23 – 24 Bloomingtide 9:41
The weight of the moment pressed down on Ariana as Cullen stepped forward, taking command with his usual precision. Yet, she didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers flexed briefly against the hilt of his sword before settling into their usual unyielding grip. It wasn’t just battle readiness—it was concern.
For her.
“What’s happening?” Cassandra demanded, her tone clipped but steady as she approached.
“One watchguard reporting,” Cullen replied, his gaze locked on the darkened path ahead. “It’s a massive force, the bulk of it moving over the mountain.”
“Under what banner?” Josephine’s voice rang out as she joined them, breathless from her sprint.
“None,” Cullen answered curtly, his focus unbroken.
“None?” Josephine repeated, faltering.
Riley arrived next, her presence a burst of energy as she clasped Ariana’s shoulder. “Wolf! Reports are strange. We’ve lost contact with some scouts, but they—”
“They what, Riley?” Ariana pressed, her tone sharper than she intended.
“They’re saying what’s coming doesn’t look… human,” Riley finished, her words hanging heavy in the air as those around her exchanged uneasy glances.
Before anyone could respond, a loud pounding echoed from the gates. A young, trembling voice called out from the other side, “I can’t come in unless you open!”
Ariana stepped forward immediately, her voice cutting through the hesitation of the nearest soldier. “Open them!”
The gates creaked open, revealing a wiry boy in an oversized hat, his pale face stark against the shadows.
Before Ariana could speak, a creature lunged from the darkness. The boy moved with inhuman speed, dispatching it effortlessly. The beast collapsed at his feet before anyone had even processed the attack.
“I’m Cole,” the boy said quietly, his voice both eerie and sincere. “I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know.”
The group stared at him, stunned, as his unsettling presence seemed to warp the air around him.
“The Elder One is very angry,” Cole continued, his pale eyes locking onto Ariana. “You took his mages. The red templars went to him. And he knows you.”
Ariana’s stomach turned. The Elder One. He knows me.
Her gaze darted to Cullen, seeking his steadying presence. “Cullen!” she called, her voice sharper than she intended. “Give me a plan! Anything!”
Cullen’s response was immediate, though the tension in his frame betrayed the pressure he felt. “Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle.”
His words carried weight, grounding the chaos around them. “Get out there and hit that force. Use everything you can!”
Ariana blinked at him, her mind racing as she processed his words. “Are you sure you’re not getting too comfortable sending me into mortal danger?” she quipped, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.
Cullen’s jaw tightened, his frustration evident. “Ariana, this is not the time—”
Riley cut in, smirking despite the tension. “Oh, Commander, you’d better get used to that. She thrives on it.”
“I am well aware,” Cullen said sharply, his tone clipped as he turned his full focus back to Ariana. “Just—be careful.”
Her smirk softened, something more genuine flickering in her expression. “I will. I promise.”
Turning back to the Rangers, Ariana barked orders with practiced efficiency. “Riley, get all warriors and rogues inside Haven to defend in case we fail. Mages and rangers will stand with the Inquisition mages. Shoot everything you can from a distance. And you…” she paused, locking eyes with Riley. “I need you with me.”
Riley grinned, her sword already drawn. “By your order, Wolf.”
Valentina and Linnea moved to carry out her commands, leaving Ariana and Riley standing side by side.
“I’m with you,” Riley said, her grin sharp. “Let’s show these bastards what happens when they come for the White Wolf, shall we?”
Ariana’s faint smirk returned. “Let’s do it.”
She turned toward Cullen one last time, catching the tension in his posture, the quiet fear he carried just under the surface. “I’ll survive this,” she said, her voice low, more to herself than anyone else. “I have to.”
Cullen’s gaze held hers for a moment longer before he nodded. “See that you do.”
With that, Ariana stepped into the fray, the air around her charged with the anticipation of battle. The celebration was forgotten, the festive glow extinguished by the chaos ahead.
For Haven. For the Inquisition. For Cullen.
And for a tomorrow I’m not ready to give up on.
~~~
The battle was chaos. Fire and smoke filled the air, and Haven’s outskirts had become a war zone. Ariana led groups of soldiers through the shattered village, rallying them with sharp orders while following Cullen’s plans. Two massive trebuchets stood as their last hope to trigger an avalanche and cut off the advancing enemy forces.
The first trebuchet launched, its heavy payload crashing into the mountainside. A thunderous rumble followed as rocks tumbled down, burying part of the enemy force. When the second trebuchet fired, the avalanche roared again, burying even more. For a fleeting moment, cheers echoed across Haven.
But the victory was short-lived. A deafening roar ripped through the air as fire rained down from above, obliterating the second trebuchet. Ariana’s stomach twisted as the silhouette of a massive dragon soared overhead, its fiery breath lighting the mountainside ablaze.
“Retreat! Everyone, to the Chantry! Go!” Cullen’s voice cut through the chaos.
As soldiers and villagers scrambled toward safety, Ariana’s heart sank at the sight of those left behind. Smoke, debris, and shadows obscured the edges of Haven. “Riley!” Ariana shouted, spotting her lieutenant nearby.
Riley jogged over, her sword already drawn. “Wolf! What’s the plan?”
“Split up,” Ariana ordered, her voice steady despite the chaos. “Find anyone left on this side of the village. Make sure no one’s left behind.”
“You got it.” Riley clasped her shoulder firmly. “Watch yourself.”
Ariana nodded, her expression hardening as Riley moved off with a group of Rangers. She took a breath, her knuckles whitening around the hilts of her daggers. Let’s move.
Near the tavern, Ariana spotted Flissa pinned under a pile of debris as flames licked dangerously close. “Hold on, Flissa!” she yelled, rushing over.
With the help of a soldier, she heaved the debris aside, her muscles straining. They pulled Flissa free just as the flames consumed the spot where she had been trapped.
Flissa coughed violently, her face streaked with soot. “Thank you,” she managed hoarsely.
“Get to the Chantry. Go now!” Ariana urged.
Further down, the air was thick with smoke, and the clash of steel rang out like thunder. Near Adan’s workshop, Ariana spotted the alchemist and Minaeve, cornered by three templars. They fought desperately with whatever they could grab—Adan brandished a broken staff, and Minaeve clutched a jagged piece of metal—but it was clear they were outmatched.
Ariana sprinted toward them, her daggers already drawn. Focus, the voice echoed in her mind, sharp and unyielding. You don’t fight to survive. You fight to win.
Her boots pounded against the snow as she closed the distance, and the templars turned, their attention snapping to her. Ariana didn’t hesitate. Her blades became extensions of her will, each strike a calculated motion. She darted between them, her body moving like water.
What’s the point of speed if you can’t predict your enemy’s next move?
One templar swung wildly, and Ariana sidestepped with precision, her dagger plunging into the gap between his breastplate and helmet. As he fell, she pivoted, parrying another’s overhead strike with her second blade. She ducked low, slicing through his leg and dropping him to his knees. Her dagger flashed again, this time slitting his throat before he could cry out.
The final templar hesitated, his weapon raised. Her lip curled as she saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes. Hesitation is death. The voice in her mind was cold and cutting, the specter of Krieger’s lessons driving her every move.
She rushed him before he could recover, feinting left before her dagger struck home. The templar crumpled, blood seeping into the snow, and Ariana didn’t spare him a second glance.
Adan and Minaeve stared at her, their faces pale but alive. Ariana knelt beside them, her breathing heavy. “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice steady despite the adrenaline roaring in her veins.
Adan grimaced, clutching his arm. “Bruised, not broken,” he grunted.
Minaeve winced as she shifted, her leg bloodied. “We’ll make it,” she said, though her voice wavered.
Ariana’s gaze darted to their injuries, her mind calculating. “Not without help,” she said firmly. She waved over a nearby soldier, her tone sharp and commanding. “Help them to the Chantry. Now.”
As the soldier moved to assist, Ariana scanned the area for more threats. Her muscles ached, her body battered, but she couldn’t afford to stop. The fight isn’t over until you make it so. The voice lingered, a cruel echo of her past.
She clenched her fists around her daggers, the worn hilts grounding her. You fight to win. Always.
As she pressed further, Ariana’s focus sharpened. Her blades cut down another templar as they reached the main path leading to the Chantry. The dragon roared again overhead, its wings stirring the air and spreading ash like snow. Ariana gritted her teeth, pushing herself forward.
When Ariana finally reached the Chantry, the heavy doors were already closing, the soldiers shouting for reinforcements to hold the barricades. She slipped inside, guiding Minaeve and Adan to safety. Villagers huddled in groups, their faces pale and wide-eyed.
The tremors from the dragon’s passes shook the ground beneath her feet, but Ariana forced herself to stand steady. She scanned the crowd and exhaled in relief when she spotted Riley guiding another group inside. For now, they had done all they could.
Ariana leaned heavily against the wall, wiping soot and blood from her face. The dragon’s roar echoed through the mountains, and the sound of the barricades groaning under pressure was a harsh reminder: Haven wasn’t safe.
Not yet.
~~~
Inside the Chantry, Chancellor Roderick stood at the center of the chaos, directing villagers to safety. His movements were labored, his face pale with pain. He suddenly staggered, and Cole was there in an instant, steadying him.
“He’s hurt,” Cole said, his tone quiet but certain. “He held off a templar to save some villagers. He’s dying.”
Before Ariana could process Cole’s words, she heard hurried footsteps. Riley and Cullen approached, their expressions urgent. Cullen reached her first, grabbing her arm and turning her toward him.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his eyes scanning her for injuries.
“I’m fine,” she replied quickly.
“Are you sure?” His voice softened, but his gaze was intense. “When I got here and you weren’t—”
“I’m fine,” she repeated firmly, though her expression betrayed a flicker of something unspoken. “What’s happening?”
Cullen took a steadying breath and recomposed himself. “Ariana, our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”
Cole, still at Roderick’s side, interjected, “I’ve seen an Archdemon. I was in the Fade, but it looked like that.”
“I don’t care what it looks like,” Cullen snapped, his tone hard. “It has cut a path for that army. They’ll kill everyone in Haven!”
“The Elder One doesn’t care about the village,” Cole added, his voice distant, strange. “He only wants the Herald.”
Ariana’s breath caught for a moment, but her voice remained steady. “If it will save these people, he can have me.”
“No!” Riley’s voice cut through the air, sharp and immediate. “Are you out of your damned mind, Wolf? That is not an option.”
Cole shook his head, his otherworldly calm unshaken. “It won’t. He wants to kill you. No one else matters, but he’ll crush them, kill them anyway. I don’t like him.”
Riley threw up her hands, exasperation clear. “You don’t like…? What does that even—”
Cullen cut her off, his tone grim. “There are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide.”
Ariana’s brow furrowed in disbelief. “You mean to bury Haven?”
“We’re dying, but we can decide how. Many don’t get that choice,” Cullen said, his voice tight with resolve.
Riley rounded on him. “This is madness! ‘Fight to the death’ is not a plan! Wolf, tell me you’re not considering this.”
Before Ariana could respond, Cole glanced at Roderick. “He can help.”
Roderick struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on Cole for support. “There is a path,” he began, his voice faint. “You wouldn’t know it unless you’d made the summer pilgrimage. As I have.”
“What are you talking about, Roderick?” Ariana asked, stepping closer, her tone insistent.
“It was whim that I walked the path,” he said, his voice growing steadier. “I did not mean to start—it was overgrown. But now, with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers. If this memory can save us…” He paused, meeting her gaze. “You could be more. The Inquisition could be more.”
Ariana’s thoughts raced. She forced herself to breathe, to think. Finally, she nodded, her voice steady. “Riley, Cullen—get the people out. Follow Chancellor Roderick and get everyone to safety.”
“And when the mountain falls? What about you?” Cullen’s voice sharpened, his concern unmistakable.
Ariana cast her gaze downward briefly, her voice steady but firm. “Don’t have time to think about that now. Go!”
“No, Wolf,” Riley said angrily, stepping closer and grabbing Ariana’s arm. “I won’t allow it. You go.”
“Riley, that won’t work,” Ariana insisted, her voice rising with urgency. “He’s here for me. I need to keep him focused on me while you all get to safety. Now go—that’s an order.”
Riley’s jaw tightened, her reluctance clear in every line of her face. She searched Ariana’s gaze, looking for a way to argue. Finally, she straightened, her voice strained. “By your order, Wolf,” she said reluctantly, saluting.
“Inquisition!” Cullen called. “Follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry! Move!”
Cole helped Roderick toward the passage, but the Chancellor paused before leaving. “Herald… if you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you.”
“Ready to do this, pup?” Varric asked, stepping next to her with Bianca in hand.
“No, Varric. Go. Get these people to safety,” Ariana pleaded, her voice betraying some of her fear.
Varric shifted his weight and adopted his usual confident stance. “I’m staying, Pup. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“Absolutely not. Hawke would kill me if I let you die here,” Ariana replied, somewhat teasingly yet afraid.
“And Hawke would kill me if I let you go alone, so…” Varric quipped, shrugging his shoulder to imply she had no choice.
Ariana smiled and shook her head, knowing she would never convince Varric to leave her. For that, she was more grateful than she could ever say.
Cullen stepped forward, his voice commanding as he pointed toward a group of soldiers. “They’ll load the trebuchets. We need to keep the Elder One’s attention until the Inquisition is above the tree line. If they are to have a chance—if you we are to have a chance—let that thing hear you.”
“We? Cullen, you need to go with them. You need to survive this.” she said, stepping closer. “The Inquisition needs you. Thedas needs you.”
“No,” he said firmly. “The Inquisition needs you.”
She shook her head, her voice soft but resolute. “You’re wrong. It’s you, Cullen. You’re the one they’ll follow. You’re the leader Thedas needs right now. And when I think about everything I’ve fought for… everything I’ve survived, it’s you. You inspire me, Cullen. Now you have to do the same for them.”
Ariana’s hand trembled slightly as she reached for her ring. Her fingers brushed against the cool metal, and for a moment, she hesitated. The weight of it was far greater than its size—a symbol of promises made, of dreams whispered in moments stolen between battles and chaos.
This isn’t giving up, she told herself, her throat tightening as she slid the ring from her finger. This is ensuring it survives, that it means something beyond today.
The metal caught the faint light of the Chantry’s flickering torches, a glint of silver against the dark storm of thoughts in her mind. It wasn’t just a ring; it was the life they had planned together, the hope she’d clung to through all the uncertainty. Giving it up felt like severing a lifeline, like leaving behind a piece of herself.
But she couldn’t falter. Not now.
She turned to Cullen, holding the ring out to him, her voice soft but steady. “Take this,” she whispered. “Keep it safe. Keep us safe.”
“I can’t,” he said hoarsely, his voice breaking. “Ariana, I can’t lose you.”
She smiled faintly, though tears shimmered in her eyes. “You won’t. I’ll always be with you. And you’ll win this fight. You’re the best of us.”
His hand hovered over hers for a moment before he reluctantly closed his fingers around the ring. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything—his throat was too tight—but the anguish in his eyes spoke volumes.
She offered a faint, reassuring smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Goodbye, Cullen.”
She turned to leave, but his hand caught her wrist. Before she could react, he pulled her back toward him, one arm wrapping around her waist, the other cradling the side of her neck. He kissed her, desperate and fierce, as if trying to convey everything he feared might be left unsaid.
Ariana threw her arms around him as she kissed him back, equally resolute. When they finally pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his, her voice barely above a whisper. “I love you. I have always loved you. I always will.”
Cullen pulled her close, his voice trembling as he tried to summon the strength he needed. “Survive this,” he said, his tone softening just enough to mirror their shared moment from before. “That’s an order.”
Her lips curved faintly at the echo of his earlier words, a fleeting moment of solace in the storm raging around them. Though her tears threatened to betray her, her voice remained steady. “By your order, Commander.”
The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken fears and unyielding hope. Cullen’s fingers lingered on hers for a moment longer before she stepped back, unsheathing her daggers. She turned and ran from the Chantry, the heavy doors closing behind her with a resounding finality that felt like the last beat of her heart.
~~~
As she exited the Chantry, Ariana and Varric were immediately greeted by a group of red templars. “Come and get me then! I’m here!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. Anger fueled her, but beneath it, there was a strange sense of lightness—a clarity. If this is the end, at least Cullen knows the truth.
“You’re yelling at templars now?” Varric called out, cocking Bianca. “Next, you’ll be inviting them to tea.”
“Maybe that would distract them,” Ariana shot back, her daggers flashing as she darted into the fray.
Her body moved instinctively, every strike precise, every dodge calculated.
Don’t think, Ariana. Act.
The thought came unbidden, almost natural. She sidestepped a templar’s overhead swing, her dagger plunging into his side. A second templar lunged, and she twisted, her blade catching him under the chin.
“Remind me to stay on your good side,” Varric quipped, taking a shot that brought another templar to his knees.
“Don’t you always,” Ariana replied, her voice tight but with a hint of a smile. Cullen would roll his eyes if he heard us. Maker, I hope he gets the chance.
They pressed forward, the chaos of the battle surrounding them. Haven’s supply caches proved invaluable, allowing Ariana to quickly mix grenades and gather potions as they moved through the burning village.
“I’ve seen better celebrations,” Varric said as they ducked behind cover to catch their breath. “This one’s a little heavy on the fire and death.”
“I’ll make sure the next one has more cake and wine,” Ariana replied dryly, tossing a grenade into an approaching group of templars. The explosion lit up the area, sending fragments of red lyrium scattering.
“You’re spoiling me now,” Varric said with a grin.
The banter lightened the weight of the moment, but as they moved closer to the trebuchet, the air grew heavier with smoke, ash, and heat. Ariana’s breaths came faster, though her resolve never wavered. Every step felt heavier than the last, as if each one took her further from everything she fought to protect. But what else could she do? The only way to save Haven was to gamble everything.
The final trebuchet loomed ahead, already loaded but needing to be turned to face the mountain. Ariana’s hands worked quickly, her fingers deftly adjusting the massive structure, all the while glancing over her shoulder for any sign of approaching enemies.
“You’ve got this, right?” Varric asked, his tone only half-joking as he looked at the glowing Breach in the distance.
“Go back to the Chantry,” Ariana said firmly. “Now.”
Varric hesitated, his gaze flicking between her and the trebuchet. “Not exactly a fan of leaving you here alone, kid.”
“I’ll be fine,” she insisted, her voice steady. “They need you back there more than I do. Go.”
Varric gave her one last look before nodding. “Fine. Just don’t do anything stupid.”
“Like triggering an avalanche, you mean? Never,” she said with a faint smile, already turning her focus back to the trebuchet.
As Varric disappeared into the smoke, Ariana’s world narrowed to the task at hand. Her movements were quick, precise, each adjustment bringing the trebuchet closer to firing position. She barely registered the roar of the dragon overhead until it was nearly upon her.
The air exploded with heat and fire as the dragon’s breath engulfed the area, scorching everything around her. The shockwave from the blast sent her sprawling to the ground. As she struggled to her feet, flames crackled around her, and through the heat and smoke, a figure emerged.
“Enough!” the figure bellowed, its voice resonating with unnatural power. With a flick of his hand, a blast of energy struck her, forcing her back. “Pretender. You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more.”
This is it, she thought, her breath hitching as the figure approached. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to run, to fight, but something about him felt insurmountable. What is he?
“What are you? Why are you doing this? What do you want?” she demanded, forcing her voice to steady.
“Mortals beg for truth they cannot have. It is beyond what you are, what I was. Know me. Know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One! The will that is Corypheus! You will kneel.”
The words hit her harder than any physical blow. This is the one who has been hunting me. The one who has taken everything from us. Her hand clenched around the hilt of her dagger. “I will never yield to you. I will never kneel,” she shot back, her voice filled with defiance.
“You will resist,” Corypheus said, his tone almost amused. “You will always resist. It matters not.”
He raised a strange orb, its surface pulsing with a sickly red glow. The mark on Ariana’s hand flared in response, sending waves of searing pain through her arm. She clutched it, barely managing to stay upright.
“It is your fault, ‘Herald,’” Corypheus sneered. “You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose. I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as ‘touched,’ what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens.”
The pain drove Ariana to her knees, her breath ragged as she fought to maintain control. The world around her blurred, her vision narrowing to the orb and the mark that now pulsed in unison.
“And you used the Anchor to undo my work! The gall!” Corypheus continued, his voice filled with fury.
He strode toward her, gripping her left arm and lifting her as though she weighed nothing. His grip was like iron, and his words dripped with malice.
“I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the empire in person,” he said, his tone almost contemplative. “I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty.”
With a snarl, he hurled her against the trebuchet. Ariana’s body slammed into the wooden structure, the impact rattling her bones. Gritting her teeth, she scrambled to her feet, her hand brushing against a discarded sword. She picked it up, readying herself.
Cullen believes in me. The Rangers believe in me. And I have to believe in myself.
Corypheus sighed, his tone bored. “The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling. So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation—and god—it requires.”
From the corner of her eye, Ariana caught sight of a flare in the distance. The signal. The villagers were above the treeline. Relief surged through her when she spotted the signal flare in the distance. They’re safe. They made it.
“And you,” he spat, raising a hand to signal his dragon, “I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die.”
As Corypheus’s tirade continued, Ariana’s focus sharpened. She dropped the sword she had picked up, stepping back toward the trebuchet lever. Her voice cut through his rant, calm and defiant. “Your arrogance blinds you. Good to know. If I’m dying… it’s not today!”
With a swift motion, she kicked the lever. The trebuchet fired, its massive boulder slamming into the mountainside and triggering a massive avalanche. Snow and rock thundered down, engulfing the battlefield. Corypheus’s dragon wrapped its wings around him, carrying him away as the world collapsed around them.
Ariana turned, spotting a gap in the ground—a hidden structure partially buried in the snow. Without hesitation, she leaped toward it, crashing through a wooden cover just as the avalanche consumed everything above. Darkness swallowed her as she fell.
~~~
The chill of the ice beneath her armor was what finally roused Ariana. She opened her eyes slowly, her vision swimming as the world around her came into focus. Above her, the ceiling of a natural cavern loomed, the jagged edges of rock glistening faintly in the dim light emanating from her mark.
The pain hit all at once when she tried to move—a sharp, unrelenting ache in her side that made her gasp. Broken ribs. Probably more than one. She gritted her teeth, pressing a hand to her side as she pushed herself up to sit. Every breath was shallow, the pain clawing at her chest.
Her mark pulsed brighter than usual, the green glow casting eerie shadows on the cavern walls. She stared at it, frowning. Well, at least I’m not completely in the dark. Convenient, she thought bitterly, letting out a soft, wry chuckle that immediately made her ribs protest. The sound surprised her, almost absurd in the eerie stillness. Only I would laugh at a time like this. Cullen would be so mad at me right now.
“This wasn’t one of my better ideas,” she muttered under her breath, her voice echoing faintly in the cavern. “But at least I’m alive… so far.”
Her legs were stiff, her body bruised from the fall, but Ariana managed to stand. The movement sent another wave of sharp pain through her side, nearly knocking her back down. She leaned against the icy wall for support, biting back a curse.
How long have I been here? she wondered, her thoughts hazy. Minutes? Hours? Days? The thought of everyone assuming she was dead sent a sharp pang through her chest—not from fear, but frustration. If they thought she was gone, would they give up on the fight? Would Cullen…?
Her jaw tightened. No. He wouldn’t. He’ll rally them. He’ll survive. He has to.
Straightening as best she could, Ariana limped forward into the tunnel, the green glow of her mark lighting her way. Each step sent shocks of pain through her body, but she pressed on, her determination outweighing the agony. One step at a time, she told herself. Just keep moving.
The cavern seemed endless, the cold biting at her skin and seeping into her bones. Every shadow seemed to shift, every sound echoed unnervingly. Yet she kept going, her focus narrowing to the rhythm of her steps and the flickering light of her mark.
She was so focused on moving forward that the attack took her by surprise. A demon lunged from the shadows, its form twisting unnaturally as it snarled. Ariana reached for her daggers but grasped at empty space. The realization hit her like a blow. I lost them. In Haven.
Don’t think, Ariana. Act.
The voice in her mind was clear, commanding, instinctive. She threw herself to the side, narrowly avoiding the demon’s strike. Her body twisted, her movements sharper, faster than they should have been given her injuries. Her instincts took over, guided by years of training—and by his voice.
What’s the point of speed if you can’t predict your enemy’s next move?
The demon lunged again, and her mark flared. A wave of energy exploded outward, forcing the creature back. Ariana staggered, her arm burning as the mark glowed brighter. Her vision swam, but she raised her hand, instincts screaming for control.
The air crackled and shifted. A rift tore open before her, its sickly green light illuminating the cavern. The demon shrieked, its form twisting as it was pulled into the void. The rift sealed itself with a final burst of light, leaving Ariana alone in the sudden stillness.
Her breath came in ragged gasps as she lowered her hand, staring at the now-empty space where the rift had been. Her mark throbbed painfully, the glow dimming slightly. “What the hell was that?” she murmured, her voice shaky. “Well, at least it worked.”
And I’m still alive. That’s what matters.
The light of her mark illuminated a narrow passage ahead, and she followed it, her steps slower but no less determined. The pain in her body was a constant companion, but she pushed it aside. *Focus. One step closer to Cullen. *
Eventually, she saw it: a faint glimmer of light in the distance. Her heart leapt at the sight, hope surging through her battered frame. She quickened her pace, ignoring the sharp protests from her ribs and leg.
The light grew brighter as she approached, and finally, she stepped out into the open. The cold hit her like a wall, the howling wind tearing at her coat and stinging her skin. Snow swirled around her, obscuring her vision, but she was outside. She was free.
Her relief was short-lived. The blizzard raged around her, the landscape a blur of white and gray. The cold seeped through her armor, biting into her flesh and making her shiver uncontrollably.
“Oh… a blizzard. Of course. Why not?” she muttered, her voice barely audible over the wind.
She scanned her surroundings, searching for any sign of the Inquisition. The snow was deep, the trail she’d followed barely visible. But there were signs—trampled snow, broken branches. They had come this way. She just had to follow.
Her thoughts drifted to Cullen, the memory of his voice a tether. She pictured his face, his warmth, the way his eyes softened when they met hers. He’s waiting for me. He has my ring. I’ll follow that star one more time.
The thought gave her strength, her resolve hardening. She wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet. Not when there was still so much to fight for.
She stumbled, her leg giving out beneath her. The snow cushioned her fall, but the cold seeped into her bones, making her limbs feel heavy and unresponsive. She forced herself up, her body trembling from the effort.
“Come on,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “Just a little further.”
Her vision blurred, her thoughts growing hazy, but she kept moving. One step at a time, one breath at a time. She wasn’t going to stop. She wasn’t going to die here.
By your order, Commander.
~~~
Riley stood amidst a cluster of Rangers, her sharp eyes scanning the icy expanse beyond their makeshift camp. The air was biting, her breath visible in the frigid morning as she addressed her team with urgency. The sharp wind cut through even the thickest cloaks, but Riley barely noticed. Her focus was fixed on the search.
“Valentina, Linnea, Lamberto,” she began, her voice firm and steady despite the turmoil in her chest. “We’re splitting into scouting parties. I want every path that could lead back to Haven mapped and searched. We’re looking for survivors, supplies, and any sign of Wolf.”
Valentina, her brown hair dusted with frost, nodded with conviction. “We’ll take the southern ridge. It’s narrow, but if anyone managed to escape, they might have taken that route.”
Linnea adjusted her heavy cloak, her expression thoughtful. “I’ll take my team northward. There’s an old hunting trail up there. If she’s alive, she might have tried to get higher ground.”
Lamberto, the oldest of the group, crossed his arms and spoke gruffly. “I’ll circle back toward the lower paths. If there are any stragglers or wounded, that’s where they’ll be.”
Riley nodded, her expression set. “Good. Make sure every team is prepared for the cold and carry flares. If you find anything—anything at all—you signal immediately. And mark hazards. We can’t afford to lose anyone else.”
Valentina hesitated, her green eyes meeting Riley’s. “And what about you? Where will you be?”
Riley’s gaze hardened, though her voice was calm. “I’ll be coordinating from here and joining any search party that finds a lead. Wolf’s out there, and we’re going to bring her back.”
The Rangers dispersed swiftly, their movements practiced and efficient. Riley remained, her thoughts racing as she considered their options. Haven had been a massacre, but she refused to believe Ariana was gone. She survived the Blight. She survived Krieger. She survived Kirkwall. She’s alive. Riley clung to that certainty like a lifeline, her faith in Ariana’s resilience unshakable.
The sound of boots crunching in the snow drew her attention. Cullen approached, his expression a mix of weariness and determination. The snow clung to his shoulders, and the shadows under his eyes spoke of his despair. Despite her own exhaustion, Riley straightened her posture, her voice steady as she greeted him.
“Organizing the search,” she said simply, anticipating his question. “We need to find her.”
Cullen’s brow furrowed, his concern evident. “The chances…” He trailed off, his golden eyes scanning the distant peaks. “Riley, we barely got out ourselves. Haven is…” He hesitated, as though saying the words would make them more real.
Riley’s expression didn’t waver. “She’s alive,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through the chill. “I refuse to believe otherwise. Wolf doesn’t go down without a fight.”
Cullen’s lips pressed into a thin line, his shoulders tensing. “And if she isn’t?” he asked quietly, the words heavy with guilt.
“I know it,” Riley replied, her tone unwavering. “But I also know she’s injured, freezing, and likely pushing herself harder than she should. She needs us. She needs me. And I’ll be damned if I let her down.”
She hesitated for a moment, her voice dropping slightly. “You weren’t there during the Blight, Commander. I watched her stand against a horde of darkspawn the day we saved her. I saw her pull people from the ruins of villages, clear battlefields, survive—” Riley stopped short, her lips pressing into a thin line, the unspoken word lingering between them.
Cullen’s brows furrowed at the sudden pause, but he didn’t press her. Whatever she had almost said hung in the air like a shadow, and he could feel the weight of it in her tone. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—an emotion that Riley couldn’t quite place. Vulnerability? Determination? It was gone as quickly as it appeared.
“You truly believe she can survive this?” he asked, his voice quieter.
“I know it,” Riley replied, her tone unwavering. “But I also know she’s injured, freezing, and probably pushing herself harder than she should. She needs us. She needs me. And I’ll be damned if I let her down.”
Cullen exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting to the snow-covered expanse beyond the camp. The distant peaks were shrouded in mist, their paths treacherous and unforgiving. Finally, he nodded, his voice low but resolute. “Then go. Find her.”
Riley inclined her head, her resolve solidifying. “Thank you, Commander. But don’t lose yourself in this,” she added, her tone softening. “We need you here. Keep the camp together.”
For a moment, Cullen’s expression softened, his eyes meeting hers with a flicker of trust. “If anyone can find her, it’s you,” he said, his voice steady but laced with emotion.
Riley turned back to the Rangers, her steps purposeful as she prepared to join the search herself. Behind her, Cullen lingered at the edge of the clearing, his breath visible in the frigid air. His gaze remained fixed on the mountains, his thoughts unreadable.
Don’t get dead, Wolf. Riley’s silent prayer echoed in her mind as she stepped into the cold, the weight of her determination a shield against the unforgiving snow.
~~~
Ariana stumbled upon the remnants of a campfire, her heart giving a faint flutter of hope before reality set in. The ashes were blackened, cold, and dusted with snow. Kneeling beside the debris, her trembling fingers sifted through it, the frigid air numbing her movements. Nothing. The faint spark of possibility was extinguished as quickly as it came.
“It’s cold… nothing,” she murmured, her voice thin against the roar of the wind. She exhaled sharply, watching her breath curl into faint clouds that dissolved into the icy air. “Lucky me.”
Her eyes scanned the area, desperate for anything—a scrap of cloth, a hint of warmth—but there was nothing. The Inquisition had moved on, their faint traces scattered by the blizzard. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to summon some courage against the cold that gnawed relentlessly at her.
The trail stretched endlessly before her, but every step felt heavier, her strength sapping with each agonizing movement. Her right leg throbbed with every shift of weight, forcing her to rely on her left, which was rapidly growing numb. The blizzard didn’t relent, its icy claws wrapping tighter around her with every gust.
Ariana turned back to the fire’s remains, the idea of rekindling it flickering through her mind. She crouched again, her frozen hands clawing at the charred wood. It was soaked through, as useless as her own dwindling reserves. She pressed her hands together, willing warmth into them, her mark flickering faintly in response. No choice but to keep moving.
The cold seeped deeper, through armor and skin, gnawing at the edges of her mind. Her ribs ached with every shallow breath, a cruel reminder of her fragility. Doubt crept in, quiet but insidious, whispering at the edges of her resolve.
Is it even worth continuing?
The thought lingered, sharp and unwelcome, but then Cullen’s face filled her mind. His voice, steady and warm, soothed the edges of her fear. She thought of the way he made her feel—safe, cherished, and challenged all at once. She pictured his hand reaching for hers, the warmth in his gaze when he looked at her, the strength he lent her simply by being. He was her anchor, her tether to hope. And her ring. Maker, her ring. She’d given it to him to keep, and now she needed it back.
Her fingers curled against her side, pressing against the bruised ribs as if holding herself together. No. It’s worth it. For him. For all of them.
Gritting her teeth, Ariana forced herself upright, her legs shaking beneath her weight. Every movement was agony, her body screaming for rest, but she pressed on. She stumbled, catching herself on the snow-laden ground, her breaths coming in ragged bursts.
That’s when she heard them.
The low growls were faint at first, carried by the wind, but they were unmistakable. Wolves. The sound sent a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. Were they hunting her? Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs, the sound reverberating in her ears.
She let out a soft, bitter laugh, her voice barely audible over the storm. “I should’ve stayed in bed today,” she muttered, her tone dry despite the fear creeping through her.
The growls grew louder, closer, their guttural tones slicing through the howling wind. Her hand instinctively reached for a weapon, but the dagger that should have been strapped to her thigh was gone—lost in the chaos of Haven. She was defenseless, save for her wits and the faintly glowing mark on her hand.
Most people break under pressure. You don’t.
The voice was clear, calm, and commanding—his voice. Krieger. The phantom presence that pushed her forward when everything seemed bleakest. Ariana hated it, hated the strength it brought, hated the shadow it cast over her soul. But she didn’t deny it. She couldn’t. Not now.
Her breathing steadied as the words settled into her bones. She straightened slightly, the pain in her side a reminder of her limits but also of her survival. She was still standing. She was still moving. And that’s all that matters.
She pushed forward, each step a defiance of the cold and exhaustion dragging at her limbs. The wolves’ howls echoed behind her, a grim reminder of how precarious her position was. But she didn’t look back. She couldn’t afford to. Her focus remained on the faint trail ahead, the signs that the Inquisition had passed through.
Cullen was alive. She had to believe that. The thought of his arms around her, his steady presence beside her, was the only thing keeping her from falling apart. She couldn’t let herself falter—not when he was waiting for her. Not when she still had a promise to keep.
One more step, she told herself. One more breath.
The howls faded into the storm, the cold biting at her every inch. But Ariana kept moving, the memory of Cullen’s voice a lifeline against the void. She would find him. She would survive this.
She had to.
~~~
Cullen stood at the edge of the camp, his gloved hands wrapped tightly around a small, familiar object. The weight of the ring in his palm was nothing compared to the ache in his chest. He turned it over carefully, the firelight catching on the polished blue stone at its center, making it gleam like a shard of the morning sky. This was more than a ring—it was a promise, one they hadn’t been able to keep all those years ago.
The cold wind bit at his face, carrying the last remnants of the blizzard, but Cullen hardly noticed. His attention was fixed on the jagged peaks beyond the camp, now shrouded in a pale, swirling mist. Somewhere out there, Silver Rangers were searching. They clung to the belief that Ariana, the White Wolf, was alive. That she had survived the avalanche and the cold.
He closed his hand around the ring, the edges digging into his palm. If Riley’s right, he thought, his jaw tightening, if somehow she’s alive, I won’t waste another moment.
Memories of Ariana consumed him as he stood in the icy stillness. He thought of Kirkwall, the shared smiles that made the oppressive city seem lighter, the stolen moments of laughter amidst their struggles. He remembered the way she used to argue with him, fiery and determined, refusing to back down even when he was certain she would. The nights they spent dreaming of something better—dreams that felt fragile but real when she was beside him.
And then there was her voice the night she returned from Redcliffe, filled with a mix of sorrow and hope: I need you. That unspoken connection had pulled him back to her, time and time again.
Most of all, he thought of her standing in the Chantry, her voice trembling but steady as she said the words that had been etched into his heart ever since: I have always loved you.
The thought of losing her again—truly losing her this time—was unbearable. If the Maker granted him even one more chance, he would make it count. Cullen’s grip on the ring tightened. He would put it back on her finger, not as a memory of the life they’d once planned but as a promise for the future. He would marry her, no matter the challenges ahead. Nothing else mattered anymore. Whatever secrets she carried, whatever shadows still lingered, they would face them together. He wouldn’t let her go.
“Commander.” Leliana’s voice broke through his reverie. Cullen slipped the ring back into his pocket and turned, his posture stiffening. The spymaster approached with measured steps, her expression calm but her eyes sharp.
“We’ve received reports from the scouts,” she said, gesturing toward the group gathered around the map table. “They’ve identified a few potential routes through the pass to the north. It’s dangerous terrain, but it’s our best chance to find shelter and regroup.”
Cullen followed her to the table, where Cassandra, Josephine, Riley, and Solas were deep in discussion. The hastily sketched trails on the map before them painted a grim picture—narrow paths, steep drops, and the constant threat of frostbite or ambush. He listened as Cassandra outlined the risks, as Josephine calculated the logistics of moving so many through treacherous terrain. Riley stood nearby, arms crossed, her face grim but focused.
The tension was palpable, but before anyone could speak further, a sharp voice rang out:
“Lieutenant! Lieutenant Riley!”
Cullen and the others turned as a young man sprinted toward them, his breath clouding the cold air. It was Elliot, one of Riley’s most dependable scouts. His face was flushed, his eyes wide with urgency.
“What is it?” Riley demanded, stepping forward to meet him.
Elliot skidded to a stop, his words tumbling out in hurried gasps. “The scouts… in the pass… west. They think they saw someone.”
Riley’s eyes narrowed. “Someone?” she repeated, her voice dangerously low. “What do you mean?”
Elliot took a deep breath, steadying himself. “They think it’s Wolf.”
The world seemed to stop. The muffled conversations of the camp, the distant howl of the wind—all of it faded into silence in Cullen’s ears. His chest tightened, and his legs moved before his mind could catch up. He didn’t wait for further explanation. He was already running.
The snow crunched beneath his boots as he sprinted toward the western edge of the camp, his breath coming in sharp, visible bursts. Behind him, he heard Riley shouting, her voice sharp and commanding.
“Commander, wait!” she yelled, her own footsteps pounding in the snow as she followed. Cullen barely registered it. His focus was entirely on the distant peaks, the faint hope burning like a fire in his chest.
Cassandra’s armor clinked faintly as she joined the pursuit, and other Rangers moved swiftly to follow. The group’s urgency mirrored Cullen’s own, but none of them could match the desperation that drove him forward.
His mind raced with every step, his thoughts a storm of fear and hope. He pictured her face, her stubborn smile, the light in her eyes when she teased him. The image was so vivid it hurt. Please, Maker… let it be her.
The mist grew thicker as he neared the edge of the camp, the jagged mountains looming closer. His heart pounded, the weight of the ring in his pocket pressing against him like a reminder of everything he couldn’t lose. He pushed harder, his breath ragged, his determination unshaken.
If it’s her… I’m never letting go.
~~~
The cold wind howled through the narrow pass, whipping snow into blinding swirls around Ariana as she knelt by the remnants of a campfire. The faint glow of embers was her only solace, a fragile reminder that she wasn’t entirely lost in the wilderness. Her trembling hands hovered over the dying warmth, though they were too numb to feel much of anything. Each shallow breath sent stabbing pain through her broken ribs, but she didn’t care anymore. She had pushed beyond pain, beyond exhaustion.
The wolves’ howls echoed closer now, threading through the storm like taunts. They had been following her for hours—or maybe it had been days. Time was meaningless in this frozen hell.
I can’t stop here, she told herself, though her thoughts were sluggish, weighed down by the cold and despair. She clenched her fists against the numbing frost, forcing her legs to move. One step. Then another. Keep moving.
Ariana forced herself upright, her legs trembling beneath her weight. The snow was deep, each step a battle, but she pressed on. The trail narrowed as it wound through jagged rocks and frost-laden trees. Her vision blurred with fatigue, her body screaming for rest. Then, through the haze, she saw them—lights flickering against the storm, steady and warm.
Campfires. Tents. The Inquisition.
A sob escaped her lips, half-formed and caught in her throat. Relief surged through her chest, but her legs gave out, sending her crumpling into the snow. She tried to crawl, her fingers clawing at the icy ground, but the effort was futile. The cold began to seep in, numbing her body further, but she no longer cared. The light was there, so close.
The wolves’ howls were drowned out by a different sound—footsteps, voices calling out, urgent and clear. One voice rose above the others, cutting through the storm like a beacon.
“There! It’s her!”
That voice… Cullen?
Strong arms enveloped her, lifting her from the icy ground with a gentleness that belied their strength. Her head lolled against a warm chest, and through her fading consciousness, she caught the faint scent of elderflower and oakmoss. Familiar. Comforting.
“You’re safe now,” Cullen murmured, his voice low and trembling. His cheek brushed hers as he tightened his hold, shielding her from the biting wind. “I’ve got you, love. I’ve got you.”
The sudden shift in position sent a jolt of pain through her ribs, and Ariana flinched, a small gasp escaping her lips. Cullen froze for a moment, then adjusted his grip, one arm cradling her back more securely while the other supported her legs, careful to avoid putting pressure on her injuries.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice raw with guilt. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Ariana wanted to tell him it was fine, that it didn’t matter, but her lips barely moved. The effort to speak was too much. Instead, she let herself sink into his arms, trusting his strength, his presence.
The world wavered around her, the lights of the camp fading into blurred halos. She felt the warmth of his embrace, heard the steadiness of his heartbeat, and realized she was safe now. In his arms.
I made it. I kept my promise.
The corners of her lips curved into the faintest smile as darkness claimed her.