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"Let's see about getting Samson back to—" Bridget had barely gotten the words out when Varric called her name sharply. She spun around, watching as a raven flew up, up, to the top of the long stairs, where the slender figure of the elf Abelas stood.

The raven reached the top and was Morrigan.

Bridget began running, taking the stairs two at a time in order to get there faster. "Morrigan, stop!"

Reaching the top, she braced her hands on her thighs, breathing hard. Dorian was only a few steps behind her. "Morrigan, whatever your plan may be, it seems … foolhardy."

She lifted her eyebrows at him, then turned to Bridget. Behind her lay the well, a deep pool of crystal blue water. "You heard his parting words, Inquisitor. The elf seeks to destroy the Well of Sorrows!"

Abelas was watching all of them, poised to move at the faintest sign of one of them approaching the Well. "I will do what I must to keep it from your grasping fingers. Better it be lost than bestowed upon the undeserving."

"Fool! You would let your people's legacy rot in the shadows! And who are you to determine the deserving?"

"It is my task to do," he reminded her.

"Corypheus needed Samson to use the Well. Without him, there is no 'vessel' to claim it." Bridget didn't see why there needed to be an argument. They had stopped Corypheus—that was all they had come here to do.

Morrigan shook her head. "The moment we leave, he will send more forces to secure this place. You must see that." She took a step toward Bridget, speaking with urgency. "The Well clearly offers power, Inquisitor. If that power can be turned against Corypheus, can you afford not to use it?"

Bridget's hands covered her abdomen. Time was running short. All too soon, the child within her would slow her down, compromise her ability to fight Corypheus. If they didn't achieve a victory quickly … who was to say whether they could achieve one at all?

"Do you even know what you ask?" Abelas hissed. He, too, turned to Bridget. "As each servant of Mythal reached the end of their years, they would pass their knowledge on … through this." He gestured to the Well. "All that we were; all that we knew. It would be lost forever!"

"You believe it is better that knowledge remains in the Well, never to be used, never passed on? You would rather destroy it?" Morrigan demanded.

She made a good point. If the knowledge contained in the Well could help, could defeat Corypheus … "Abelas, Corypheus threatens the entire world," Bridget said. "If he cannot be stopped—then it won't matter what knowledge lies in the Well, because no one will be left to learn it. Or to protect it. Look at what his people have already done to yours. If you—if you will allow us, we will use the knowledge of the Well to the best of our ability to end this war, to preserve everything that your people are and have been. You have my word."

He studied her, his dark eyes boring into hers. At last, he sighed deeply, bending his head. "You have shown respect to Mythal, and there is a righteousness in you that I cannot deny. Is that your desire? To partake of the vir'abelasan as best you can, to fight your enemy?"

Her hand traveled to her abdomen again, protectively. To take on the knowledge of the Well herself was a risk she couldn't afford to take, not without knowing how it would impact the child. She looked at Rainier, who put a hand out, warm and strong on her lower back. He would abide by her decision. "Do we have your permission to name our vessel?"

Abelas looked from her to Morrigan and back. "One does not obtain permission. One obtains the right. As you have. But be aware." Those dark eyes were fixed on Morrigan now, urging her to listen and understand. "The vir'abelasan may be too much for a mortal to comprehend. Brave it if you must, but know this: You shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal."

Morrigan, being Morrigan, snorted at this. "Bound? To a goddess who no longer exists, if she ever did?"

"Bound, as we are bound." He looked again at Bridget. "The choice is yours."

"Is it possible this Mythal might still exist?" Rainier asked.

"Anything is possible."

"Elven legend states that Mythal was tricked by Fen'Harel and banished to the Beyond."

Abelas snorted in his turn. "'Elven legend' is wrong. The Dread Wolf had nothing to do with her murder."

"Murder?" Morrigan asked sharply. "I said nothing of—"

"She was slain, if a god can truly be. Betrayed by those who destroyed this temple. Yet the vir'abelasan remains—as do we. That is something."

"What will you do now?" Bridget asked him.

He tilted his head to the side, considering. "Our duty ends. There is no purpose in remaining here."

"The Imperium went to great lengths to expunge elven history," Dorian said. "You might be the last to know the truth."

"Would the elves of your lands listen to the truth?"

"They might. Would it hurt to try?"

Abelas studied Dorian, then sighed. "It very well may, shemlen. Yes." He looked at Bridget again. "It may be that only uthenera awaits us. The blissful sleep of eternity, never to awaken. If fate is kind."

"You could come with us," she suggested. "Fight Corypheus. He killed your people."

"We killed ourselves," Abelas corrected. "Long ago."

He turned to go. Bridget watched him helplessly, feeling that something here had been left undone. Dorian felt as she did, she could tell, but Rainier moved closer to her. "Let him go. He has lost his will to live. He will either find a new one, or he won't."

Morrigan was looking into the Well, Abelas seemingly forgotten. "I did not expect the Well to feel so … hungry."

Bridget couldn't feel it; she rather suspected Morrigan was imagining it. "You don't think that's a concern?"

"Knowledge begets a hunger for more." In a stronger voice, she continued, "I am willing to pay the price the Well demands. I am also the best suited to use its knowledge in your service. Of those present, I alone have the training to make use of this. Let me drink, Inquisitor."

"You're not concerned about the price? 'Bound forever to the will of Mythal'?"

"Bound to the will of a dead god? It seems an empty warning. Perhaps a compulsion yet remains—who can say otherwise? I do not fear it, even so."

Varric muttered something about pride and a fall, but Morrigan paid no attention to him.

Rainier spoke softly in her ear. "I won't lose you, not like this. Let the witch use the Well."

Bridget saw no reason not to. As far as she could tell, this was the price of whatever assistance Morrigan would be providing them, and she had no intention of using the Well herself. She nodded to Morrigan, who turned with a triumphant smile to face the crystal clear water.