23 Bloomingtide 9:41
Cullen stood near the gates, issuing final instructions to the troops. His sharp commands cut through the morning air, but his mind was elsewhere. His gaze kept drifting toward the center of camp, scanning the movements of soldiers and mages alike. Despite the meticulous preparations, an unease had taken root within him. Something he couldn’t shake.
Then he saw her.
Ariana emerged from her quarters, and for a moment, Cullen’s words failed him. Her armor, though practical, carried an undeniable elegance—deep blue accented with silver etchings that caught the morning light, regal without being ostentatious. The fitted leather corset hugged her form, emphasizing her strength more than her figure, while the fur-lined cloak draped over her shoulders lent her an air of quiet authority. Her hands flexed briefly at her sides, the faint glow of the mark on her palm catching his eye even through the glove. Her daggers rested at her hips, their hilts familiar and ready, but there was no tension in her stance. Instead, there was resolve—steady, enduring, and unwavering.
She moved with the quiet confidence he had come to admire, but Cullen could see the weight in her posture—the awareness of what lay ahead. The Breach pulsed ominously in the distance, and though she was determined, no one could face such a trial without feeling its enormity.
Their eyes met across the distance, and he inclined his head, his silent acknowledgment drawing a faint smile from her. She adjusted her stride, walking toward him.
“Commander,” she said as she approached, her tone light but carrying a note of finality.
“Ariana,” he replied, his voice softer than he intended. He glanced around briefly, ensuring the soldiers were occupied before stepping closer and placing a hand on her waist. “Are you ready?”
“As much as I’ll ever be,” she replied, a flicker of humor in her voice. But her eyes betrayed her. She was steady, focused—but not invincible. And the knowledge tightened something in his chest.
“Ariana,” he began, his tone dropping to something quieter, more personal. “I need you to promise me something.”
She tilted her head slightly, a flicker of curiosity crossing her face. “What is it?”
“Be careful,” he said, the words heavy with meaning. “I know what’s at stake—I know what you’re walking into. But I also know you. You take risks, more than you should, and I can’t—” He cut himself off, his jaw tightening as he fought to find the right words. “I can’t lose you.”
Her expression softened, and she took a step closer. “Cullen…”
He met her gaze, the intensity in his eyes catching her off guard. “Promise me, Ariana. Promise me you’ll come back.”
Her expression softened as she placed her hand on his arm. “Is that an order, Commander?” she asked, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.
Cullen blinked, momentarily taken aback before a soft chuckle escaped him. “It is,” he said, his tone light but the earnestness in his eyes unwavering.
Ariana shook her head, her smile widening. “You’re awfully demanding, you know that?”
“It’s a skill that comes with the rank,” he replied, his lips quirking into a small smile.
“Well,” she said, tilting her head slightly, “I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.”
“You never do,” Cullen replied softly, his gaze holding hers. “But I need your promise, Ariana. Promise me you’ll come back.”
Her teasing expression faltered, replaced by something more serious. She hesitated, the weight of his request settling over her. “I’ll do everything I can to come back,” she said quietly. “I promise.”
He exhaled, relief flickering across his face, though his concern didn’t entirely fade. “Thank you.”
For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of the morning pressing down on them. Finally, Ariana broke the tension with a faint smirk. “You know, for someone who claims he can’t lose me, you’re very good at sending me off into mortal danger.”
Cullen let out a soft laugh, the sound easing some of the tension in the air. “It’s not my preference, believe me.”
“Good,” she quipped, the lightness returning to her voice. “I’d hate to think you were getting comfortable with it.”
“Not in the slightest,” he replied, his smile softening as he glanced toward the Breach. “But I believe in you, Ariana. More than you know.”
Her smirk softened into a genuine smile, and she inclined her head. “I’ll see you when this is done, Commander.”
“Until then… Herald,” Cullen said, his voice steady but warm.
As she turned and walked away, Cullen watched her go, the unease in his chest warring with the flicker of hope her promise had given him. Today, the fate of the world rested on her shoulders—and all he could do was trust her to return.
~~~
The weight of Cullen’s words followed Ariana like a shadow as they neared the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The brisk mountain air stung her cheeks, but the ache in her chest was far harder to ignore. Promise me you’ll come back.
The memory played over and over, each repetition tying a knot tighter around her ribs. He hadn’t just asked her—he’d ordered her, his voice both unyielding and pleading. The desperation in his eyes had spoken louder than his words, and she’d felt it like a blow. She had promised, of course, but she knew promises weren’t guarantees.
Ahead of her, Solas walked with his usual grace, his shoulders set with purpose. He was explaining something about the mark and its connection to the Veil, but his voice barely registered over the noise in her head. The Breach pulsed ominously in the sky, its unnatural green glow casting an eerie light over their path.
“Ariana,” Solas said, his voice breaking through her thoughts. He slowed his pace, turning to meet her gaze. “Are you listening?”
She blinked, refocusing. “Yes,” she lied, though her tone lacked conviction.
Solas turned back toward her, his expression unreadable. “Remember, Herald,” he said quietly, his tone cautious but firm. “When the time comes, you must focus. The energy will be overwhelming, and the temptation to let it consume you will be strong. You must fight it.”
“I will,” Ariana interrupted, her voice firmer now. “I know what’s at stake.”
Solas nodded, though his expression betrayed a flicker of doubt. “Good. Then let us proceed.”
Cassandra fell into step beside her, her presence a steadying force. “You will succeed,” she said, her tone more commanding than reassuring. “You have come this far. Do not falter now.”
“I don’t intend to,” Ariana replied, though her voice was softer than Cassandra’s.
Still, Cullen’s voice echoed in her mind. Promise me you’ll come back. She had given him that promise, but as she stared ahead at the Breach, she couldn’t ignore the uncertainty gnawing at her. She knew what she was walking into, knew the risks, but Cullen’s words had turned the stakes into something more personal.
Dorian, sensing the tension, sidled up beside her. “You know,” he began, his tone light, “if you die up there, I’m going to be insufferable. I’ll have to write a tragic ode, mourn you dramatically, and make everyone feel guilty for not appreciating you enough while you were alive.”
Ariana snorted softly despite herself. “Is that your idea of encouragement?”
“Encouragement?” Dorian feigned offense, placing a hand over his chest. “Darling, I’m trying to motivate you with the sheer horror of leaving me to suffer through all this without you.”
“You’re terrible at this,” she said, shaking her head.
“Terrible? Or brilliant?” he quipped, flashing her a grin. “I’m fairly certain it’s the latter.”
“Both,” Cassandra interjected, her tone dry.
“Ah, Seeker,” Dorian said with a dramatic sigh. “Your faith in me is as unwavering as ever.”
“Unwaveringly skeptical,” she replied, though a faint smirk tugged at her lips.
Ariana allowed herself a brief smile, the banter pulling her from her thoughts, if only for a moment. But as they continued their march, her mind inevitably returned to Cullen. The way he’d looked at her, the way his hand had lingered on her waist—it had been more than worry. It had been fear.
And she hated that she couldn’t ease it.
I will survive, she told herself again, her hand unconsciously brushing the mark on her palm. The faint glow pulsed beneath her glove, a reminder of the power she carried—and the cost it might demand.
“Peace and quiet,” she muttered under her breath, echoing the earlier banter. “I could use that right about now.”
“Boring,” Dorian replied, overhearing her. “But if it’s what you truly want, I suppose I could learn to respect it. Temporarily.”
She smiled faintly, but her gaze remained fixed on the Breach. It loomed larger now, its malevolent light casting their shadows long across the rocky path.
Just survive, she thought again, her promise to Cullen like an anchor in the storm of her thoughts. Whatever happens, just survive. And she would. No matter the cost. Because losing him again wasn’t something she could bear. Not when they had finally found their way back to each other. Not when they still had a future to fight for.
~~~
The Temple of Sacred Ashes loomed before them, its ruins casting jagged, haunting shadows over the gathered forces stationed at a “safe” distance. Soldiers and templars held their positions, their stances rigid, the tension palpable even from afar. The area closest to the Breach was reserved for Ariana, Cassandra, Solas, Dorian, and the mages prepared to lend their strength.
Ariana stared up at the swirling, sickly green tear in the sky. It pulsed with an unnatural rhythm, like a heartbeat gone horribly wrong, casting an eerie glow over the shattered remnants of the temple. The sight of it twisted something deep inside her, a mix of dread and resolve. This was it—the moment that would decide everything.
Solas stepped forward, his voice calm yet commanding as he addressed the mages. “Focus past the Herald! Let her will draw from you. Offer no resistance—be as the current to her hand.”
The mages nodded, their expressions a mix of fear, determination, and resignation. Ariana took a deep breath, her fingers curling into fists before she forced them to relax. Her heart pounded in her chest, loud and steady, as if trying to remind her she was still alive. For now.
The Breach loomed impossibly large, its hum vibrating through her bones, making the mark on her hand throb in recognition. It felt as though the Breach itself saw her, hated her for daring to challenge it. She didn’t need to glance back to know every eye was on her—companions, soldiers, templars, and mages alike. For them, she couldn’t falter.
But her thoughts betrayed her. Cullen’s voice echoed in her mind, unshakable and grounding. Promise me you’ll come back. Promise me.
How could I have promised him that? she thought bitterly, her gaze fixed on the Breach. She felt the warmth of his hand again, the intensity of his eyes, the weight of his words. She had meant it when she said she’d come back—Maker, how she had meant it. But now, standing in the shadow of the Breach, the sheer force of its energy washing over her like an ocean tide, the promise felt fragile, breakable.
And yet, she couldn’t let it end here. She couldn’t let the last few days—their quiet moments, their stolen glances, and the memory of his hand brushing her cheek—be the only thing they got. After all these years, after everything they had lost, she couldn’t leave it at that. She had once promised him her whole life, and now, more than ever, she was determined that life would be a long one. It has to be.
“You can do this, Herald,” Cassandra said from behind her, her voice steady and strong. Ariana glanced over her shoulder and saw the Seeker’s nod of encouragement, the rare softness in her otherwise stern expression.
Dorian caught her eye, offering a grin. “Don’t forget to make it look good. You’ve got an audience.”
Ariana huffed a quiet laugh, though it was more an exhale than anything else. Solas stood still, his expression unreadable but his presence somehow steadying.
Turning back to the Breach, Ariana raised her hand. The mark on her palm ignited, searing with light as the power surged outward. She forced her focus onto the rift, drawing on the strength of the mages behind her. Energy crackled in the air, wild and volatile, threatening to pull her apart as she wrestled to control it.
The torrent of magic felt endless, an ocean she was trying to contain with bare hands. It was chaos—violent, unrelenting chaos—and it demanded everything from her. Her mind screamed for relief, her body trembled from the strain, but she refused to give in.
The Breach pushed back, its power surging in defiance. For a terrible moment, she thought it might consume her entirely. But then Cullen’s words came back, firm and steady: But I believe in you, Ariana. More than you know.
Then believe in me now, she thought fiercely. Gritting her teeth, she pushed harder, her entire being focused on the task. The mark flared brighter, and the Breach wavered, its edges folding inward.
With a deafening sound like thunder splitting the heavens, the Breach collapsed in on itself. The green light dimmed, folding smaller and smaller until, with a final boom, it vanished. A shockwave rippled outward, throwing everyone to the ground.
The silence that followed was staggering.
Cassandra was the first to recover, scrambling to her feet and scanning the area. Mages groaned as they pulled themselves upright, many looking dazed. Soldiers in the distance stood frozen, their breaths visible in the chill morning air.
“Ariana?” Cassandra’s voice was sharp, urgent as her eyes searched the wreckage.
Near the center of the ruins, Ariana was down on one knee, her hand pressed into the ground for balance. Her breathing was heavy, her head bowed, but she was upright. Cassandra was at her side in moments, kneeling to place a firm hand on her shoulder.
“You did it!” Cassandra said, her voice filled with a rare note of pride and something bordering on awe.
Ariana raised her head, exhaustion plain on her face. For a moment, she simply blinked at Cassandra, her mind struggling to process the words. Then, slowly, a small, tired smile tugged at her lips. “We did it,” she corrected softly.
The cheers began faintly, scattered voices among the mages and soldiers. Then, like a wave, the sound grew, rolling across the battlefield as the realization of what had happened sank in. The Breach was gone.
Ariana swayed as she stood, Cassandra immediately steadying her. Her legs felt like lead, and every muscle in her body protested, but she forced herself upright.
Dorian and Solas reached her, their expressions triumphant.
“Not bad for someone who just traveled through time,” Dorian said with a grin, clapping her lightly on the shoulder.
Solas offered a small nod of approval. “You are more resilient than I gave you credit for, Herald.”
Ariana let out a soft laugh, though it was weak. Her gaze drifted to the temple ruins behind them, the absence of the Breach almost surreal. For the first time in what felt like ages, there was a glimmer of hope.
Cassandra fell into step beside her as they began walking back, her voice quieter now. “You should be proud. You’ve given them something to believe in.”
Ariana’s eyes remained distant, her thoughts lingering on Cullen, on the promise she’d made. This isn’t over, she thought as she glanced at her trembling hand. I promised him I’d come back—and I did. But now I need to keep fighting. For him. For us.
And as they moved through the cheering crowd, her hand drifted briefly to her left forearm. A phantom ache lingered there, a subtle reminder of what she had survived before—and the strength she would need to keep going.
~~~
Cullen stood at the edge of the camp, his posture rigid, arms crossed tightly over his chest. The soldiers around him were cheering, their voices rising in jubilant waves that carried through the chill morning air. But he barely heard it. His gaze was fixed on the distant path winding down from the temple ruins, every muscle in his body taut with anticipation.
The Breach was gone—that much was clear. The gaping wound in the sky, the unnatural green light that had cast its eerie glow over Haven for what felt like an eternity, was no more. Relief swept through him like a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, but it wasn’t complete. Not yet.
Not until he saw her.
Time dragged cruelly, each passing second tightening the knot in his chest. He had never felt so powerless, forced to stand on the sidelines while she faced the impossible. He clenched his hands into fists, the leather of his gloves creaking under the strain. The thought of losing her—after finally getting her back after all these years—was unbearable. He had promised himself once, long ago, that Ariana would be his wife, that their lives would intertwine. He hadn’t given up on that dream. He wouldn’t.
At last, movement on the path caught his eye. A group was descending from the ruins: mages, templars, soldiers. And then, at the center of it all—Ariana.
His breath left him in a rush, his shoulders sagging slightly as the tension drained from his body. She moved with purpose, though her steps were slower than usual. Her armor bore new scratches, and a faint red mark marred her temple where debris must have struck her. But she was upright. She was alive.
Cullen let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, relief washing over him like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. She had kept her promise.
Her gaze found his even from a distance, and he saw the faint curve of her lips—a tired, triumphant smile. She had done it. Of course she had. She always did.
Before he knew it, his legs were carrying him toward her, his strides quick and determined. The closer he came, the more he could see the weariness etched into her features, the subtle tremor in her movements. But she was here. She was whole.
When they finally stood face-to-face, he reached for her hands without hesitation, his fingers curling around hers as though he needed to feel her warmth to believe she was real.
“You’re alright,” he said softly, his voice carrying a mix of relief and something deeper—something he couldn’t quite put into words.
Ariana tilted her head, her smile growing faintly mischievous despite her weariness. “Of course I am. I had orders to follow, didn’t I?”
Cullen let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “So that’s what it takes to get you to listen—formal orders?”
“Apparently,” she replied, her tone light but her eyes betraying the weight of what she’d just endured. “You might want to savor the moment. I’m not known for making a habit of it.”
“I’ll take what I can get,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. His hands tightened slightly around hers as he added, more seriously, “You did it. Ariana, you…” His words faltered, emotion tightening his throat.
Ariana squeezed his hands gently, her gaze steady. “We did it,” she corrected, her voice soft but resolute. “I couldn’t have done this alone.”
Cullen nodded, though his expression betrayed the depth of his feelings. He couldn’t fully agree. To him, the Breach might have been sealed with the strength of many, but the weight of it had rested squarely on her shoulders.
“Come on,” Ariana said after a moment, her tone shifting to something lighter. “Let’s get back to Haven. I could use a hot meal. Or a nap. Maybe both.”
“Both sounds reasonable,” Cullen replied, stepping beside her as they began walking down the path together.
The noise of the camp grew louder as they approached, but for a while, they walked in companionable silence. Cullen’s hand remained entwined with hers, the contact grounding them both.
His mind drifted back to the promises he had made to himself—back in Kirkwall, back during the Blight, and all the days in between. He had vowed to stand by her, to fight for her, to give her the life she deserved. He had never stopped believing in that dream, even when the world had done its best to tear them apart.
As they neared the gates of Haven, Ariana glanced at him, her expression softer now. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
“For what?” Cullen asked, his brow furrowing slightly.
“For making me promise,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “For reminding me to survive.”
Cullen didn’t respond immediately, but the look he gave her said more than words could. Finally, he squeezed her hand again and murmured, “Always.”
They crossed the gates together, the weight of the day lingering like a shadow, but for now, the promise of tomorrow felt a little less daunting with their hands clasped firmly between them.
~~~
The festive air in Haven was intoxicating. Laughter and music spilled from the tavern, bonfires crackled warmly, and the scent of roasted meats mingled with the crisp mountain breeze. People danced and sang, sharing exaggerated tales of heroism and daring feats. For the first time in months, the shadow of despair no longer loomed over the camp.
Ariana stood near the Chantry courtyard, her arms crossed as she leaned on a stack of crates. The faint glow of lanterns lit the faces of those gathered below, their smiles radiant in the soft light. She allowed herself a rare moment to simply watch, her lips curving into a small smile.
This is what hope feels like, she thought. This is what we’re fighting for.
The Breach was gone, sealed by her own hand with the strength of the mages behind her. For the first time since the Conclave, the sky above Haven was still. It felt like breathing fresh air after being submerged for far too long. They were one step closer to preventing the dark future she had seen, and the weight of that knowledge made the celebration feel even more meaningful.
But even as she tried to let the joy of the moment settle over her, a quiet tension lingered in the back of her mind. She knew this wasn’t the end—far from it. The Elder One was still out there, his plans still in motion. They had won the battle, but the war had only just begun.
The sound of boots crunching on the gravel path drew her attention, and she turned to see Cassandra approaching. The Seeker’s expression was calm, but there was a softness in her gaze that betrayed her own sense of relief.
“Solas confirms the heavens are scarred but calm,” Cassandra said as she came to stand beside her. “The Breach is sealed. We’ve received reports of lingering rifts, and there are still questions to be answered, but… this was a victory. Word of your heroism has spread.”
Ariana chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Don’t they know I fell into this? Almost literally.”
Cassandra’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Perhaps you’re too close to judge. We needed you. We still do. We have yet to discover how the Breach came to be, and that is only the most conspicuous of our troubles.” She paused, her tone turning more somber. “Strange days, and more to come.”
Ariana nodded, her gaze drifting back to the celebration. “For now, though… let them have this. We’ve all earned it.”
The moment seemed to linger, a fleeting reprieve in the chaos that had defined their lives. But then, the sound of alarm bells shattered the calm, sharp and jarring against the cheerful din. The music and laughter died instantly, replaced by confusion and fear as people turned toward the source of the noise. Soldiers scrambled, the festive air dissolving into a frantic storm of activity.
Ariana’s heart clenched, the shift in atmosphere like a blow. Before she could process the sound fully, Cullen’s voice rang out, steady and commanding: “Forces approaching! To arms!”
Her hand flew to the daggers at her hips as she straightened, the instincts of battle taking over. She exchanged a glance with Cassandra, and in that shared look, no words were needed. They broke into a sprint toward the gates, the light and warmth of Haven fading behind them as chaos surged ahead.
The clang of armor, the shouted orders, the flicker of torches—it all blurred together as they reached the walls. Soldiers were already forming ranks, their movements quick and practiced, though the tension in the air was thick enough to taste. The faint sound of distant war horns carried through the night, chilling Ariana more than the mountain air ever could.
And there he was. Cullen stood at the forefront, his presence a steadying anchor amidst the rising storm. The torchlight cast sharp lines across his face, his expression focused and unyielding. His voice cut through the noise with sharp precision, barking orders to the soldiers around him. He had always been this way in battle: calm, collected, decisive. Watching him now, she couldn’t help but marvel at the strength he radiated, the way he commanded not just with authority but with purpose.
He was made for this, she thought, her heart tightening with something that was equal parts admiration and pride. Cullen had always been a soldier, a leader, but in moments like these, she saw more than that. She saw the man Thedas needed—the man she needed.
He had carried so much on his shoulders, more than anyone should, and still, he stood. Still, he fought. Ariana rarely allowed herself to admit just how much she believed in him, how much she drew strength from his unwavering focus. But she felt it now, steadying her, grounding her as the chaos swirled around them.
She had promised herself to him once, long ago. And despite everything, she had never stopped believing in that promise—or in him.
Ariana forced herself to move, her steps deliberate as she approached him. His voice rang out again, directing soldiers to reinforce the gates, to hold the line. Even as she drew closer, he didn’t falter, didn’t glance away from the soldiers he was rallying.
“Cullen,” she called, her voice steady despite the unease twisting in her gut.
His gaze snapped to hers, and for a moment, the tension in his features softened, just barely.
But before she could say another word, the horns sounded again—closer now. The darkness beyond the gates seemed to pulse, the faint flicker of distant firelight illuminating something… moving.
Ariana froze, her breath catching as unease coiled tighter in her chest. Whatever was coming, it wasn’t ordinary. It wasn’t human.
The noise around them grew louder—shouts, orders, the clatter of weapons being drawn. The celebratory glow of Haven had been snuffed out entirely, replaced by the cold, sharp edge of looming danger.
Cullen stepped forward, his expression hardening once more. “Positions!” he called, his voice carrying over the din.
Ariana’s hand tightened on the hilt of her dagger as she moved to his side, her heart pounding in her chest. The flicker of torches, the distant horns, the shifting shadows—they all seemed to blur together as the unknown bore down on them.
Whatever was coming, it was here.