1 – 7 Bloomingtide 9:41
The Frostbacks stretched endlessly before them, the mountain trail winding down toward the Hinterlands. Ariana pulled her cloak tighter around herself, though the biting cold barely registered. Her mind was elsewhere, turning over the conversation she’d had with Cullen the night before. Saying the words aloud—acknowledging the very real possibility of her death—had made it more tangible, more weighty. She had long since accepted the risk, but Cullen’s reaction lingered in her mind. The anguish in his eyes, the way he’d grasped her hand as if holding it could prevent that fate—it was a rare glimpse of his heart laid bare, and it had shaken her more than she cared to admit.
The silence of the trail was broken by Cassandra’s voice, her tone pointed as she directed a question at Varric. “Have you heard from any of your Kirkwall associates, Varric?”
Ariana sighed internally. Here we go again.
Varric’s scoff came almost instantly. “You’re asking me? So you don’t read my letters?”
“You’re no longer my prisoner,” Cassandra replied with the weary patience of someone accustomed to this routine. “Much as you like to act like it.”
Ariana let her eyes drift skyward, silently pleading for patience. She could almost predict Varric’s retort before he said it.
“And yet I still get all the suspicion,” Varric shot back, his voice laced with bitterness.
Cassandra’s sigh was quieter this time, almost regretful. “I am not without sympathy,” she said, surprising Ariana with the note of sincerity in her voice. “Especially given recent events.”
Varric’s anger sharpened. “Why, Seeker, I would never accuse you of having sympathy! By the way, I tend to refer to my ‘associates’ as ‘friends.’ Maybe you’re not familiar with the conc—”
“Enough!” Ariana’s voice cut through their bickering like a blade, sharp and unyielding. Both turned to her in surprise, their argument dissolving into tense silence.
The silence that followed was tense, the air heavy with unresolved frustration. Varric muttered something under his breath—probably unkind—while Cassandra pressed her lips together, her expression a mix of annoyance and regret.
Ariana sighed quietly and let the silence linger before slowing her pace to match Cassandra’s. If she was going to spend weeks traveling with this group, the bickering needed to stop. Besides, she was genuinely curious about the Seeker—about the woman who carried herself with unyielding strength but kept her past wrapped in a shroud of mystery.
“Tell me, Seeker,” Ariana began, her tone light and conversational, “where are you from?”
Cassandra glanced at her, suspicious. “Why?”
Ariana shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “Because I’d like to get to know you better. Unless, of course, you prefer to remain a mystery.”
“You would?” Cassandra asked, her suspicion softening into genuine surprise.
“I’m just being friendly,” Ariana replied, chuckling softly. “Not interrogating. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
Cassandra sighed, clearly debating whether or not to indulge her. “There’s… not much to tell,” she finally said, her voice guarded but not unkind.
“Oh, come now,” Ariana teased, giving her an incredulous look. “You were the right hand to the Divine. Not much to tell? I don’t believe that for a second.”
Cassandra’s brow twitched, and for a moment, Ariana thought she might deflect again. But then the Seeker sighed, her tone resigned but not unkind. “My name is Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast,” she began, her words carrying the weight of a history long practiced. “Daughter of the royal house of Nevarra, seventy-eighth in line for the throne. My family is known for its dragon-hunting lineage, though those days are long past. I left that life to join the Seekers of Truth when I was barely more than a girl.”
Ariana’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait… you’re a member of Nevarra’s royal family?” she asked, her tone laced with disbelief.
Cassandra’s expression shifted to feigned annoyance, though there was a faint flicker of amusement in her eyes. She explained how the Pentaghast clan was vast, their fame rooted in a dragon-hunting legacy that had long since fallen out of practice. She spoke of her decision to leave Nevarra, to run from a future that had felt suffocating, predetermined—a life of meaningless luxury and empty politics.
As Cassandra spoke, Ariana listened intently, nodding occasionally. She couldn’t help but see the parallels between their lives. Both of them had walked away from expectations, titles, and the paths others had set for them. Both had chosen freedom, even when it came at great cost.
When Cassandra finished, Ariana smiled gently. “You and I have more in common than I realized.”
Cassandra regarded her in silence for a moment before nodding slowly. “Perhaps we do,” she admitted, her voice quieter now.
Ariana grinned, her tone turning playful. “Though I can’t say I have the same dragon-hunting lineage. That part’s all yours.”
A faint smile tugged at Cassandra’s lips, and for the first time since their journey began, the tension between them eased. Ariana glanced over her shoulder at Varric, who was riding a few paces behind them with Bianca slung across his back. She hoped he had been listening. If Cassandra could try, surely Varric could meet her halfway.
For now, though, Ariana let herself enjoy the lighter atmosphere. The frostbitten trail seemed a little less daunting, the cold air a little less harsh. Perhaps, she thought, they could all learn to work together after all.
~~~
The night was still, the campfire crackling softly as it cast flickering shadows across the clearing. Varric leaned against a log, his tankard resting loosely in his hand. The warmth of the fire wasn’t enough to chase away the chill that clung to him, though he wasn’t sure if it was the mountain air or his own mood.
Across the fire, Ariana sat cross-legged, absently toying with a loose thread on her cloak. She had that look—the one that meant she was about to dig into something he didn’t want to talk about. He braced himself, taking a long sip of his drink.
“You want to tell me what that was about earlier?” she asked, her voice casual but carrying the weight of expectation.
Varric didn’t bother looking at her, his smirk lazy. “You’re going to have to be more specific, pup. I’ve had a lot of ‘moments’ today.”
She didn’t laugh. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, her expression unwavering. Maker, she wasn’t going to let this go.
“Don’t play coy, Varric,” she said, leaning forward slightly. “You know what I mean. Why do you keep poking at Cassandra?”
Varric sighed, swirling the last of his drink in his tankard. “Because it’s easy,” he said after a beat. It was the truth, though not the whole truth. “And because she’s been on my case since day one.”
“And this is how you handle it?” Ariana asked, her tone sharpening. “By giving her more reasons to stay on your case?”
He shrugged, his smirk fading. “Maybe I enjoy getting under her skin.”
It was deflection, and they both knew it. The problem with traveling with someone who knew him as well as Ariana did was that she saw straight through his walls, no matter how high he tried to build them.
“Maybe,” she said, her voice quieter now, “but I don’t buy it. You’re smarter than that, Varric. So what’s the real reason?”
He didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the fire. He didn’t want to say it—to admit that Cassandra reminded him too much of everyone who had been responsible for what happened in Kirkwal. Someone rigid in their beliefs. Her questions, her mistrust, felt like a weight he couldn’t shake. And he didn’t understand her motivations.
“People like her,” he said finally, his voice low, “don’t care about people like me.”
The bitterness in his tone surprised even him. He hadn’t meant to let it show, but Ariana didn’t flinch. She leaned back slightly, her expression softening. “You’re wrong,” she said firmly. “Cassandra does care. She’s just… not great at showing it.”
Varric scoffed, shaking his head. “She’s great at showing suspicion. I’ll give her that.”
“She’s trying,” Ariana pressed. “To trust you. To connect with you. You don’t make it easy for her.”
Her words struck deeper than he expected, and Varric found himself glancing at her. “Why do you even care? It’s not like you’re her biggest fan.”
Ariana chuckled softly. “Maybe not, but I’ve traveled with her long enough to realize something. Cassandra’s not unfriendly—she’s just… not like us. She’s serious, reserved. That doesn’t mean she’s not trying.”
Varric looked away, his jaw tightening. He hated how much sense Ariana made sometimes.
“She asks questions because she wants to know who you are, not just what you’ve done,” Ariana continued. “She respects you, Varric. Even admires you, though she’d probably never admit it.”
That drew a humorless laugh from him. “Admire me? Seeker Pentaghast? Yeah, right.”
Ariana’s lips curved into a small smile. “She does. But she’s spent her whole life being told that emotions are weaknesses, that trust is a weapon. She’s trying to figure out who she is without all the titles and expectations. Sound familiar?”
Varric blinked, caught off guard by the pointedness of her words. He knew what she was implying—and damn it, she wasn’t wrong.
“You’ve got a way of making a guy feel like an ass,” he muttered, taking a swig from his tankard.
Ariana grinned, leaning back against the log. “It’s a gift.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Fine. I’ll give her a chance. But if she goes back to calling me ‘prisoner,’ I’m blaming you.”
“Fair enough,” Ariana said, her grin widening. “Just… try, Varric. You might be surprised.”
He studied her for a moment, the firelight catching the warmth in her eyes. She’d changed since Kirkwall—grown wiser, steadier. He hadn’t said it out loud, but he was proud of her.
“You’ve changed, pup,” he said, his tone softer now. “Gotten all wise and philosophical on me.”
“Don’t worry,” she replied with a wink. “I’m still insufferable.”
Varric laughed, the tension in his chest easing as he settled back against the log. “Goodnight, pup.”
“Goodnight, Varric,” she said, her voice light but sincere.
As the fire crackled between them, Varric let his mind wander. Maybe Ariana was right—maybe he had been too hard on Cassandra. And maybe, just maybe, he could try to ease up a bit. After all, stranger things had happened.
~~~
The road into the Hinterlands was quiet, save for the soft rustle of boots against dry dirt and the occasional hum of insects flitting through the air. The early morning mist clung stubbornly to the lowlands, though the rising sun promised to burn it away soon. The scent of wildflowers and sun-warmed grass drifted on the breeze, a stark contrast to the heavy thoughts weighing on Ariana’s mind. She kept her pace brisk, her focus ahead, piecing together what awaited them in Redcliffe.
She didn’t have to wonder long. A familiar figure leaned casually against a large boulder just off the trail, arms crossed and a lopsided grin already forming.
“Well, well,” Riley called, her voice carrying easily. “The Herald of Andraste graces the Hinterlands with her presence. You’re making quite the habit of keeping me waiting, Wolf.”
Ariana rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at her lips. “I wasn’t aware we were on a schedule, Lieutenant.”
“You are now,” Riley shot back, pushing off the rock and striding toward the group. “And you’re late.”
“And you look like you’ve been waiting for trouble,” Ariana noted, her brow quirking as she gestured to Riley’s unusually tense stance.
“Trouble is exactly why I’m here,” Riley said, her tone sobering. “Something’s wrong in Redcliffe.”
“Go on,” Ariana said, her voice steady despite the unease curling in her chest.
“The gates are sealed,” Riley began, her arms crossing again. “There’s a strange rift just outside the village. The Rangers stationed nearby say it’s unlike anything we’ve encountered so far—feels more unstable. And…” She hesitated for just a moment, her gaze flicking to the others before returning to Ariana. “There are rumors of Tevinter magisters in Redcliffe.”
“Tevinter?” Cassandra’s tone was sharp, her expression darkening. “What could they possibly want with Redcliffe?”
“Nothing good,” Riley replied grimly. “And that’s not all. Arl Teagan has abandoned the village. He rode for Denerim, leaving Redcliffe leaderless. Whatever’s going on there, it’s bad enough that even the Arl didn’t want to stay.”
Ariana let out a slow breath, her hand rubbing at her temple. “Wonderful,” she muttered, her tone dry. “So, no leadership, a sealed gate, a rift, and Tevinter magisters. Anything else I should know?”
Riley shrugged. “Cullen thinks you should head for the Templars instead.”
Ariana froze mid-step, her head snapping up to look at Riley. “Oh? Does he now?” Her brow arched. “And how exactly do you know this?”
Riley’s grin was far too pleased. “He sent me a communication,” she said casually. “Wanted to make sure you weren’t rushing into anything too dangerous.”
“Did he, now?” Ariana’s voice was flat, though there was a faint edge of feigned annoyance. “And let me guess—you already reported back to him about the Tevinter magisters?”
“Of course,” Riley said with a shrug, entirely unapologetic. “I figured he’d want to know. You’re always telling me to anticipate the client’s needs, remember?”
Ariana groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Riley, do you remember who you’re supposed to be working for?”
“You told me we’re working for the Inquisition,” Riley countered smoothly, her grin widening. “And he’s the client, Wolf.”
Varric let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying the exchange. “She’s got you there, pup.”
“I should have left you in Haven,” Ariana muttered, though her lips quirked into a reluctant smile. “Anything else you’ve reported to our ‘client’ that I should know about?”
“Not yet,” Riley replied, her tone light. “But I’m always open to suggestions.”
Cassandra, who had been quiet until now, crossed her arms and fixed Ariana with a pointed look. “Perhaps the Commander is right. The Templars could be a safer option.”
“Yes, because a potentially corrupted Lord Seeker is safer…” Ariana replied, her tone sharper than intended. She met Cassandra’s gaze evenly. “The breach won’t close itself. And we don’t know where the Templars are or if they’d even listen to us. The mages may be our only chance.”
“And what if the mages in Redcliffe are already compromised?” Cassandra pressed, her voice unwavering. “If the rumors of Tevinter magisters are true…”
“We’ll deal with it,” Ariana said firmly. “We don’t have the luxury of second-guessing every decision. We’ll assess the situation when we get there.”
Riley watched the exchange with interest, finally breaking the tension with a shrug. “Whatever you decide, Wolf, I’ll back you. Just… be careful, yeah?”
Ariana sighed, her expression softening. “Always,” she said, her tone lighter now. “Thanks for the warning, Riley.”
Riley nodded, her grin returning. “Don’t mention it. Just don’t get dead, alright? I’d hate to have to explain that to Cullen.”
“Noted,” Ariana said dryly, shaking her head as they resumed their march toward Redcliffe.
As the group moved on, Riley fell in step beside Ariana, her expression thoughtful. “You know,” she said after a moment, her tone casual but her eyes sharp, “you and Cullen… you could just make things easier for yourselves and stop dancing around what you both—”
“Oh, now you want us back together,” Ariana cut her off, her voice carrying just enough warning to make Riley grin. “Are we forgetting you hid news of him for four months?”
“Fine, fine,” Riley said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “But for the record, I’ve always thought you were good together.”
Ariana rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the brief smile that tugged at her lips.
The banter carried them down the road, the tension between them easing even as the looming shadow of Redcliffe grew closer.
~~~
As they arrived at Redcliffe, the gates were closed as Riley had reported, and a rift loomed just ahead. The air around it shimmered unnaturally, the distortion bending light and sound in ways that made Ariana’s skin crawl. Time itself seemed to fracture near the rift, creating a nauseating sense of disorientation.
The demons poured out in waves, but the party dispatched them with the efficiency of seasoned warriors. When the rift finally closed, the distorted air stilled, though the unease it left lingered.
“What was that?” Ariana asked, her tone sharp and commanding. The scene was wrong—deeply unsettling—but fear wasn’t an option.
Cassandra sheathed her blade with deliberate precision. “We don’t know what these rifts can do. That one appeared to alter time around it.”
Ariana pressed her lips into a thin line, her expression hardening. “Something is very wrong here. Stay on your guard.” Her voice was firm, unshaken, though her thoughts churned.
Her mind flickered briefly to Cullen’s warnings. He had urged caution, worried the mages might be too desperate, too unstable to trust. Maybe he was right about that part, she thought grimly. But right or not, she wouldn’t let Redcliffe fall to this. She had spent years rebuilding after the Blight—after Ferelden had been brought to its knees—and she would not let it be invaded by outsiders, no matter their supposed justification.
When they entered the gates, an Inquisition scout hurried to meet them. “Your Worship, we’ve spread word that the Inquisition was coming, but you should know—no one here seems to have been expecting us.”
“No one?” Ariana’s voice was calm, but her unease deepened. “Not even Grand Enchanter Fiona?”
“If she was, she hasn’t told anyone,” the scout replied nervously. “You’ll find the tavern secured for negotiations.”
The scout’s reluctance to linger only sharpened Ariana’s resolve. She directed him to return to Haven with a full report, then pressed forward with her companions. The village felt eerily quiet—no sign of Arl Teagan or his guards, and the few villagers they passed seemed weary, their eyes hollow.
Just as they reached the village square, an elven mage emerged from the shadows. “Agents of the Inquisition, my apologies!” he exclaimed, bowing with theatrical flourish. “Magister Alexius is in charge now but hasn’t yet arrived. You may speak with the former Grand Enchanter in the meantime.”
“Magister Alexius?” Ariana repeated, her tone sharp. Her jaw tightened. The word alone felt like a taunt, a challenge. She had fought against invaders before. This was no different. “Well, it sounds like Riley’s information was accurate.”
“What’s a Tevinter Magister doing here?” Cassandra demanded, her suspicion sharpening the air.
Varric muttered, “I don’t like this, pup. This whole place reeks of trouble.”
Ariana’s jaw set as her gaze swept the village. “Trouble or not, we’re here. And we’re going to fix it.” Her voice carried the weight of years spent protecting this land, of refusing to let Ferelden fall again. They don’t belong here.
Inside the tavern, Grand Enchanter Fiona greeted them as though they were strangers. “Welcome, agents of the Inquisition,” she said with a polite smile. “What has brought you to Redcliffe?”
Ariana froze, her confusion giving way to irritation. “Is this some kind of test?” she asked sharply. “We’re here because you invited us in Val Royeaux.”
Fiona frowned, her brow furrowing. “You must be mistaken,” she said slowly. “I haven’t been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave.”
Ariana’s breath caught in her chest. She exchanged bewildered glances with Cassandra, Varric, and Solas. The pieces of the puzzle didn’t fit, and every second deepened her unease.
“Well,” Ariana began, her voice tight, “then that’s very odd, because someone who looked exactly like you spoke to me and asked me to come here.”
“Exactly like me…” Fiona repeated softly, her voice trailing off as though the phrase itself unraveled something in her mind. For the first time, her composure cracked—just a flicker, quickly hidden.
“Regardless of who sent you, the situation has changed,” Fiona continued, her tone becoming flat. “The free mages have already pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium.”
Ariana stared at her, the words echoing in her mind. “I’m sorry… you did what?”
Cassandra’s discomfort was palpable. “An alliance with Tevinter? Do you not fear all of Thedas turning against you?”
Varric, ever quick with a quip, muttered, “Andraste’s ass… I’m trying to think of a single worse thing you could have done. And I’ve got nothing.”
Solas, calm and deliberate, added, “I understand your desperation, but you deserve better than slavery to Tevinter.”
Before they could press further, the door opened, revealing two men—Magister Alexius and his son, Felix. Alexius exuded an air of smug authority as he entered, his gaze lingering on Ariana with an unsettling intensity.
“You must be the Herald of Andraste,” Alexius said, his tone syrupy and insincere. “What an honor.”
Ariana met his gaze head-on, her hazel-green eyes unyielding. So, this is the man pulling the strings. Her discomfort with him was undeniable, but it only hardened her resolve. She had dealt with men like him before—arrogant, entitled, used to getting what they wanted. She wasn’t about to back down now.
“You’re quite a long way from Tevinter, Alexius,” she said coldly. “What brings you to Ferelden?”
“Ah,” Alexius said smoothly, “Indeed I am, though I have heard you are no Ferelden either. It seems we are both strangers here.”
The veiled threat in his words only strengthened Ariana’s determination. He didn’t know, he didn’t need to know. But as far as Ariana was concerned, this was her home. She may not have been born here, but she had endured the worst this age had to offer with Ferelden. And she would not abandon it now. She certainly would not let a Tevinter magister take Redcliffe.
Their conversation continued, each word deepening Ariana’s conviction that Alexius was a threat. When Felix nearly collapsed, Ariana caught him quickly, masking her surprise when he slipped a note into her hand. She steadied him as Alexius made a show of concern, then excused himself with Felix in tow.
Once they were gone, Ariana unfolded the note: Come to the Chantry. You are in danger.
She exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening around the paper. “Well, I had mostly figured that out already,” she muttered, though her voice carried an edge of sarcasm that didn’t mask her frustration.
Cassandra stepped closer, her expression grim. “The Commander may have been right about the mages.”
Ariana didn’t respond immediately, her gaze fixed on the door Alexius had vanished through. Finally, she spoke, her voice low but resolute. “He might have been. But this is my home. And I’m not going to let Tevinter stake a claim here.”
She tucked the note into her pocket and turned to her companions, her expression hard and unflinching. “We’re going to the Chantry. We’ll figure this out. And if Alexius thinks he can take Ferelden while I’m standing here, he’s going to learn just how wrong he is.”
The group exchanged glances before falling in step behind her. Whatever dangers lay ahead, Ariana’s determination burned brighter than her doubts. She wasn’t afraid of Alexius. She was ready to remind him—and anyone else—what it meant to defend Ferelden.
~~~
As they entered the Chantry, Ariana’s senses went on high alert. The rift above churned violently, its distortion bending the air around it. The sound was a sharp, grating hum that clawed at the edges of her mind, and the space felt charged with an oppressive energy that made her skin prickle. In the midst of the chaos, a lone mage stood with practiced ease, firing spells at the demons pouring from the rift as though this was a simple exercise.
“Good! You’re finally here! Now help me close this, would you?” the mage called, his voice carrying an almost breezy amusement that felt jarringly out of place.
Ariana’s eyes narrowed, her gaze locking onto him for the briefest moment. His finely tailored robes were immaculate—so much so it was almost insulting in the face of their surroundings. Everything about him, from his sharp features to the deliberate flourish of his movements, screamed Tevinter. He wielded his magic with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, the kind of ease that only came with privilege and power.
Still, there was something undeniably charismatic about him. His quick smirk and sparkling eyes exuded intelligence and charm. It was disarming, almost deliberately so. Ariana remained cautious but couldn’t deny her first impression. She liked him. There was something about him that seemed… honest.
Her focus snapped back to the rift as the fight demanded her attention. The demons came in waves, but she and her companions dispatched them with the efficiency of seasoned warriors. Each strike and spell flowed with the rhythm of their shared battles, and when Ariana sealed the rift with the mark, the oppressive energy in the room seemed to release, leaving only an uneasy silence behind.
The mage stepped closer, his brown eyes alight with curiosity. “Fascinating,” he remarked, his tone carrying the detached enthusiasm of a scholar. “How does that work, exactly? You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers, and boom—rift closes.”
Ariana crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at his irreverence. “You’re the mage. Why don’t you explain it to me?” she replied dryly, her voice tinged with amusement.
His smirk widened, clearly enjoying her response. “Oooh, feisty. I like it,” he said, inclining his head in a mock bow. “I am Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?”
Before she could respond, Cassandra stepped forward, her posture rigid with distrust. “Another Tevinter. Be cautious with this one.”
Dorian turned to her, unfazed, and offered a disarming smile. “Suspicious friends you have here,” he said lightly. “Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable—more so than you probably deserve.”
Ariana studied him carefully, weighing his words against the instincts that rarely failed her. He was confident—too confident, perhaps—but there was something refreshingly honest in his arrogance. Despite her natural caution, she felt herself relaxing slightly. “I was expecting Felix,” she said, watching him closely.
“He’s on his way,” Dorian replied breezily. “His task was to get the note to you and then meet us here after ditching his father.”
“So, the note was from you,” Ariana said, her curiosity piqued.
“It was,” Dorian confirmed, his smirk turning playful. “Someone had to warn you, after all. It would be a shame for someone like you to get killed.”
Her lips quirked into a small smile despite herself. “Why is that? The mark or my charming personality?”
“Can it be both?” Dorian quipped. “Though let’s not overlook your looks. It would be a tragedy for Thedas.”
The banter came so easily it surprised her. Ariana chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You Tevinter mages and your silver tongues.”
“It’s not silver, my dear Herald,” Dorian replied with mock sincerity, “it’s platinum.”
Cassandra sighed audibly, clearly unimpressed, but Ariana found herself genuinely amused. Beneath the arrogance and flair, there was an honesty to Dorian that she couldn’t ignore. He didn’t seem the type to hide his intentions—he was exactly as he presented himself, for better or worse.
Before Ariana could respond, Dorian’s expression sobered. “Jokes aside, you must know there’s danger here,” he said, his voice lowering. “That much should be obvious without the note. Let’s start with Alexius claiming all the rebel mages out from under you. As if by magic. Which, in this case, is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself.”
“He arranged it so he could arrive here just after the Divine died?” Ariana asked, frowning as the puzzle pieces refused to fit together neatly.
“That is fascinating, if true… and almost certainly dangerous,” Solas interjected, his voice thoughtful.
“The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it’s unraveling the world,” Dorian explained.
“Wonderful. I was really starting to get bored of only having the Breach to deal with…” Ariana quipped dryly.
“My father’s joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves the Venatori,” came Felix’s voice from behind them. He looked pale and exhausted but determined. “And I can tell you one thing: whatever he’s done for them, he’s done it to get to you.”
“To me?” Ariana asked, her unease growing. “Why would he rearrange time and enslave mages just to target me?”
Ariana could already imagine Cullen’s reaction to this. He wouldn’t be happy. Knowing she was being specifically targeted by a group of Tevinter supremacists would set him on edge and there would be no calming him down from that.
“They’re obsessed with you,” Felix replied grimly. “Perhaps because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?”
“Well, this is all very flattering,” Ariana said dryly, though her sarcasm couldn’t quite mask her tension. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint him. I’m very unavailable.”
Dorian’s eyebrow arched, and he leaned closer. “Is that so? Should I be taking notes?”
Varric interjected, his tone protective. “Since when?”
Ariana shrugged, a faint smirk forming. “Always unavailable to evil Tevinter Magisters intent on destroying the world. It just wouldn’t work.”
Dorian perked up, his grin returning. “Oh, is that all? Then what about a good Tevinter mage trying to save it?”
“Hadn’t ever considered there was such a thing,” Ariana teased, the spark in her eyes unmistakable. “But I guess anything’s possible.”
Dorian laughed, clearly pleased. “I’ll consider that an opportunity.”
Ariana laughed with him, the levity of their exchange momentarily cutting through the tension. Yet even as she smiled, the weight of Felix’s words lingered in her mind.
“In any case,” Dorian continued, his voice growing serious, “now you know you’re his target. Expecting the trap is the first step. I can’t stay in Redcliffe; Alexius doesn’t know I’m here, and I’d like to keep it that way. I’ll be in touch.” He turned to leave but paused to add, “Felix, try not to get yourself killed.”
“There are worse things than dying, Dorian,” Felix replied quietly, his voice heavy with resignation.
As Dorian exited, Ariana exchanged a glance with her companions. The playful mage had left much unsaid, but what he had revealed painted an ominous picture of what lay ahead. Whatever this was, was more dangerous than the Breach itself. Whether or not the mages were desperate was no longer the question or the problem.
After they exited the Chantry, Cassandra finally broke the tense silence. “This whole business is distasteful. Perhaps we are better off pursuing the Templars instead.”
“I’d bet you ten royals whatever the Templars are doing is just as weird,” Varric replied, crossing his arms. “Probably involves chanting, blood magic, or some elaborate helmet polishing ceremony.”
Ariana shook her head, her voice firm. “And regardless, we now have to deal with this. We can’t ignore this threat now. Don’t think we need to rip a hole in time in addition to the one in the sky.”
“Besides,” she added, glancing at each of them, “maybe these ‘Venatori’ are affecting both. We already know something is wrong with the Lord Seeker. Whatever is happening here may be connected.”
Cassandra frowned but gave a reluctant nod. “You may be right. But the risk—”
“Is one we don’t have a choice but to face,” Ariana interrupted. “We need to return to Haven, regroup, and prepare. This isn’t just about mages or Templars anymore. It’s about the entire world unraveling. And that’s on us to stop.”
Varric gave a low whistle. “No pressure, huh?”
Ariana glanced at him, the corners of her mouth tugging into a wry smile despite the weight of the situation. “If it were easy, you wouldn’t have come along, would you?”
“Touché, pup,” Varric replied with a smirk, already falling into step behind her as they began their journey back.
~~~
The campfire crackled softly in the night, its warmth cutting through the cool evening air. Ariana approached Solas, her steps slow, her thoughts churning from the day’s revelations. He sat slightly apart from the others, his posture calm yet deliberate, his gaze fixed on the flames as though he could see some hidden truth within them.
“Solas,” Ariana began, her tone thoughtful, “have you ever encountered anything like the magic we saw in Redcliffe? The distortion of time?”
Solas looked up, his expression serene but tinged with curiosity. “No,” he replied plainly. “I am not aware of any magic like that—at least, none I have personally witnessed.”
Ariana tilted her head slightly, unconvinced. “What about your… spirit friends?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of playful skepticism. “Could they have seen something like it?”
The corners of Solas’s mouth twitched upward in the faintest hint of a smile. “An interesting phrasing,” he said, his voice light with amusement. “Perhaps they have. Time within the Fade is not bound as it is in this world. Moments exist simultaneously, stretch, or fold back upon themselves. It is a place of infinite possibility and fluidity.”
He paused, his expression sharpening as though weighing his words carefully. “If I were to theorize,” he continued, “such a spell—one capable of distorting time—would likely draw upon the Fade. It would require manipulating the Veil itself, pulling the Fade closer to this world to warp reality. That might explain why the Veil in Redcliffe feels both weaker and… disturbed.”
Ariana lowered herself onto a nearby log, her brow furrowed. “So it’s like forcing the rules of the Fade onto our world?” she asked, her voice thoughtful. “If Alexius has figured out how to do that, it makes him far more dangerous than I thought.”
“Precisely,” Solas replied, his voice patient yet deliberate. “The Fade is a realm of endless possibility but also of unchecked chaos. To tear the Veil, to force the two realms to overlap, is not simply dangerous—it is destructive. Magic of that nature could unravel far more than time itself.”
Ariana drew in a slow breath, her arms resting on her knees as she processed his words. The image of Redcliffe’s shimmering distortion burned in her mind, the nauseating wrongness of it. “It explains why everything feels so off there,” she murmured. “And why the mages are so desperate. But how does someone even begin to create something like this?”
Solas studied her intently, his gaze thoughtful but unyielding. “You seek answers not out of fear or prejudice, but out of a desire to understand,” he said, his tone carrying a quiet note of respect. “It is a rare quality among those who wield authority. Refreshing, even.”
Ariana met his gaze, her lips quirking into a faint smile. “Knowledge is a tool,” Her expression sobered. “If I can understand what’s happening, maybe we can stop it.”
Solas inclined his head slightly, his tone shifting to something almost conspiratorial. “A wise approach. Though I suspect Alexius’s mastery did not come from his own ingenuity alone. The Venatori… whoever they truly are, may have provided him with knowledge—or a guide.”
Ariana’s smile faded as she considered his words. “That’s not exactly comforting,” she muttered.
“Few truths are,” Solas replied, his gaze returning to the fire. “But they are necessary, nonetheless.”
For a moment, they sat in companionable silence, the weight of the conversation settling over them. The firelight danced across Solas’s face, casting him in sharp relief—neither entirely ally nor entirely unknown. Ariana’s unease lingered, but so too did her resolve. Whatever lay ahead, she would meet it head-on.