For a long time, all they could hear through the crystal were the indiscriminate sounds of fighting, spells buzzing and swords clashing. At one point, they heard a voice cry out in surprise.

"Maker…it's Knight-Captain Denam! What-" and then the voices became unintelligible once more. A few minutes later, everyone was out of the tunnel, but Cullen urged them all to press on. The dragon's screech echoed from the crystal, which encouraged everyone to walk just a little faster, although the snow was getting deeper the further they went. A loud cracking sound burst from the crystal, making everyone nearby flinch.

"Is it broken?" Fae asked in dismay, but Dorian shook his head. "That wasn't the crystal. But it's gone quiet." Almost as soon as he'd spoken, the dragon's hisses and snarls began translating through the crystal once more, followed by the deep, rumbling voice of a man.

"I can't make out what it's saying," Cassandra barked. "Can you amplify it somehow?"

Dorian waved a hand over the crystal, and suddenly everyone could hear the voice reverberating loudly through the crowd. It caused the line to hesitate for a moment, but Cullen ordered them all to continue forward. They did, but everyone's attention was on the voices of the Herald and the stranger now.

"What are you? Why are you doing this?" Ellethir's voice echoed angrily.

"Mortals beg for truth they cannot have. It is beyond what you are, what I was. Know me, know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One, the will that is Corypheus," the voice growled. "You will kneel."

"Why are you forcing this fight?"

"You will resist. You will always resist. It matters not. I am here for the Anchor. The process of removing it begins now. It is your fault, Herald. You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose. I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as 'touched,' what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens."

There was a crackling sound, and Ellethir cried out.

"And you used my Anchor to undo my work," the voice that called itself Corypheus continued. "The gall!"

"You killed the Divine for this? Why? For this chaos?"

"This chaos will empower me, and ensure we no longer beg at the feet of the invisible."

There was a few moments of silence, and then the voice of Corypheus came back even louder than before.

"I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty."

Everyone had stopped by now to listen. "Flare," Cassandra commanded, and a scout let fly a red flare into the night sky.

From the crystal they heard the Herald gasp, and cry out, and then there was an indecipherable thump.

"The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling. So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation—and god—it requires. And you. I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die."

Finally, they heard the Herald's voice again. "You expect us to surrender and kneel. We will not. You'll face us all. When we choose!" A chain rattled, and a crash that didn't come from the crystal echoed in the distance. Several people pointed and murmured worriedly amongst themselves.

"She set off the avalanche," Fae exhaled.

"She sacrificed herself for us."

"Just like Andraste."

"She might have survived. Andraste sent her to us for a reason."

"What reason, if not this?"

"Could she have survived that?"

The sending crystal had gone completely silent, but in its place, chatter filled the air as Cullen gave the order to keep moving. They only managed to walk another thirty minutes or so before the healers among them insisted they set up camp and tended to the injured they might soon lose otherwise.

For the next couple of hours, Fae answered as many calls for a healer as she could. She could staunch bleeding, force the nastiest bruises to pale in advance, and direct power into the true healers to aid in their work, but not for long. She was exhausted like everyone else, and when a healing potion had to be quickly snatched from her shaking hand before it could spill everywhere except into the patient's mouth, she finally conceded defeat, moving a few paces away before allowing her legs to give way under her.

She watched a scout hurry over to Cullen, who marched out of sight around the sheer rock face the camp was hidden behind.

"There, it's her!" she heard Cullen cry out.

"Thank the Maker!"

Fae laughed weakly, allowing herself to lie back on the ground. "She's alive," she mumbled. "Thank fuck."

Once it had been established that the Herald had only sustained minor injuries and was otherwise safe, the Inquisition's small council set about doing what it did best; argue. Ellethir fell asleep listening to the bickering while her cuts and bruises were being seen to, and woke some time later to the continuing sound of bickering by the fire. She opened her eyes blearily, and saw Fae curled up fast asleep on the cot next to her.

"She volunteered to keep watch on your condition. I believe the poor child simply needed a reprieve from her fellow Inquisition council members," said a soft voice on the other side of her. Ellethir sat up quickly, but regretted it, her head throbbing irritably. "Ssh, you need rest also."

"They've been at it for hours," Ellethir grumbled.

"They have that luxury thanks to you."

Fae was dimly aware of the quiet rise and fall of the conversation next to her. She vaguely noted that the Herald must have woken up. She was content to slip back into precious sleep once more, but then she noticed the conversation had stopped. Was something wrong? She forced herself to sit up, wiping the sleep from her eyes. Ellethir was leaning against the tent stand in front of her, and Leliana was sitting on the ground, staring numbly into the fire next to Josephine, who sat with her head in her hands. Cassandra was pretending to be interested in the makeshift war table they had assembled, while Cullen was pacing back and forth.

Mother Giselle stood up, and walked out of the tent to stand beside Ellethir. She began to sing in a low, smooth tone. Fae vaguely recognised the tune; it was a chantry hymn. Leliana joined in, harmonising sweetly, and then others followed suit, until a full chorus filled the camp. As they sang, the people gathered in front of the Herald, kneeling or saluting with their fists over their hearts. Fae saw Cole in a nearby tent rising from his crouched position and walking away from where Chancellor Roderick lay still on his cot. The song continued, and when it was over there was some applause, and the overall mood of the camp felt a little lighter.

"An army needs more than an enemy," Mother Giselle said to Ellethir. "It needs a cause."

Then Solas approached the Herald and asked for a word, and they walked somewhere out of sight.

Fae saw Leliana coming over, and she nodded wearily. "I've had my nap, I'm coming. But I can't remember what point I was making before I left, you'll have to catch me up first."

Leliana smiled tiredly. "I'm actually here to tell you to go to bed. If you and the Herald aren't using those cots right now, we'll need them for the injured. There's a spare bedroll in my tent. Shoo."

Fae pouted. "What happened to 'we need you for advising the Inquisition council, Fae. You have to be the Herald's right-hand man, Fae?'"

Leliana rolled her eyes. "You can hardly offer sage advice if you're too tired to remember much more than your own name. Go."

Fae yawned while she saluted, but did what she was told, trudging over to the tent Leliana directed her towards.