes fixed on the mirror. "If I had to wager a guess," he said, his tone thoughtful yet grim, "I'd say our dear Tamlen has stumbled into a place few return from. Elven legends speak of mirrors that act as gates—to where? That depends on the story. The Fade, perhaps. Or somewhere far worse."

"The Fade?" Alistair repeated, his grip tightening on his shield. "If he's in the Fade, then how could he return?"

"Not quite the Fade, Warden," Zevran said, gesturing to the mirror with one of his daggers. "This is something older, more… deliberate. A relic of the ancient elves, I'd wager. An eluvian, perhaps?"

Leliana tilted her head, frowning. "I've heard of eluvians. But aren't they supposed to be destroyed? All of them shattered long ago?"

"Clearly, not all," Zevran said, his voice tinged with irony. "Though this one seems… temperamental."

Alistair turned back toward the mirror, his jaw set. "Maybe we could try and ask the mirror nicely if—"

Before he could finish, the mirror's surface pulsed once more, glowing faintly before rippling like liquid. The hum returned, softer now, but enough to send a shiver down their spines.

"Something's happening," Leliana whispered, her hand reaching for her bow.

The light from the mirror grew brighter, and with a final ripple, Tamlen stepped through. His body wavered as he stumbled forward, collapsing to his knees with a soft thud.

"Tamlen!" Alistair rushed to him, kneeling by his side.

The group stared in stunned silence. Tamlen's hands, once clawed and twisted by the Taint, were now smooth and normal. His skin, once gray and marred with black veins, was unblemished. Even his face, once feral and distorted, was calm and youthful, his Dalish tattoos clear against his skin.

"The Taint…" Leliana breathed, her voice filled with wonder. "It's gone."

Alistair checked Tamlen's pulse and leaned closer, relief flooding his features. "He's alive. Unconscious, but alive."

Zevran crouched down beside him, inspecting Tamlen's hands with a raised brow. "Curious," he murmured. "Whatever magic resides within that mirror, it seems it can do more than harm. The Taint is gone, erased entirely."

"Erased?" Cullen said, his tone skeptical. "That's not possible. The Taint doesn't just disappear. It consumes until there's nothing left."

"Well," Zevran replied with a faint smirk, gesturing to Tamlen, "I would say he is evidence to the contrary, no?"

The group lingered in the chamber, the tension still palpable despite Tamlen's miraculous transformation.

"What do we do now?" Leliana asked, her gaze shifting between Tamlen and the mirror.

Alistair sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We can't take him deeper into the temple. He's in no condition to fight, and Maker knows what else is waiting for us in here."

"We need to get him back to the Dalish," Cullen said firmly. "Zathrian might know what to do—or at least keep him safe while we finish this."

Leliana hesitated, her brow furrowed. "But we need Cullen here. If we split up, we'll be short-handed if we encounter more werewolves or demons."

Alistair nodded, but his gaze softened as he looked at Tamlen. "We don't have a choice. Tamlen can't stay here, and if we leave him alone in the camp, who knows what could happen?"

Zevran stood and stretched, his tone light but laced with practicality. "It's simple, then. The templar takes the poor elf back to the Dalish camp. We'll finish what we started."

Cullen shot him a glare but didn't argue. Instead, he knelt and carefully lifted Tamlen, draping the unconscious elf over his shoulder. "Fine," he said, his voice gruff. "But you'd better make it out of here alive. All of you."

"We'll see you back at the camp," Alistair said, placing a hand on Cullen's shoulder.

Cullen nodded and turned toward the corridor, casting a final glance at the mirror before disappearing into the shadows with Tamlen.

As the sound of Cullen's footsteps faded, the chamber grew quiet once more. The mirror stood at the center, its surface still glowing faintly, as though watching them.

"What do you think happened to him in there?" Leliana asked, her voice hushed.

"I don't know," Alistair admitted. "But whatever it was… it healed him. I didn't think anything could cure the Taint, but now—"

"It raises more questions than answers," Zevran finished for him, his golden eyes narrowing.

Alistair sighed, gripping his sword. "Let's keep moving. We still have to find out what's at the heart of this curse."

The group turned toward the next passageway, their steps hesitant but resolute. The mirror's faint hum followed them as they left the chamber behind, the mystery of its power lingering in their minds.