12 Cloudreach 9:37
Ariana’s parents had returned to Ostwick a few weeks earlier, but not before Elara made a promise to return by summer. She had suggested a trip to Orlais to find Ariana’s wedding dress or a seamstress capable of crafting the perfect one. To her surprise, Ariana felt a small thrill of excitement at the idea, something she hadn’t expected given how complicated her relationship with her mother had always been.
Yet, tonight her mind was far from dresses and wedding plans. She found herself caught up in a rather peculiar proposition.
“So, what do you say, pup?” Varric asked, his grin as mischievous as ever. “You’re not afraid of ghosts, are you?”
Ariana raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Ghosts, Varric? Really? I expected better from you.”
“It’s not just a ghost story,” he replied, chuckling. “It’s Bartrand’s old estate. You know, the one not too far from your place.”
“You’re telling me I live down the street from a haunted house?” Ariana asked, her tone teetering between disbelief and amusement.
“Apparently, we both do,” Hawke chimed in, smirking.
Ariana’s lips twitched into a grin. “Fine. I’ll go with you. If for no other reason than to prove this isn’t some elaborate prank.”
“That’s the spirit, pup,” Varric quipped, already leading the way. “Let’s see what’s rattling around Bartrand’s old house.”
As they approached the estate, the air seemed heavier, oppressive. Shadows danced unnaturally across the exterior, and the silence of the surrounding area was deafening. The grand halls, once lavish and filled with life, were now cold and lifeless. Dust clung to every surface, and the faint scent of decay lingered in the air. A soft creak of wood accompanied their first steps inside, the sound swallowed almost instantly by the dense silence.
“Do you hear that music?” Varric asked suddenly, his expression shifting as his head tilted slightly, as though straining to listen.
Ariana frowned, glancing at him. “I don’t hear anything. What kind of music?”
“It’s faint… like a melody. Old, haunting.” Varric’s voice seemed to soften, lost to whatever he was hearing.
Hawke raised an eyebrow, her smirk fading slightly. “You sure you’re not just spooked, Varric? This place might be dredging up old memories.”
“Spooked? Please. I’ve faced worse,” Varric retorted, though his voice lacked its usual bravado.
Ariana couldn’t shake the unease settling in her bones. She didn’t believe in haunted houses—at least, she didn’t think she did. But there was something about this place, an energy that felt alive, sentient, and far from welcoming.
They pressed on, the oppressive silence broken only by their cautious footsteps. Shadows seemed to shift and twist in the corners of her vision, and more than once, Ariana caught herself glancing over her shoulder. A faint whisper of wind brushed past her ear, though no windows were open, sending a chill down her spine.
The unease turned to alarm as a vase suddenly floated off a nearby table, hovering in the air before shattering on the ground. Ariana exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Hawke.
“That’s… unsettling,” Ariana muttered, her voice tinged with forced calm.
“It’s only starting,” Varric said grimly, his hand instinctively resting on Bianca’s stock.
In the library, the surreal nature of the estate deepened. Books floated from their shelves, pages fluttering like wings before returning to their places as if nothing had happened. Ariana reached out to touch one, only for it to snap back to the shelf just before her fingers made contact.
“Well, that’s not normal,” Hawke remarked, her tone dry but her posture tense.
“Not normal doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Ariana muttered, her unease growing with every passing moment.
As they moved into the hallway beyond the library, two ghostly figures darted across their path, their forms humanoid but indistinct. The air grew colder, and Ariana felt a shiver run down her spine.
“Were those… ghosts?” she asked, her voice faltering.
“Oh no,” Varric said, his tone grim. “I think I know what’s happening.”
“What’s happening?” Ariana pressed, her eyes narrowing.
“The idol,” Varric replied. “It has to still be in the house.”
“What idol?” Ariana asked, looking between Hawke and Varric.
Hawke sighed, her expression darkening. “The red lyrium idol from the Deep Roads expedition. Bartrand kept a piece of it. We thought it was gone, but…”
“But clearly it’s not,” Varric finished, his voice bitter.
“And you think it’s causing all this?” Ariana asked.
“It’s not a coincidence,” Varric said grimly. “That thing is pure poison.”
“Then we find it,” Hawke declared, her tone resolute. “And we end this.”
The main hall was worse than before. More vases floated ominously, their movements deliberate, as though guided by unseen hands. The air felt suffocating, heavy with something unseen and malevolent. Ariana’s breath quickened as the tension grew, her hand tightening instinctively on the hilt of her blade.
As they neared the stairs, a low, guttural growl reverberated through the air, deep and menacing, sending chills down Ariana’s spine.
“Is that what you’ve been hearing, Varric?” Ariana asked, her voice sharp with nerves.
“No,” Varric replied, his tone unusually clipped, his brow furrowed in unease.
“Oh, good then,” she muttered dryly, though her attempt at humor fell flat in the oppressive atmosphere.
At the top of the stairs, the scene grew stranger. The dimly lit room ahead was filled with an eerie, pale glow, casting long shadows that flickered unnaturally. A woman stood in the center of the room, her wide eyes darting toward them as they entered. Fear was etched deeply into her face.
“Are you… real?” she asked, her voice trembling as she took a hesitant step back. “You need to leave. Before he comes back.”
“Who’s ‘he’?” Ariana asked cautiously, stepping closer but keeping her blade ready.
The woman’s gaze darted toward the shadows, as if expecting something to materialize at any moment. “You don’t understand,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “He’s always here. Watching. Waiting.”
Varric stepped forward, his usually relaxed demeanor gone. His hand rested on Bianca, and his eyes bore into the woman with a mix of suspicion and urgency. “Where’s the idol?” he demanded, his voice sharp, almost harsh.
The woman flinched, her hands trembling as she shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered. “There’s no idol—”
“Don’t lie to me!” Varric’s voice rose, echoing off the walls. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. The red lyrium idol. Where is it?”
The woman’s fear deepened, her eyes darting to the door as though contemplating escape. “Please,” she pleaded, her voice cracking. “I don’t know anything about—”
“You’re lying,” Varric snapped, stepping closer. His grip on Bianca tightened, and his usual charm was nowhere to be found. “People don’t just stay in a place like this for no reason. What are you hiding?”
“Varric,” Ariana interrupted, her voice firm as she moved between him and the woman. “That’s enough. She’s terrified.”
“She knows something, pup,” Varric retorted, his voice sharp. “And I need answers.”
“Not like this,” Ariana said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Varric opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the floor beneath them trembled violently. The walls groaned, and a rush of cold air swept through the room, extinguishing the faint light. The woman let out a panicked cry and bolted past them, disappearing into the shadows of the hall.
Moments later, the sound of her scream tore through the air, sharp and gut-wrenching.
Ariana’s heart raced as they rushed to the source of the scream, descending the stairs with weapons drawn. At the bottom, they found her lifeless body sprawled across the floor, her limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Standing over her was a massive, spectral figure—a jagged, hulking form with glowing eyes that burned with malice.
“Is that a… ghost golem?” Ariana asked, her voice disbelieving and tinged with dread. She drew her blades, her grip tightening. “I think I’ve made a terrible life choice today.”
The creature let out a deafening roar, the sound reverberating through the halls. It charged, its massive arm swinging toward them with crushing force. Ariana darted to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow as it shattered the stone banister. Hawke leapt into action, her movements swift and precise as she landed a well-placed strike with her daggers, drawing the creature’s attention.
“Aim for the core!” Hawke shouted, pointing to the faintly glowing center of the golem’s chest. “It’s holding the thing together!”
Ariana moved quickly, circling around the creature while Varric fired a flurry of bolts from Bianca, each shot glowing faintly as it struck the spectral figure. The golem roared again, its form flickering as Ariana slashed at its core. The blow seemed to destabilize it, and with one final coordinated effort, she drove her blade deep into the center as Hawke struck from behind, and Varric’s bolt pierced the core. The golem let out a final, guttural scream before disintegrating into a haze of spectral light.
As the dust settled, Varric’s gaze was drawn to a faint glimmer in the debris. His expression darkened as he knelt, his hand hovering over a jagged shard of glowing red lyrium.
“It’s still here,” he murmured, almost to himself. “All this… because of this cursed thing.”
“Varric,” Hawke said sharply, her voice cutting through the tension. “Put it down.”
“I can’t,” Varric replied, his voice strained. “You don’t understand. This… it’s what’s left of Bartrand, of everything he destroyed.” His grip on the shard tightened, his knuckles white.
“Varric,” Ariana said gently, stepping closer. “You don’t need to carry this. Let it go. This thing ruined Bartrand and almost ruined you. Don’t let it finish the job.”
“It’s not that simple,” Varric said, his voice breaking. “It’s all that’s left of him.”
Hawke placed a hand on his shoulder, her tone softening. “And it’s not your burden to bear. Let me take it. I’ll keep it safe. You’ve done enough, Varric. It’s time to let it go.”
For a long moment, Varric didn’t move. Then, with a heavy sigh, he handed the shard to Hawke, his shoulders slumping as though a great weight had been lifted.
“Fine,” he said quietly. “But if it starts whispering sweet nothings to you, Hawke, I’m taking it back.”
Ariana let out a small laugh, the tension finally easing. “You did the right thing, Varric,” she said, giving him a reassuring nod.
“Let’s get out of here before this place decides to collapse on us,” Hawke said, tucking the shard safely away.
As they stepped out into the cool night air, the oppressive energy of the house seemed to release its hold. But the memory of what had transpired—and the dangers of the idol—lingered with them as they walked back into the quiet streets of Hightown.
~~~
The oppressive weight of the night clung to Ariana as she stepped into her house, the door creaking closed behind her. The events at Bartrand’s estate had left a shadow over her thoughts, but that shadow deepened as she saw Cullen standing in the hall, the dim light catching on his polished armor. His expression was etched with worry, the kind that sent a pang through her chest.
“Where have you been?” His voice was sharp, laced with tension, his hazel eyes scanning her as though confirming she was unharmed.
Ariana blinked, her guard immediately rising. “Just down the street at a haunted house,” she replied, her sarcasm biting. “You know, because that’s normal.”
Cullen stepped closer, his brows knitting together. “This isn’t the time for jokes, Ariana. It’s not safe out there.” His voice dropped, heavy with urgency. “You need to stay inside tonight. Please.”
She frowned, the edge in his tone unsettling. “What’s going on? Wait, why are you fully armed?”
He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting hers again. “Something’s brewing between Orsino and Meredith. The tension’s been building for weeks, but tonight… something feels different. Wrong.”
Her stomach tightened, the foreboding in his words settling like a weight in her chest. “Orsino sent for Hawke and Varric tonight,” she said slowly, her voice edged with worry. “They’re with him now.”
Cullen’s face darkened, his jaw tightening. “This won’t end well then.”
“What won’t end well?” she demanded, stepping closer. “Cullen, you’re not telling me anything.”
He sighed heavily, the lines on his face deepening. “Meredith has ordered the tower searched, top to bottom. Every mage, every room—she won’t stop until she’s rooted out all blood mages.”
Ariana’s breath caught, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “You know what that means,” she said, her voice trembling with anger. “She’ll accuse anyone who looks at her the wrong way. Innocent mages will die, Cullen. You cannot let this happen.”
“And what do you expect me to do?” he snapped, his frustration finally surfacing. “Defy her? Risk throwing the entire Order into chaos? The Templars need leadership, Ariana, and right now—”
“They need you!” she cut in, her voice rising. She grabbed his arm, forcing him to face her. “You know she’s gone too far. You’re the Knight-Captain, Cullen. You can take command. You can stop this before it’s too late.”
For a moment, he looked at her, his resolve wavering. The storm in his eyes reflected the weight of her words, the battle raging within him. “And then what?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with pain. “Meredith is the Knight-Commander. My duty is to her.”
Ariana’s grip tightened, her voice trembling. “Your duty is to protect people, Cullen. To do what’s right. You know this isn’t right.”
He stepped back, breaking her hold. His face was a mask of conflict, his voice hollow. “It’s not that simple, Ariana.”
“It is to me,” she whispered, her heart aching as the distance between them grew. “Please, Cullen. Help me stop this. Help me save them.”
“Ari…” His voice broke, and for a fleeting moment, she thought he might relent. But then he shook his head, his expression hardening. “I’m sorry.”
She reached for him again, her hands trembling as they rested against his chest. “We’re supposed to be in this together,” she said, her voice cracking under the weight of her plea. “Stand with me, please. The Templars will follow you.”
Cullen’s gaze dropped to her hands, his jaw tightening. For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something—hope, perhaps, or the faintest shadow of belief in her words. But then he shook his head again, stepping back just enough for her hands to fall away.
“I’m not sure that’s true,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with conflict. “Even if I wanted to, relieving Meredith of command would fracture the Order here in Kirkwall. It could tear us apart.”
“You’ve seen what she’s done,” Ariana argued, her desperation clear. “You know where this path leads, Cullen. If you don’t act now, it won’t just be the mages who suffer—it will be everyone.”
His face was a storm of emotions—guilt, frustration, and a deep, aching sorrow. “And what happens when the Templars start questioning everything?” he asked, his tone sharp but not unkind. “When they see their leaders divided, when they lose faith in the Order entirely? That chaos would destroy us.”
Ariana clenched her fists, her chest tightening with every word. “And standing by while Meredith tears this city apart won’t?”
“I don’t have the power you think I do, Ariana,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t risk what little unity we have left.”
Her heart ached at the resignation in his voice, at the weight he carried alone. “You’re stronger than you think, Cullen,” she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. “But if you won’t stand with me now, then who will?”
His silence was deafening, his eyes filled with a pain that mirrored her own. Finally, he turned toward the door, his shoulders heavy with the weight of his decision.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, barely audible as he opened the door. “Stay safe, Ari. Please.”
And with that, he was gone, leaving Ariana standing alone in the suffocating silence.
The silence that followed was deafening, her outstretched hand trembling as she let it fall to her side. Her heart pounded, her mind racing. She wanted to scream, to break something, to tear down the walls she’d built between her identities. For the first time, she had been on the verge of telling Cullen everything—who she really was, what she truly stood for—but she couldn’t.
She let out a shuddering breath, the weight of her choices pressing down on her. Time had run out. Meredith’s madness would force her hand, and when it did, the White Wolf would no longer be a shadow in the dark. She would have to face the consequences of her double life, and Maker help her, she wasn’t sure if Cullen would still stand beside her when the truth came to light.
With a trembling resolve, Ariana turned toward the stairs, her mind already calculating her next move. If the storm was coming, she would be ready for it—even if it cost her everything.
~~~
Isabel stood at the base of the stairs, her face pale, her eyes locked on Ariana with a mixture of disbelief and fear.
“This… can’t be happening,” Isabel whispered, her voice trembling as if saying the words aloud might summon more devastation.
Ariana’s chest tightened, but her expression hardened into one of resolve. “Get changed,” she ordered, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. “Travel clothes. Pack light, bring Emma, and anything you absolutely need. You’re leaving the city tonight.”
Isabel’s lips parted as if to protest, but the unyielding determination in Ariana’s eyes silenced her. This wasn’t a request—it was a command. Ariana would not risk them staying, not with chaos ripping through Kirkwall like wildfire. Isabel gave a single, tight nod before hurrying away.
Ariana’s legs carried her up the stairs, each step heavier than the last. She had been here before, packing for flight, leaving behind pieces of herself to protect what little she could. In her room, she knelt by the bed and pulled out the chest, the latch clicking open to reveal her past. Her hands brushed over the familiar fabric of the White Wolf’s cloak. Each movement felt heavier, the weight of her decision settling like stone in her chest. She had fought for years to keep her lives separate, but now, the fragile threads holding them together were snapping.
She donned her gear with practiced efficiency—leather bracers, reinforced boots, twin daggers strapped to her thighs. The weight of the cloak on her shoulders felt like stepping back into an old self she had tried to leave behind. The White Wolf wasn’t just a mask; it was who she truly was, even if she had tried to build something different with Cullen. But could the two lives ever truly coexist?
As her fingers hovered over her gloves, her gaze fell to the ring on her finger, its faint blue crystal catching the dim light. Her breath hitched. This ring was a symbol of everything she wanted—a life with Cullen, a family, love, and stability. But it was a life built on lies, on half-truths and secrets.
Her hand trembled as she slid on her gloves, covering the ring. She felt as though she were sealing away a part of herself. The Wolf demanded action, demanded she protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. But the woman who loved Cullen, who dreamed of something beyond the shadows—she was still there, buried under layers of duty and necessity. She had told herself she would choose Cullen if it ever came to it. But she realized now that she had lied to herself. This was the moment, she could choose him here and now. All she needed to do was stay home. But she would never make that choice.
The final strap clicked into place. Just as she straightened, the world seemed to heave beneath her feet. An earsplitting explosion tore through the air, the sound reverberating through her bones. She staggered, clutching the bedpost for balance as the house shook violently around her.
When the tremors subsided, her ears rang with a high-pitched whine, but the sickening reality of what had just happened drove her forward. She bolted toward the balcony, her heart pounding.
As she stepped outside, her breath caught in her throat. The Chantry was gone. In its place, a towering column of red light split the night sky, casting an eerie glow over Kirkwall. Flames roared hungrily, devouring the remnants of the holy building, while smoke billowed upward like a vengeful specter. The distant screams of terrified citizens reached her ears, a symphony of chaos that filled the city.
Ariana’s knuckles whitened as she gripped the railing, her voice trembling as she whispered, “Andraste guide us…”
This was it. The moment she had dreaded but somehow known would come. There was no more hiding, no more pretending. Whatever fragile peace she had tried to create was shattered, the life she had built with Cullen teetering on the edge of ruin.
She turned sharply, her resolve hardening. There was no time to waste. She raced downstairs to find Isabel already in the main hall, clutching Emma tightly with a pack slung over her shoulder. The fear in Isabel’s eyes mirrored Ariana’s own, but her movements were steady, her grip on Emma firm.
“We need to leave now,” Ariana said, her voice sharp and commanding. “The city won’t hold.” She turned to the household staff, her gaze sweeping over them. “If you want to leave, come with us. If you stay, barricade the doors. Fortify the house. It will hold if you’re careful.”
Some nodded and began packing hastily, while others moved to fortify the estate, their faces grim but resolute.
Ariana stepped closer to Isabel, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. “You stay right behind me,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “Close and to my left, always. Do you understand?”
Isabel nodded, her grip tightening on Emma as the little girl buried her face in her mother’s neck. Despite the chaos, Isabel’s calm gave Ariana a sliver of reassurance.
Ariana drew her blades as they stepped out into the fiery streets of Hightown. The world had become a battlefield—flames licked the sides of buildings, casting long, flickering shadows; shouts and cries echoed through the night, mingling with the distant clang of steel. Every sound, every movement, set Ariana’s nerves on edge.
“We head to the Rangers,” she said, her voice unwavering as she addressed the small group that followed her. “Stay close. Stay together. Do not stray.”
With each step, Ariana felt the weight of the White Wolf embrace her like an old friend. This was her life. The one she built through sacrifice, mistakes, and her own choices. The one where she could protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. She had just hoped that Cullen could have been a part of it.
Whatever lay ahead, Ariana would face it as she always had—with blades in her hands and a fierce determination burning in her chest. The Wolf was ready, and this time, she wasn’t running.
But deep down, she knew that nothing would ever be the same again.
~~~
The group moved through Hightown as swiftly as the panicked crowds allowed. Though chaos reigned, the disarray was driven more by confusion than outright violence. Frightened citizens wandered aimlessly, shouting for loved ones or stumbling through the streets in a daze. Ariana stopped briefly to give the same advice to anyone who approached her: “Barricade yourselves in your homes. Stay safe. Don’t open the door for anyone.”
As they descended into Lowtown, the air thickened with heat and smoke, and the tension became palpable. Here, chaos had taken a sharper edge. Shadows darted through the narrow alleys, and the clash of steel against steel echoed from the direction of the Docks. Angry shouts and cries for help pierced the night. Ariana tightened her grip on her daggers, her pulse quickening as her group pressed on.
A familiar voice cut through the noise. “Wolf!”
She turned sharply, relief flooding through her as Riley and three other Rangers—Valentina, Linnea, and Lamberto—approached, flanked by six more. Their armor bore fresh scuffs, their weapons drawn and ready. Riley’s familiar voice brought a rare moment of reassurance.
“Riley,” Ariana said, her tone brisk but grateful. “You’re a sight. I need ships. Do we have any docked and ready?”
Riley nodded but hesitated, her expression grim. “We do, Wolf, but there’s more.” She glanced at Valentina before meeting Ariana’s gaze. “Meredith has invoked the Right of Annulment.”
The words hit Ariana like a blow to the chest, momentarily knocking the air from her lungs. Her mind reeled, the full weight of the declaration crashing over her. It was worse than she had feared. The Templars would purge the Circle, innocent and guilty alike, leaving nothing but blood and ash in their wake.
“Your orders, Wolf,” Riley said, her voice steady despite the storm brewing around them.
Ariana straightened, shoving her shock and despair aside. There was no time to waste. “Lamberto,” she said firmly, turning to the broad-shouldered Ranger. “Take a squad and escort this group to the docks. Get them on the ships. Defend the docks with your life if you have to. Reinforcements will join you as soon as possible.”
“By your order, Wolf,” Lamberto replied, his tone steady and resolute. He motioned to his team, who began forming up with swift, practiced precision.
Isabel stepped forward, clutching Emma tightly, her face pale but determined. “Ariana,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “You’re not coming with us?”
Ariana’s throat tightened, but she shook her head. “Not yet,” she said, her voice softening as she pulled Isabel and Emma into a brief but fierce embrace. “I’ll find you. I swear it.” She knelt to meet Emma’s wide-eyed gaze, her heart clenching. “Stay with your mother, alright? She’ll keep you safe.”
Emma nodded solemnly, her small hands gripping Ariana’s cloak. “You’ll come back, right?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“Always,” Ariana said firmly, brushing a strand of hair from Emma’s face. “Be brave, my little cub.”
She straightened and met Isabel’s gaze. “Go. Stay safe. Lamberto will protect you.”
Isabel hesitated, her eyes filled with unspoken fears, but she nodded. “You too,” she whispered before following Lamberto and the others as they disappeared into the smoke-filled streets.
Ariana turned back to Riley, Valentina, and Linnea, her voice hardening. “We’re heading to the warehouse. The Rangers need their orders, and I need to know who’s still standing.” Without waiting for a response, she raised her horn and blew a sharp, commanding blast. The call echoed through the streets, summoning the scattered Rangers.
By the time they reached the warehouse, it was a hive of activity. Rangers moved with focused urgency, their sharp efficiency a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Scouts poured in, delivering reports, while others prepped supplies and coordinated escape routes. Despite the tension, the group operated like a well-oiled machine, their discipline forged through years of shared battles.
Ariana climbed onto a crate at the center of the room, her voice cutting through the din as she addressed the assembled Rangers. “Templars are hunting mages,” she began, her tone steady but commanding. “And frightened mages will turn to blood magic if they think there’s no way out. We’re going to give them one. Our job is to find them and get them to the docks. No mage gets left behind.”
Her gaze swept over the crowd, settling on Linnea. “Spread the word. Every scout we have is to search the streets, the slums, and Darktown. Make sure the mages know this is their chance. Escort them if necessary, and get them to the ships.”
Linnea nodded sharply, already signaling to her scouts to prepare.
Riley stepped forward, her brow furrowed. “And the Templars?” she asked, her voice carrying a weight that made the room fall silent.
Ariana’s expression darkened, and her response was measured but firm. “Incapacitate them if you must. Reason with them if you think they’ll listen. But if it comes down to it…” She hesitated, the gravity of her next words heavy in her chest. “Kill only as a last resort. We don’t need more bloodshed, but we protect our own. And…” Her voice softened, her gaze dropping for a moment. “If any of you find Michael, I need to know he’s safe.”
Linnea nodded, her hand resting on the pommel of her blade. “What’s our path, Wolf?”
“Start in Lowtown and Darktown,” Ariana replied without hesitation. “We’ll clear the streets and move toward the Gallows. Scouts, run constant communication between groups—no one gets left in the dark.”
Valentina’s voice rang out, sharp and resolute. “We’ll get it done, Wolf. Whatever it takes.”
The Rangers echoed her, their unified response reverberating through the room: “By your order, Wolf.”
The group began to disperse, each Ranger moving with purpose into the night. Only Riley lingered, her gaze steady as she studied Ariana.
“And you?” Riley asked quietly, her concern evident.
“I’ll find where I’m needed most,” Ariana said, adjusting her cloak with calm resolve. “But first, I need to find Hawke and Varric. Orsino sent for them earlier. I need to know what’s happening.”
Riley hesitated, then nodded, her voice softening. “Don’t get dead, Wolf.”
Ariana managed a faint smile. “Not tonight.”
As Riley led her squad into the fray, Ariana stood for a moment, the weight of the night pressing down on her. She pulled her hood over her head, the White Wolf stepping fully into the chaos. Kirkwall was burning, and her path was clear: protect those who could not protect themselves, no matter the cost.
Tonight, the city was a battlefield, and she would fight until her last breath.
~~~
Ariana pulled her hood up, her fingers brushing over the mask as she secured it in place. The legend of the White Wolf wouldn’t falter tonight—not while there were lives to save. Yet each step through Kirkwall’s burning streets was a bitter reminder of what she stood to lose. Beneath her gloves, the ring on her finger burned like a brand, the weight of its promise a cruel contrast to the reality unfolding around her.
This isn’t how I wanted this to end, Cullen. But it’s who I am. She tried to push the thought aside, but it clung to her, heavy and unrelenting.
Her heart clenched as her mind turned to him again, that fragile hope still flickering within her. Please let him see what she’s doing. Please let him stand with me. But doubt whispered insidiously. Cullen was bound by duty and oaths she couldn’t untangle him from—not even for her.
The streets were chaos incarnate, filled with fire and desperation. Mages ran in terror, their cries blending with the clash of steel as Templars bore down on them. Ariana moved like a shadow, striking swiftly and precisely. She disarmed and incapacitated where she could, her blades flashing in the firelight. But when cornered, she had no choice but to end a life, and each time she did, it carved a deeper scar into her soul.
“Do not fight,” she urged trembling mages whenever she reached them. Her voice was steady, a beacon of calm in the chaos. “Follow my Rangers. Trust us. We’ll get you to safety.”
Most listened, their desperation outweighing fear. But Ariana couldn’t save everyone. Twice she arrived too late, finding mages who had succumbed to blood magic, their bodies grotesque and twisted, their minds lost to demons. She fought beside the very Templars she despised to put them down, the White Wolf forced to be their ally in those fleeting, harrowing moments.
Even then, she heard whispers: “The White Wolf is here. Beware.”
Her teeth clenched as she muttered bitterly, “I just saved you,” before vanishing into the next alley.
The city seemed to pulse with its own malevolence, every corner hiding new horrors. Finally, she spotted familiar figures in the distance. “Hawke!” she called, relief rushing through her as she sprinted toward them.
Hawke turned, her usual smirk replaced by a somber expression. Varric stood at her side, crossbow at the ready. “Ariana,” Hawke said, her voice heavy.
“What happened?” Ariana demanded. “No—how did this happen?”
Varric was the one to answer, his voice uncharacteristically grim. “Anders blew up the Chantry.” His words hung in the air, stark and cold. “He thought it’d spark a war.”
“And he was right,” Hawke added quietly, guilt shadowing her features.
Ariana’s stomach twisted. “Anders…?” She shook her head, forcing herself to focus. “There’s no time. The Rangers are moving mages to the docks. If you find anyone, send them there.”
Hawke nodded. “We’re heading to the Gallows. Meredith’s out for blood, and we’re at the top of her list.”
Ariana’s jaw tightened. “Be careful, Champion,” she said softly. “I’ll get there when I can.”
Hawke’s smirk returned briefly, though it lacked its usual bite. “You too, Wolf.”
Ariana gave a brief nod before vanishing back into the shadows.
In Lowtown, the chaos escalated. Flames licked at the edges of wooden structures, and the air was thick with smoke. Then she heard it: the sound of steel striking stone, and voices raised in fury. She followed the noise to find a group of mages cornered in a narrow alley by six Templars.
She acted without hesitation, raising her horn to her lips and blowing a sharp, commanding note. The sound echoed through the streets, breaking the Templars’ focus just long enough. Ariana leapt into the fray, landing between the mages and their pursuers.
“Do not fight,” she whispered to the mages over her shoulder. “I’ll protect you.”
The Templars advanced, their blades gleaming in the firelight. Six against one.
But before the first blow was struck, one of the Templars faltered. “I… I can’t do this anymore,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. He stepped away from his comrades, his sword lowering. “I’ll stand with you, if you’ll let me.”
Ariana’s sharp gaze softened. “Thank you,” she said simply, her voice steady. “Stay with the mages. Protect them.”
The other Templars hesitated, their formation breaking. Ariana seized the opportunity, her movements swift and deadly. Within moments, two of them were disarmed and unconscious.
Then, a voice cut through the chaos—a voice she knew too well.
“Stop! Surrender yourselves!”
Her blood turned to ice as she turned to face him. Cullen stood at the end of the alley, flanked by three more Templars. His armor gleamed in the flickering light, and his expression was grim, resolute.
“The Right of Annulment has been invoked,” he declared, his voice cold and distant. “Anyone aiding the mages will be arrested. Even you, ‘White Wolf.’”
The words struck her like a physical blow. Her breath caught, and for a moment, the world around her seemed to blur. Cullen…
He had chosen the Order. He had chosen Meredith. Her heart cracked, the weight of betrayal crashing down on her.
Their eyes met, and she saw the conflict in his gaze, the doubt he tried so hard to suppress. But it wasn’t enough. Not now.
The Templars advanced again, and Ariana moved on instinct. She fought like a whirlwind, incapacitating another enemy with precise, controlled strikes. Her blades flashed, her every move deliberate—no deaths, not even now.
And Cullen… he watched her, his brow furrowed. Her fighting style was familiar, but the chaos of the moment left him unable to place it.
Reinforcements arrived in the form of her Rangers, their sudden appearance shifting the tide. “Go, Wolf!” one of them shouted. “We’ll cover you!”
She hesitated, her gaze flickering to Cullen once more. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, a thousand unspoken words passed between them—love, betrayal, heartbreak, and resolve.
Ariana turned away, her voice sharp but quiet as she addressed the mages. “Follow me.”
With a final glance at Cullen, she disappeared into the shadows, leading the mages to safety as her heart shattered in her chest.
~~~
Ariana led the group of mages to the docks, her steps unwavering even as exhaustion clawed at her. The cries of chaos echoed behind her, the city’s flames painting the sky in hues of red and orange. The mages clung to one another as they followed her, their trust evident despite the fear etched into their faces.
As they reached the pier, Ariana saw Riley standing near the edge, her posture steady, a stark contrast to the chaos around them. She moved toward her, her steps purposeful but heavy with emotion.
“Status?” Ariana asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil roiling within her.
“Two ships have already left, full,” Riley replied briskly. “Yours will be the last. Isabel and Emma are safe—they’ve already departed. Everyone is headed for Redcliffe.”
At the mention of Isabel and Emma, Ariana’s breath hitched slightly, her expression softening. Relief flickered through her, but it was fleeting, buried beneath the weight of everything else. “Good,” she said curtly, her tone betraying the strain she carried.
Riley’s gaze shifted to the Templar who stood beside Ariana, his armor dented but his resolve clear. “New recruit, Wolf?” she asked, her tone edged with dry humor.
Ariana nodded. “Someone who wants to help,” she said, glancing at the Templar. Then, addressing him directly, she added, “Stay here. More mages are being brought to this ship. You’ll leave with them—watch over and protect them.”
The Templar gave a sharp nod. “Of course.”
Riley smirked faintly, her tone light despite the gravity of the moment. “Welcome to the Rangers, kid. You’ll find some of your fellow former Templars already by the ship.”
Riley turned her attention back to Ariana, her expression softening. “Are you alright?” she asked, her concern evident.
“I’m fine,” Ariana replied curtly, her tone clipped. She rolled out her neck and adjusted her blades, trying to shake off the heaviness pressing down on her. “Just tired.” Then, after a pause, she asked, “Any sign of Michael yet?”
The Templar stiffened slightly at the name, then turned back to Ariana. “Ser Michael Trevelyan? He was still in the Gallows when all this began,” he said, his voice hesitant. “He’s a capable warrior. I’m sure he’s alright.”
Ariana’s jaw tightened. She wanted to believe him, but doubt gnawed at her. “Thank you,” she said quietly, though her mind raced.
“As soon as this last group clears, we head for the Gallows,” she said firmly, her voice sharpening with determination. “Hawke will need help there. And I need to find Michael.”
Minutes later, the final groups of mages began arriving, escorted by Rangers whose faces bore the weariness of battle. Despite their exhaustion, they moved with purpose, guiding the mages to the ship. Ariana oversaw every detail, ensuring no one was left behind. Each mage she saw safely aboard was another weight lifted, though it did little to ease the ache in her heart.
“Are all Rangers accounted for?” she asked Riley once the ship was nearly ready to depart.
“With the ones that just arrived, yes,” Riley confirmed.
Ariana nodded, her voice steady but tinged with finality. “Good. I need fifteen volunteers to stay behind with me. Everyone else, head for Ferelden with the mages. We’ll regroup at the manor when this is over.”
“I’m staying,” Riley said immediately, stepping forward with her usual confidence. “Can’t let you get yourself killed, Wolf. Somebody’s gotta keep you in line.”
“So are we,” Valentina said, stepping into view with Linnea and Lamberto at her side.
Ariana allowed herself a faint smirk despite the heaviness in her chest. “Very well. Let’s hope you’re all up for the task.”
The volunteers stepped forward one by one, a mix of Rangers she had fought alongside for years and newer recruits whose determination shone in their eyes. As the final ship set sail, Ariana turned to the remaining Rangers. Her voice was steady, but her words carried a fire that burned brighter than the city behind her.
“We head for the Gallows now,” she said, her tone resolute. “Let’s carve a path.”
As they boarded a small boat to cross the harbor, Ariana sat silently at the prow, her hood pulled low against the chill. There was no room for doubt, no time for grief. Every choice she’d made, every life saved, had led her here. If Cullen wouldn’t fight for justice, she would do it alone. She would not falter, not now. The rhythmic splash of oars against water did little to calm her racing thoughts. The image of Cullen’s face—his hardened expression as he invoked the Right of Annulment—played on a loop in her mind.
*The Right of Annulment has been invoked. Even you, White Wolf.*
The words struck like a dagger each time they echoed in her mind, the betrayal cutting deeper than she’d thought possible. She had believed in him, trusted that he would do what was right, that he would stand against Meredith when the time came. But he hadn’t. He had chosen duty over justice. Over her. Had she been a fool to believe he could stand against Meredith? To think that love could bridge the chasm between who he was and who she needed him to be?”
Her fists clenched at her sides, her gloved fingers brushing against the ring hidden beneath the fabric. The weight of it felt unbearable now—a promise she wasn’t sure either of them could keep anymore.
She had hidden the White Wolf from him, told herself it was to protect him, but now she wondered if it had only widened the distance between them. Could he have stood with her if she had been honest? Or would he have walked away even sooner? She wanted to believe he would come to his senses. That the man she loved would break free from the chains of duty and stand beside her.
And yet, beneath the heartbreak, anger simmered. Anger at Meredith, at the Chantry for failing to act before things had escalated this far. Anger at Cullen for his inaction, for his inability to defy the Order. And anger at herself—for letting the White Wolf sit idly by for so long, for believing she could balance both halves of her life without breaking something.
Riley’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Wolf? We’re almost there.”
Ariana glanced back at the Rangers, their faces set with determination. They believed in her. They had always believed in her. And that, more than anything, reminded her of who she was. The White Wolf wasn’t just a mask—it was a promise. A promise to protect, to fight for those who couldn’t fight for themselves, no matter the cost.
As the boat neared the Gallows, the fires of Kirkwall reflected in the water, casting eerie shadows across their faces. Ariana pulled her hood tighter and adjusted her blades. The battle wasn’t over yet. And tonight, the White Wolf would not falter.