15 Guardian 9:41
The War Room was silent except for the faint scrape of Cullen’s boots against the stone floor as he made his way to the table in the center of the chamber. The flickering torches cast long shadows, their light playing over the carved stone reliefs that lined the walls. Cullen stood at attention, his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for Divine Justinia to speak.
She was seated at the head of the table, her serene expression betraying little of the tension that surely gripped her on the morning of the Conclave. Her hands rested lightly on the arms of her chair, her gaze steady as she regarded him.
“Commander,” she began, her voice calm but purposeful, “is everything prepared for today?”
“Yes, Your Holiness,” Cullen replied, his tone firm. “The Conclave grounds are secure, and our patrols have reported no unusual activity. Everything is proceeding as planned.”
Justinia inclined her head slightly, her eyes never leaving his. “Good. The safety of all who attend today depends on your diligence, Commander. I have no doubt you will rise to the occasion.”
“Of course,” Cullen replied, though he could sense there was more she wished to say. He stood his ground, waiting for her to continue.
“You know,” she said after a pause, “Lady Trevelyan spoke highly of you. She seemed certain of your capabilities, and your character.”
The mention of Ariana’s name sent a jolt through him, though his face betrayed nothing. “Lady Trevelyan?”
The Divine’s gaze sharpened, as though weighing his reaction. “She assured me that there was nothing you could have done to prevent what transpired in Kirkwall. Your assessment of the situation, she said, was correct.”
Cullen’s throat tightened, his mind racing through memories of those dark days. He had spent years questioning his decisions, wondering if he could have done more. Hearing that Ariana had defended him, even now, was both a salve and a fresh wound.
“Tell me, Commander. Did you truly believe the Order would not support you if you had relieved Knight-Commander Meredith of her command?” Justinia’s tone was measured and calm, but inquisitive.
Cullen froze at the question. Is that what Ariana had told her? He had always just told Ariana that it was complicated, he never confided in her that he didn’t believe the Order would support him in that decision. Though it was true, it was a large part of the reason he hadn’t done it. If he had and he was right, he would have lost his position, or worse, been removed from the Order. How did she know? *You figured it out, Ari. As you always do.*
“I did Your Holiness. I did not believe either the Order or the Chantry would stand behind my decision,” he said quietly, more to himself than to the Divine.
“Then, I am truly sorry, Commander,” Justinia replied, her tone gentle but pointed. “It would seem Lady Trevelyan is right to be upset with me.”
The statement caught Cullen by surprise “Upset with you?”
Justinia smiled softly “Yes. She certainly expressed her disappointment with mine and the Orders inaction,” Justinia paused, as if choosing her words “Lady Trevelyan is nothing if not… steadfast in her beliefs.”
Cullen chuckled softly. He knew Ariana well enough to know that she wouldn’t hold back regardless of who she was speaking to. “That she is,” he replied with an amused tone. Somehow imagining Ariana lecturing the Divine seemed fitting. *Maker’s breath, Ari…*
The Divine’s next question was as casual as a breeze, yet it hit with the force of a hammer. “You are engaged to her, are you not, Commander?”
Cullen’s breath caught, the unexpected question sending a shock through him. His thoughts reeled—memories of their engagement, the ring, the promises made under the weight of their shared struggles.
“That… was a long time ago,” he said finally, his voice strained, as though the words themselves were a confession.
Justinia tilted her head slightly, her calm gaze piercing. “Are you certain of that?” she asked softly, the simplicity of her question unsettling.
The doubt struck him like a blade, cutting through years of distance and silence. His mind raced back to their last moments together in Kirkwall—the way her lips had lingered against his in their final kiss, the whispered promises of a future they had never reached. He hadn’t removed the ring; neither had she. And neither had they ever spoken the words to end what they had started. *Goodbye, Cullen* No. She had ended it.
“How… how is that relevant?” he asked at last, though his voice carried less certainty than he intended.
Justinia’s faint smile deepened, though her tone remained as calm as ever. “Because your betrothed will need you in the days to come,” she said, her words deliberate and heavy with meaning.
For a moment, Cullen couldn’t find his voice, his thoughts tangling in the weight of realization. This was the first time anyone had ever referred to Ariana as his betrothed. In Kirkwall, such formalities hadn’t mattered. They hadn’t needed words for what they shared. Hearing it now, spoken so plainly, left him momentarily frozen. The formality of the title unsettling in its intimacy.
Cullen stared at her, the implications of her statement sinking in. “What are you saying, Your Holiness?” he asked, his voice laced with urgency.
But Justinia rose from her seat, her expression unreadable as she smoothed her robes. “I should be on my way,” she said simply, moving toward the door. “Thank you, Commander, for your dedication. Maker guide your path.”
With that, she left the War Room, leaving Cullen standing alone amidst the flickering torchlight, his thoughts a storm of confusion, longing, and a growing sense of unease.
~~~
The crisp morning air carried a biting chill, but Cullen barely noticed. He stood outside the Chantry, hands clasped tightly behind his back, his focus distant. His thoughts spiraled back to the Divine’s words in the War Room.
“Your betrothed will need you in the days to come.”
The phrase lingered, stirring questions he couldn’t shake. Ariana was here—he was sure of it now. But why? And what danger had Justinia brought her into? The Divine’s cryptic words felt deliberate, her game unsettling in its precision.
The steady rhythm of footsteps broke his reverie, drawing his gaze to the Divine as she stepped forward, her aides trailing behind. Cullen’s eyes narrowed, his focus sharpening. What game are you playing, Your Holiness?
Movement at the edge of the square caught his attention. A figure, cloaked in white fur, emerged from the shadows, their hood low against the morning light. Cullen’s breath caught as recognition struck him like a blow. Ariana. She moved with purpose, her posture confident yet guarded. As she approached, the Divine turned to meet her, and to Cullen’s astonishment, Ariana offered her arm. The Divine accepted it without hesitation, the ease between them unmistakable.
“Is that…” Cassandra’s voice broke the quiet, her words laced with disbelief.
“The White Wolf,” Leliana confirmed, her calm tone betraying a hint of confusion.
Cullen’s jaw tightened, his pulse quickening.
“Why is he with the Divine? This was supposed to be secure, Leliana!” Cassandra barked, her worry evident in the sharpness of her tone.
“I don’t know,” Leliana replied, her eyes narrowing as she studied the scene. “But it seems the Divine was expecting him.”
“Her,” Cullen corrected, his voice low but firm.
“What?” Cassandra and Leliana turned to him, their expressions a mix of confusion and curiosity.
“Expecting her,” Cullen repeated, his tone clipped, his gaze fixed on Ariana as she led the Divine toward the Temple.
Leliana’s sharp eyes searched his face, her suspicion immediate. “How do you know it’s a woman?”
Cullen’s lips pressed into a thin line, but his answer was resolute. “Because I know her,” he said simply, his voice heavy with meaning.
Cassandra’s brow furrowed. “You know the White Wolf?”
“I do,” Cullen muttered, his mind already racing through what this meant.
Leliana’s sharp mind was clearly piecing things together, her gaze flicking between Cullen and the cloaked figure. “Commander,” she said quietly, “what aren’t you telling us?”
But Cullen had no intention of answering—not now. His focus remained on Ariana, the weight of the Divine’s words pressing heavily against him. Your betrothed will need you.
As Ariana walked out of Have with the Divine, Cullen’s chest tightened. This wasn’t just about the Conclave. Whatever game Justinia was playing, Ariana was now at its center.
Without a word, Cullen turned and strode back toward the Chantry, his thoughts a chaotic storm of relief, frustration, and determination. He had spent years searching for her, only to find her thrust into danger again. But not this time. This time, he would find her before it was too late.
~~~
The rhythmic crunch of boots against the frosted dirt road filled the air, a steady cadence that mirrored the weight of Ariana’s thoughts. She walked alongside Divine Justinia, the stark white fur of her cloak catching the occasional gust of cold mountain wind. Ahead, the towering spires of the Temple of Sacred Ashes loomed, their jagged silhouettes framed by the gray morning sky.
The Divine’s voice broke the quiet, calm yet deliberate. “That was quite the entrance, White Wolf.”
Ariana chuckled softly, though it lacked her usual spark. “Subtlety has its uses, but it doesn’t turn heads. You wanted everyone to know I’m here with you. Now they do.”
“Yes, they do.” The Divine’s faint smile held a trace of approval. “And I thank you for it. I know what I’ve asked of you is not easy.”
Ariana glanced at her, her hazel-green eyes narrowing slightly. “If there’s a chance for peace, someone has to take the risk,” she replied, her tone firm but tinged with skepticism. “The Rangers believe this might be it. That’s why nearly all of them volunteered.”
“They volunteered because of you,” Justinia corrected gently, her steps unhurried but purposeful. “They believe in your vision, in your resolve. You give them something to hold onto, Lady Trevelyan.”
Ariana’s jaw tightened, her breath visible in the frigid air. “Let’s hope I didn’t just lead them into the Maker’s graveyard,” she muttered.
The Divine’s gaze softened, but her voice remained steady. “You carry much on your shoulders, child. But do not mistake caution for doubt. Your strength inspires more than you realize.”
Ariana hesitated, her steps faltering slightly before she turned her gaze back to the path ahead. “Why me?” she asked abruptly, her voice low but clear. “Why did you choose me for this? You could have called on anyone—mages, Templars, nobles with more influence.”
Justinia’s expression shifted, a quiet contemplation passing over her features. “Because, Ariana, you are none of those things, and yet you are all of them in spirit. You are not a rebel seeking to tear down for the sake of chaos. Nor are you shackled by rigid beliefs or blind allegiance to tradition.” She paused, her tone growing more resolute. “You believe in doing what is right, even when it costs you dearly. And in the days to come, I will need someone who can see past what is to what could be.”
Ariana exhaled sharply, her breath fogging in the cold air. “You’re placing a lot of faith in someone who’s broken every rule to get here.”
“Perhaps,” Justinia replied, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “But I would rather place my faith in someone who questions the rules than in someone who blindly enforces them.”
The weight of her words settled over Ariana, though she refused to let it show. Instead, she kept her eyes on the Temple ahead, its distant spires growing larger with every step. “I’ll stand by your side,” she said at last, her voice steady. “But don’t ask me to trust the Conclave. Too many people here stand to gain from seeing it fail.”
The Divine nodded solemnly. “That is why I need you. To guard against those who would see hope extinguished.”
They walked in silence for a time, the Temple drawing ever closer. The wind picked up, tugging at Ariana’s cloak and carrying the faint murmur of voices from the gathered crowd ahead. She could feel the weight of what lay ahead pressing down on her, the enormity of the moment threatening to crack her composure.
As the first banners of the Conclave came into view, Justinia spoke again, her voice softer now, almost a whisper. “Whatever happens today, know this, child—you are here because you are exactly who you were meant to be. And that is enough.”
Ariana swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on the Temple’s towering gates. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was barely audible over the wind. “Let’s hope the rest of Thedas sees it that way.”
The Divine offered no reply, only a steady presence at her side as they continued their approach. Together, they walked toward the precipice of history, each step drawing them closer to the uncertain future waiting beyond the Temple’s stone walls.
~~~
Cullen paced the War Room, the cold, gray light of the torches casting jagged shadows on the stone reliefs. His thoughts churned, a tempest of emotions he struggled to tame. Relief warred with frustration, joy clashed with anger. She’s here. She’s alive. But why? Why did the Divine bring her to this Maker-forsaken place?
He gritted his teeth, his mind replaying Justinia’s cryptic words. “Your betrothed will need you in the days to come.” What did she mean? Ariana was here, thrust into the most dangerous moment Thedas had seen in years. His hands clenched at the memory of her walking beside the Divine, her familiar cloak like a beacon that made his heart ache with longing—and fear.
His pacing stopped abruptly as realization struck. Varric. If anyone knew why Ariana was here, it would be him. Cullen left the War Room without a word, his boots echoing through the stone halls. He passed Leliana and Cassandra near the entrance; their curious glances barely registered as he stalked past, heading for the campfires outside.
He found Varric by a small fire, his crossbow resting beside him. The dwarf looked up, his expression shifting from casual amusement to wary curiosity. Cullen’s stormy demeanor betrayed his tightly wound emotions.
“Morning, Commander,” Varric greeted, his tone light but tinged with caution. “Here to share a drink, or just your usual dose of righteous indignation?”
“I’m not in the mood for games, Varric,” Cullen snapped, his voice low and sharp. “Why didn’t you tell me she would be here?”
Varric raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “She? You’re going to have to be more specific. I’ve met a lot of ‘shes.’”
“Ariana,” Cullen said, the name carrying both a weight and a tremor he couldn’t quite suppress.
Varric sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Ah. That she.”
“Yes, that she,” Cullen said, his frustration bubbling over. “Why is she here? After everything she’s been through—everything we’ve been through—why bring her into this mess?”
Varric studied him for a moment, his usual humor fading. “Why don’t you sit down, Commander? You’re looking like you’re ready to chew through stone.”
Cullen ignored the invitation, his fists clenching at his sides. “Answer me, Varric. Why did she agree to this?”
The dwarf let out a long breath, his gaze shifting to the fire. “Because Ariana doesn’t do anything halfway,” he said quietly. “You know that as well as I do. When the Divine asks her to stand for peace, she’ll throw herself into it headfirst, no matter the danger.”
Cullen’s jaw tightened, the truth of Varric’s words cutting deep. “She’s putting herself at risk for a cause that might not even succeed. Does she have any idea what she’s walking into?”
“She knows,” Varric said, his tone firm. “Better than anyone. She’s not here because she’s blind to the risks—she’s here because she knows someone has to take them.”
“And you?” Cullen pressed. “You knew she was involved in this. Why didn’t you stop her?”
Varric’s smirk returned, though it was tinged with sadness. “Stop her? Commander, you can’t stop Ariana Trevelyan from doing what she believes is right. The best you can do is stand beside her and try to keep her from getting herself killed.”
Cullen looked away, the weight of Varric’s words settling heavily on him. “She’s carrying too much,” he said quietly. “I can see it. She’s trying to bear the weight of all this alone.”
“She always does,” Varric said softly. “But she’s got people who care about her. People who’ll fight to keep her standing.”
Cullen’s gaze returned to Varric, his expression hardening with resolve. “I won’t let her face this alone. Not again.”
Varric nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Good. Because Maker knows, she’s too stubborn to ask for help.”
Cullen nodded as he turned to leave, but stopped as another question formed in his mind. One he wasn’t sure how to voice. “Varric…” Cullen cleared his throat, his mind struggling to find the words “I… Does she… What–“
“Oh for the love of… Of course she’s still in love with you” Varric interrupted “Maker knows that girl doesn’t know how not to be.”
Cullen smiled softly, thankful for the dwarf’s understanding “Thank you, Varric.”
A heavy silence settled between them, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Cullen’s mind was already racing, strategizing, planning. Whatever it takes, he thought. I’ll keep her safe.
“She’ll need you,” Varric said after a moment, his voice low but certain. “More than she knows.”
Cullen nodded, his jaw set. “And I’ll be there. No matter what.”
~~~
The chill of the mountain air seeped into Cullen’s skin as he stood in the War Room alongside Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine. Their discussion about Conclave strategy was interrupted by the sudden arrival of a scout, his urgency unmistakable.
“Commander!” the scout exclaimed, out of breath. “Scouts are reporting a large mounted force approaching Haven from the eastern pass.”
The room fell silent, confusion rippling through the group before Cassandra’s voice cut through like steel. “Are they hostile?”
“No, Seeker,” the scout replied quickly, though uncertainty laced his tone. “At least… they don’t appear to be.”
Cullen’s brow furrowed deeply. “Are they Templars?”
The scout shook his head. “No, sir. Not from what we can tell.”
Cullen’s frustration mounted. “So what do we know? Anything beyond ‘mounted force’?”
“Are they flying a banner?” Josephine interjected, her voice calm but focused.
Before the scout could respond, another burst into the room, his face flushed from exertion. “Commander! A small squad has broken off from the main group and is advancing toward Haven—ten riders at most.”
Cassandra immediately stepped away from the table, her stride decisive. “Then we go see for ourselves. If this is a threat, we will face it head-on.”
Cullen nodded, already heading for the door. “Agreed. They may be delivering a message or testing our defenses. Either way, we’ll get answers.”
Leliana exchanged a glance with Josephine, her calm demeanor concealing a flicker of concern. “I’ll join you. If this is a diplomatic matter, we must tread carefully.”
Josephine hesitated but eventually followed. “It would be wise to offer the appropriate reception, should it be needed.”
The group emerged into the crisp morning air, the tension palpable among the soldiers stationed at the gates. Scouts and sentries stood at attention, their eyes fixed on the approaching riders. The sound of hooves echoed against the mountain pass, growing louder with each moment. The lead rider, cloaked in black, moved with deliberate precision, her posture radiating authority.
Cullen’s gaze narrowed. “Are they armed?”
“Yes, Commander,” a sentry confirmed. “But they’re not attacking. They’re slowing as they approach.”
“Good,” Cullen muttered, his hand instinctively brushing the hilt of his sword. “Let’s keep it that way.”
The riders came into full view, their disciplined formation unmistakable. Cassandra’s sharp eyes assessed them. “This is no ordinary group. They’re trained—highly trained.”
As the squad reached the gates, the lead rider dismounted, her black cloak sweeping behind her. Pulling back her hood, Riley stepped forward, her sharp gaze scanning the group with calculated precision.
“Who’s in charge here?” she called, her tone firm and unyielding.
Cullen stepped forward, recognition flickering in his eyes. “Riley,” he said evenly, though surprise tinged his voice. “What are you doing here?”
Riley arched a brow, her expression cool but faintly amused. “Well, you’re not dead. That’s good. You’re also not missing. Also good. She won’t kill me now.”
Cullen’s confusion deepened. “Who won’t kill you?”
“She wanted to go looking for you,” Riley said, shrugging. “When I finally told her that the Kirkwall Circle had fallen and you were missing, she wasn’t exactly thrilled with me.”
Cullen’s chest tightened. “You kept it from her?”
“For months,” Riley admitted with a faint grimace. “Turned out to be a bad idea.”
Before Cullen could press further, Cassandra interjected, her tone sharp. “Who are you, and why are you here?”
Riley’s sharp gaze flicked to Cassandra, her tone measured but firm. “Riley, First Lieutenant of the Silver Rangers. We’re here at the Divine’s request to act as a peacekeeping force for the Conclave. Fifty Rangers, including the White Wolf, are already stationed at the Temple. The rest of our force is moving into position.”
Cassandra’s brows shot up. “That’s why the White Wolf was with her?” she asked, incredulous.
Leliana stepped forward, her tone calm but probing. “Do you have proof of this?”
Wordlessly, Riley retrieved a sealed letter from her saddlebag and handed it over. “Directly from the Divine herself.”
Leliana broke the seal and scanned the contents, nodding slowly. “It’s true. The Divine believed additional measures were necessary. The Rangers are here as a neutral force to deter violence.”
Cassandra frowned deeply. “Why weren’t we informed?”
Riley’s expression didn’t waver. “I’m not privy to those answers, Seeker. Our job is to ensure this Conclave doesn’t end in bloodshed. Nothing more.”
“How many of you are there?” Cullen asked, his voice steadier now, though his thoughts churned.
“Two hundred fifty,” Riley replied. “Fifty are already at the Temple, and the rest are en route.”
Josephine offered a diplomatic smile. “This is precisely the support we needed. We should be grateful for their assistance.”
Riley smirked faintly, turning her attention back to Cullen. And motioning for him to take a few steps away from the group. She stepped closer, her voice lowering so only he could hear. “You should know, your letter didn’t reach her until a couple of weeks ago. She… didn’t know you were looking for her. We kept that from her as well.”
“What? Why?” Cullen asked curtly
“We received the letter around the same time that we heard of Kirkwall falling.” Riley began, seeming almost ashamed “We couldn’t confirm if you were alive or dead, we just knew you were missing. We thought it best to not tell her any of it until we knew more. She would have left everything to go looking for you and we didn’t know what she would find.”
Cullen stiffened at her words, his emotions swirling. It’s not that she didn’t want him to see him. It was that she didn’t know he was looking for her. Had she believed he didn’t want her? And now she believed he was dead. Now he was certain he needed to see her. Now more than ever.
“I’m sorry, Cullen.” Riley said as her gaze shifted down. “We believed we were doing what was best for her. I don’t know what your feelings are now, but know this: When we finally told her, when she read your letter? Maker, Cullen, I thought nothing could scare me more than Ariana on a mission. Turns out I was wrong. Ariana searching for you? That’s terrifying.”
Riley stepped back, addressing her Rangers with sharp authority. “Let’s move,” she ordered, mounting her horse. The squad rode off toward the eastern pass, their discipline a clear mark of the Rangers’ efficiency.
His thoughts churned as he watched Riley address her Rangers, her commands sharp and unwavering. She thought I wasn’t looking for her. She thought I didn’t care. His fists clenched as he exhaled slowly, steadying the storm within him. It wasn’t just about finding Ariana now—it was about mending what had been broken by silence and distance. And if she thinks I’ll stand by while she risks her life, she’s wrong.
His jaw tightened as Riley mounted her horse, her squad moving out with the disciplined precision of the Rangers. Cullen’s hands clenched at his sides, his thoughts a swirling tempest. He couldn’t simply wait. Not anymore. Every moment she was out there, walking into the jaws of danger, felt like a betrayal of the promises he had made her long ago. No more waiting. He turned abruptly, already formulating a plan.
~~~
The rhythmic sound of boots against the dirt path was steady, almost soothing, if not for the tension hanging thick in the air. The trees lining the trail whispered with the rustle of the wind, their bare branches clawing at the sky like silent witnesses to what lay ahead. The silence of the mountain temple was broken only by the faint rustle of cloaks and the occasional distant murmur of the wind. The Rangers had already begun stationing themselves around the Temple, their presence visible but non-threatening—a delicate balance of readiness and restraint.
As the first of the mages and Templars began to arrive, Ariana moved through the crowd, her eyes sharp, her demeanor calm but commanding. The tension between the two factions was palpable. They avoided each other, but the wary glances exchanged across the courtyard were unmistakable.
This is fragile, Ariana thought. It won’t take much to break it.
The Divine watched the proceedings from the steps of the Temple, her expression serene as always. Ariana stayed close, moving with purpose as she assessed each station and confirmed every detail of their security. Finally, she turned to the Divine.
“Wait here while we conduct another sweep of the grounds,” Ariana said softly, her voice carrying a rare reverence. “I’ll station two Rangers outside. If you need anything, they’ll be here. No one enters without your explicit permission.”
The Divine inclined her head, offering a warm smile. “Thank you, Lady Trevelyan. I knew the world could count on you.”
Ariana hesitated, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of those words. “Let’s not talk about me, the world, or being the last hope for peace. This is already… a lot. I’m no great hero. I’m just doing what needs to be done.”
The Divine chuckled softly, her serene smile unwavering. “You may not see yourself as a hero, child, but others do. Perhaps that is enough.”
Ariana gave a weak smile before stepping back and closing the door. She nodded to the Rangers stationed outside, issuing final instructions before pulling her hood up and mask into place. Just keep moving, she told herself, pushing down the growing unease in her chest. There’s no room for doubt now.
Walking the Temple grounds, she checked every post, every watchpoint. Her sharp eyes scanned for anything out of place as she moved through the halls. She passed groups of wary mages and tense Templars, their unease rippling like a live wire through the air. For now, her presence—and the Rangers—kept the peace. But she knew it wouldn’t last.
Satisfied the perimeter was secure, she began making her way back toward the Divine. That’s when she heard it—a scream that tore through the air, sharp and desperate.
“Someone help me!”
The scream pierced the air like a blade, sharp enough to freeze her mid-step. Her heart lurched, a cold dread knotting her stomach as her hand instinctively went to her daggers. The corridor blurred around her as she ran, the weight of her worst fears driving each step.
Rounding the final corner, she froze. The two Rangers stationed outside the Divine’s door lay motionless on the ground, their bodies crumpled like discarded dolls. Her breath hitched, panic clawing at the edges of her mind.
Focus.
She drew her blades and burst through the doors.
Inside, chaos reigned. The Divine was magically restrained, her face pale but defiant. Surrounding her were several Grey Wardens, their faces twisted with desperation. At their center stood a figure wreathed in shadow, his very presence radiating decay and malevolence. His crimson eyes locked onto Ariana, and she felt the weight of his gaze like a physical blow.
“What’s going on here?!” Ariana demanded, her voice cutting through the commotion as she raised her blades, ready to strike.
The shadowed figure sneered, his voice a chilling growl. “An intruder,” he spat. “Kill her. Now.”
The Wardens turned toward Ariana, their hands glowing with unstable, frantic magic. But before they could act, the Divine’s voice rang out, fierce and commanding despite her restraints. “Run while you can! Warn them!”
In the chaos, the Divine wrenched a glowing artifact from the figure’s grasp. It clattered to the floor, sliding to Ariana’s feet.
The artifact pulsed with an otherworldly light, its presence almost hypnotic. Ariana’s gaze locked onto it, her instincts screaming at her to act. She stooped to grab it, her fingers closing around the strange object.
The moment her fingers touched the artifact, an icy fire ripped through her veins. Her vision fractured into shards of light and shadow, her breath caught in her throat. She felt as though the weight of the Fade itself pressed down on her, ancient whispers clawing at the edges of her mind. Pain seared through her arm, unlike anything she had ever felt. She gasped, her vision blurring as white-hot agony consumed her.
“No!” the Divine cried, her voice filled with anguish.
A blinding flash erupted from the artifact, its light swallowing the room. The screams and chaos faded into silence, replaced by an overwhelming void.
Then… nothing.
~~~
The air in the War Room was thick with tension as Cullen stood with Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine. Their discussion centered on contingencies for the Conclave, voices low but focused. Despite their careful planning and the Rangers’ presence, Cullen’s unease simmered beneath the surface. The Conclave was a tinderbox, and even the smallest spark could ignite it.
“We’ll need to position our forces carefully,” Cullen said, his tone clipped. “If tempers—”
The ground beneath their feet shook violently, cutting him off mid-sentence. A deafening roar shattered the air, and the walls seemed to groan under the force. The table jolted, papers scattering as Cullen braced himself against its edge.
“What in the Maker’s name—” Cullen began, his voice sharp.
A sickly green glow seeped through the cracks of the War Room door, its light casting unsettling shadows on the stone walls. Cassandra was already on her feet, her expression grim.
Leliana turned, her voice urgent. “Something’s happened at the Temple. We need to move—now.”
Cullen’s mind raced, her words barely registering. The Temple. Ariana. He had been planning to leave soon, to find her and confront the weight of their shared past. Now, that chance felt like it had been ripped away in an instant.
He straightened, nodding sharply. “Agreed. Let’s go.”
The group rushed outside into the biting mountain air. The sight that greeted them froze Cullen in his tracks. A massive column of greenish-white light surged skyward from the direction of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, tearing through the sky like a blade. Around it, the heavens fractured, splintering into jagged shards that pulsed with unnatural energy.
“By the Maker…” Josephine whispered, her hand trembling as it rose to her mouth.
Cassandra’s jaw tightened as she unsheathed her weapon. “The Temple. We must go immediately.”
Cullen tore his gaze from the sky and barked orders to the nearby soldiers. “Ready the horses! Mobilize every available unit. We leave at once.”
Leliana pointed toward the horizon, her voice steady but grim. “It’s not just the Temple. Look.”
Cullen followed her gaze, his heart sinking. Across the mountains, smaller rifts dotted the landscape, shimmering like fractured glass. Each pulsed with the same malevolent light, their presence spreading like a contagion.
“This isn’t just one disaster,” Leliana continued, her voice low. “It’s spreading.”
“We’ll address that later,” Cullen said, forcing steadiness into his tone. “Right now, the Divine is at the Temple—and so are the Rangers.” His throat tightened as he added silently, And Ariana.
The image of her standing in Haven, her white cloak stark against the darkened village, flashed in his mind. He had let her walk away, confident there would be time to see her again. But now? Now that confidence felt like a cruel joke.
He gripped the hilt of his sword, his knuckles white. Not yet. She’s strong. She has to be.
But doubt gnawed at him. What if this time, he was too late? What if, after years of searching, fate had brought her back to him only to take her away again?
“Andraste guide me,” he whispered, the words a plea as much as a prayer.
Then, steeling himself, Cullen strode toward the gathered soldiers, his resolve sharpening with every step. “We ride for the Temple,” he commanded, his voice firm despite the storm within.
This time, he would find her. He wouldn’t let her slip away—not again.
~~~
Riley had stationed her Rangers strategically along the winding paths leading to the Temple, their watchful eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of trouble. The tension in the air was palpable, the kind of quiet before a storm that Riley had learned to recognize all too well. She had hoped the Conclave would pass without incident, though deep down, she hadn’t truly believed it.
The explosion struck like a thunderclap, an unstoppable force that rippled through the ground beneath her feet. Riley staggered, her balance faltering as the shockwave roared down the mountain. The light—blinding and unnatural—seared her vision, and the deafening sound drowned out the startled cries of her Rangers.
“Maker’s breath…” she whispered, shielding her eyes with her arm as she turned toward the source. Her heart sank. The Temple of Sacred Ashes was engulfed in a column of radiant light, its spires dwarfed by the pulsing energy that tore through the sky. Above it, the heavens fractured, jagged edges glowing like shattered glass.
Then came the screams. Not human screams—something otherworldly, a sound that clawed at her very soul.
“Rangers, to the Temple!” Riley’s voice rang out, cutting through the chaos. “Move, now!”
The Rangers responded instantly, their training overriding their fear. They surged toward the mountain paths with weapons drawn, their movements efficient and precise. Riley drew her greatsword in one smooth motion, the weight of it grounding her as she charged forward.
Hold on, Wolf. Just hold on.
Their advance was short-lived.
The first demon emerged with a guttural shriek, its twisted form clawing its way out of a rift in the air. Its glowing eyes locked onto them, and within moments, more demons appeared, their monstrous shapes flickering with malevolent energy.
“Maker save us…” one of the Rangers muttered, his voice trembling.
“Hold the line!” Riley bellowed, her voice sharp and commanding. “Protect the wounded! No one gets through!”
The Rangers formed a defensive line, their bows and blades ready as the demons charged. Riley met the first with a powerful swing, her greatsword cleaving through its unnatural flesh. It dissolved into a dark mist with a piercing wail, but another immediately took its place.
The battle descended into chaos. Riley’s muscles burned as she swung her blade in wide arcs, her strikes precise and deadly. Around her, the Rangers fought with grim determination, their shouts and the clash of steel barely audible over the shrieks of the demons. But for every demon they felled, more emerged, their numbers seemingly endless.
“Riley!” one of her lieutenants shouted, his voice barely audible over the din. Blood streaked his face as he stumbled toward her. “We can’t hold them!”
“Just keep them back!” Riley yelled, her voice raw but unyielding. “Help will come!”
It has to come, she thought desperately. She glanced toward the mountain pass, hoping to see reinforcements, but the path remained empty.
The image of Ariana flashed in her mind—her best friend, her sister, the girl she’d sworn to protect. Riley had seen Ariana walk into danger countless times, but this? This was different. The explosion, the column of light, the screams—it all felt like the end.
“Form up!” Riley commanded, forcing her fear aside. “Push forward! We have to reach the Temple!”
The Rangers rallied, their movements synchronized as they advanced. They cut through the onslaught of demons with practiced efficiency, but every step forward was met with greater resistance. The rifts continued to spit out more creatures, their grotesque forms growing larger and more frenzied.
Riley gritted her teeth, her resolve hardening. We’re coming, Wolf. Just… hold on.
Her greatsword sliced through another demon, its body dissipating into mist. Around her, the Rangers pressed on, their faces set with grim determination. But the path to the Temple was steep, and the demons relentless.
“Help will come,” Riley muttered under her breath, her voice a quiet mantra. “It has to.”
She could feel the doubt creeping in, but she refused to let it take hold. If Ariana was alive, if there was even a chance she had survived, then Riley would fight her way to her side—no matter what it took.
~~~
Cullen led his forces up the treacherous mountain path, his breath forming white plumes in the freezing air. The cold bit through his armor, a constant reminder of the unyielding conditions. Every step revealed more signs of devastation—scorched trees stood like blackened sentinels, and the ground was littered with debris and the remnants of battle. The acrid stench of sulfur mixed with the metallic tang of blood, and distant screams echoed unnervingly through the crags.
What in the Maker’s name caused this? The question gnawed at him as they pressed forward. His mind flickered to the Temple, to the Divine, and—despite his efforts to suppress it—to Ariana. She had been there, leading fifty Rangers stationed around the grounds. The thought sent a sharp pain through his chest. She was there.
They broke through a particularly dense wave of demons to find a group of Rangers holding their ground near a bend in the path. Riley stood at the center of the skirmish, her greatsword cleaving through a demon with brutal efficiency as she barked orders to her troops. When her sharp gaze locked onto Cullen’s forces, a flicker of relief crossed her face.
“About time!” Riley called, her voice cutting through the chaos as she parried another attack. “We’re pinned down here, and more keep coming.”
Cullen urged his horse forward, dismounting swiftly as he reached her. “What’s the situation?” he demanded, his tone brisk, his grip tightening on his sword.
“The Temple’s just ahead,” Riley replied, gesturing toward the jagged path. Her voice was steady despite the chaos. “But we can’t get close. Demons are pouring out of those rifts faster than we can cut them down. We’ve held the line so far, but it’s only a matter of time before we lose ground.”
Cullen’s gaze followed the twisting path toward the Temple. Above it, the fractured sky pulsed with an unnatural, otherworldly light. Whatever happened up there… it’s not over.
“We’ll combine forces,” he said, his voice resolute. “Push through together. The Divine may still be alive, and we’re going to reach her.”
Riley nodded sharply, though her lips curved into a faint smirk. “Fine by me,” she quipped, her tone laced with grim humor. “Just try not to slow us down, Commander.”
Cullen shot her a glare but didn’t rise to the bait. Turning to the soldiers and Rangers around them, he raised his voice above the din of battle. “Form up! Stay tight, and hold the line. We move in waves—watch each other’s backs, and don’t let them break us.”
The combined forces surged forward, a wall of steel and determination cutting through the demon horde. Cullen fought at the front, his sword a blur of precision and strength. Yet every step forward felt like wading through quicksand—the demons seemed endless, each wave more ferocious than the last.
Riley fought beside him, her greatsword cleaving through abominations with practiced ease. Her focus was unwavering, but Cullen caught her glancing toward the Temple, her jaw clenched with determination. He didn’t need to ask who occupied her thoughts.
Neither of them spoke Ariana’s name, but her presence was a shadow between them—unspoken, yet tangible. Cullen’s thoughts churned as they pushed onward. She was there. She has to be alive. She has to.
The closer they got, the louder the sounds of battle became—the clash of steel, the guttural roars of demons, and the anguished cries of the wounded. Cullen’s heart pounded, each step a struggle against the growing dread in his chest. He forced himself to focus on the fight, to shove down the fear clawing at the edges of his mind.
“Keep moving!” he bellowed, his voice sharp as his sword cut through another demon. “We’re almost there!”
Beside him, Riley muttered something under her breath, her words lost in the cacophony of battle. But her expression was unmistakable—a fierce, unrelenting drive to reach the Temple, to find Ariana.
Cullen’s own resolve hardened as they pushed through the final stretch together. Whatever awaited them at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, they would face it head-on. For the Divine. For Thedas. And, for Cullen, above all else—for Ariana.
~~~
Ariana’s eyes fluttered open to an eerie, otherworldly silence. The air was thick, humming with an oppressive energy that made her skin crawl. She tried to push herself up, but her limbs felt sluggish, as though weighted by an invisible force. The ground beneath her wasn’t quite solid—translucent and shifting, it pulsed with an unnatural green light that seemed to move in time with her heartbeat.
Her hand throbbed, and when she glanced down, she saw a faint green glow emanating from her palm. Panic tightened her chest. What is this? Where am I? The memory of searing pain flickered at the edges of her mind—the Divine’s voice, the artifact, the blinding light—and then… nothing. The harder she tried to piece it together, the more fragmented it became, as though her own mind refused to cooperate.
The whispers began, faint and disjointed, threading through the air like an unseen current. Shadows flickered at the edges of her vision, but when she turned, they vanished. The landscape was a twisted, surreal nightmare—jagged cliffs and impossible spires that seemed to ripple and shift as she moved.
“Hello?” Her voice broke the silence but didn’t echo. Instead, it was swallowed by the landscape, absorbed into the hum of magic surrounding her. A wave of disorientation hit her, and she staggered, clutching her side. “Is anyone there?”
The only response was the whispering, growing louder, words tantalizingly close but always just out of reach. She stumbled forward, her boots sinking slightly into the unstable ground, every step feeling like a battle against the terrain itself.
Then, cutting through the chaos, came a voice. Low, urgent, and commanding. “This way.”
Ariana froze, spinning toward the source. A figure stood on a jagged outcrop ahead, silhouetted against a green rift in the sky. Their hand was raised, beckoning her.
“Who are you?” she called, her voice trembling with equal parts fear and desperation. The figure didn’t answer but turned to ascend a set of rough-hewn steps spiraling toward the rift.
Ariana hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to stay back. But a chilling, inhuman screech shattered her resolve. She whipped around to see grotesque forms materializing from the shadows—demons, their shapes shifting and twisting as they lunged toward her, their limbs clicking unnaturally against the uneven ground.
Run. The thought surged through her like a command, propelling her forward. She bolted toward the figure, her heart pounding as she leapt over cracks and fissures that opened beneath her feet. Memories flickered in her mind—the Divine’s cry, the explosion at the Temple, her Rangers—but every time she reached for them, they slipped away like smoke.
The spider-like demons gained on her, their guttural chittering echoing louder with each step. One lunged, its jagged claws grazing her cloak. She stumbled, scrambling to her feet as terror coursed through her.
“Take my hand!” The figure’s voice rang out again, clear and commanding.
Ariana’s gaze snapped upward. The figure was at the top of the stairs now, their hand extended toward her. The rift blazed behind them, its light throwing their face into shadow.
The demons were too close. Their shrieks and chittering clawed at her sanity as she raced up the steps, her legs burning with the effort. One demon leapt toward her, its claws raking the stone beside her as she dodged. She lunged upward, her fingers brushing the figure’s hand.
The figure grasped her firmly, pulling her the last few steps. The rift’s light engulfed her, the pain in her palm searing through her arm with unbearable intensity. She screamed, the sound lost in the blinding brilliance that consumed her vision. The world fractured and dissolved into light.
Ariana awoke to freezing stone beneath her cheek. Her body trembled uncontrollably, every muscle screaming in protest. The green glow from her palm flickered faintly, pulsing in time with her labored breaths.
Voices reached her, faint at first, then sharper.
“She’s alive! Someone get help!” Riley’s voice cut through the haze, frantic and filled with relief.
Ariana tried to move, but her strength failed her. Her vision swam, shadows and figures shifting above her. She caught glimpses of Rangers rushing toward her, their faces taut with fear. Riley was at her side, gripping her shoulders as if willing her to stay conscious.
And then—is that Cullen? His form blurred at the edge of her vision, but the sight of him, even half-formed, sent a jolt through her fading thoughts.
The cold pressed in again, her body too weak to resist. Darkness swallowed her, but not before Riley’s voice echoed once more, strong and steady. “Hold on, Wolf. Just hold on.”