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Description

“Since the beginning of time, history has been full of things beyond our comprehension. So very often, we used parables and legends to explain what we could not understand, and to hide that which we would rather forget. We spend so much time, living in our illusions, believing our own lies, that we are unprepared for when reality knocks on our door.”

    -- Sathera



    Light.

    How long had it been since he had even dreamed of such a thing. Ages? Eons? Such trivial things were not supposed to exist in the realm of nothingness. Yet time still marched on, coursing in a manner beyond reality, wearing against his consciousness to intimately remind him of every passing moment.

    And there it hung, a sliver of existence lost in the seas of nothingness. It was but a simple pinpoint floating in the distance, but the infinite void of black made such a simple thing a blinding beacon. A hole in the physical world had been opened.

    Reaching out, he called upon his reserve of energy. Even weakened, gathering energy in the void was still possible, even if only in just miniscule amounts, and he had been gathering for a long time.

    Grasping the thread of light, he pulled himself through.

-¤-

The 9th of Umbralis, 9:37 Dragon

    Elione watched as her commander stood at the overlook of their outpost, eyes searching the valley for any intruders. The winds tugged at his green-grey cloak.

    Plenty of hunter teams had stayed at the lookout over the years, but Marscius was as constant as the mountains themselves. No one remembered the time he had first taken watch, but no one would be surprised if he had a name for every stone on the mountain and in the valley below.

    Clouds billowed and swelled as the tumbled across the sky. A stormy season for the Free Marches.

    No, Elione thought. This is no ordinary storm.

    Sitting across from her, Gildart, the team's mage, was practically buzzing with excitement. A wind was blowing across the Fade and through the Veil, heralding a major shift in the realm of Spirits.

    The senior hunter's pointed ears twitched. "Could it...?” He whispered to himself.

    Gildart grinned madly, tapping his feet against the stone floor. Everyone else could feel a sense of what he was experiencing. The storm swirled around overhead, lightning flashing across the skies in wild, constant display. Thunder rumbled in the heavens and the earth quivered beneath their feet.

    As quickly as it had come, the storm quieted down, easing over the landscape.

    "It is time." Marscius declared.

    Pulling out a mirror, the senior hunter dropped it on the ground.

    "Take us home." he ordered. His stony expression could not hide his elation.

    The rest circled around Glidart as he gathered the necessary energies to complete his task. Sweat trickled from his forehead in spite of the cooled mountain air. With an arcane pulse, the mirror glowed at his touch.

    Nodding to his compatriots, one by one, they stepped into the mirror. Glancing back at the outpost that had long been his home, Marscius followed. With one last pulse, Gildart brought up the rear, leaving the mirror to disintegrate behind him.

-¤-

    Rain fell gently outside the Circle of Cumberland, a damp winter for Nevarra. In the dorms, the mages milled quietly in a darkened room,

    Mariannae had packed her meager possessions into a bag, glancing over her shoulder nervously as she sat on her bed, waiting for the signal from her peers. Even with the distractions their jail keepers had been dealing with, she still expected them to come bursting through the doors at any moment.

    The wait was agonizing, but they only had one chance at pulling off an escape. Slinging her bag across her back, she donned a cloak and wrapped her scarf around her neck. She could hardly believe how things were progressing, but there was no doubting her master’s words.

    After the incident at Kirkwall, all of Thedas in an uproar, none more so than the Templar Order. The Chantry’s grip on the Circles grew tighter with every passing day, threatening to strangle them all. There had been talks, of course. The Chantry proper had seen to that, but with the carnage wrought by Mage terrorists, the fanatics were baying for blood.

            “We leave tonight.” Those words were whispered to her in passing. Long enough a sentence to convey a message, short enough that an idle Templar would not notice. Mere caution would not be enough with their wardens on edge as they were.

            Some of the younger mages were gathered around her feet, children whose magical talent had been recently discovered, now waiting for the moment that would decide their fate.

            What felt like a pulse reverberated through the building. Those that she could see in the dark stood up straight, eyeing the corners of the room. By all impressions, it had not been a part of the plan, carrying an otherworldly sense, an empty howling of the void.

            Then shouts erupted downstairs.

            “It’s time.” Lora said. The older enchanter took her staff in hand and walked to the door. Mariannae gathered the children assigned to her and followed, falling in with the rest. The door opened with a slight creak.

            The Templars had already thinned out their patrols to deal with the uprising in other parts of the Circle. The vaulted ceiling carried the sounds of battle that led them to the fighting. But there were still some that remain.

            One turned to them, drawing his sword and raising his shield, ready to put down any resistance. “Return to your quar-!”

            He was cut off by a sword to the back. Mariannae sighed in relief. Few in number as they were, the mages of Thedas still had sympathizers, those who were not eager to condemn every mage of every Circle for what had happened in Kirkwall. The Templar named Ciran nodded to their group and scampered ahead to scout for more of his brethren.

            The other groups were doing their job well in keeping the Templars from noticing their escape, though Mariannae wondered how many were perishing to give them that time. She shook her head and focused on moving herself forward.

    This is what war is like. We all knew this would happen.

            Escape was paramount. It would be up to them to keep the cause alive.

-¤-

            Braden rolled himself out of bed, grateful that none of the servants were present to see a Magister act in such an unsightly fashion. His black hair was a mess and when looked at the mirror, he could see an ample amount of crust built up around his brown eyes.

            He had a vague recollection of a meeting he was supposed to attend today.

            A knock at the door drew him from his contemplations. “Master?” a skittish voice called from behind the door. Braden recognized the voice as belonging to Meline.

            “What is it?” he answered.

            “You told me to wake you before-”

            “So I did.” Braden interrupted with a sudden surge of energy, throwing on a robe. When he opened his bedroom door, the young girl slammed against the wall and bowed at her master’s passing. He did not understand why she acted like that, save for that her previous master was somewhat abusive. Rubbing his eyes, he turned to the girl. “Did anyone send for me yet?”

            Meline vigorously shook her head.

            “Where is Dalos?”

            “Present as ever, my lord.” Dalos replied, striding down the hall.

            Braden turned to face his attendant. “Excellent! Meline, you may leave.”

            The girl bowed and scampered off.

    Once they were alone, Braden went to business. “Any news or missives?”

            “Just one.” He replied, pulling a piece of paper from the inside of his clothes. “It was hand delivered last night. I have no idea how it made it into my quarters.”

            The magister snatched the paper from Dalos’ hand.

            “My lord, I feel it my duty to-.” He hushed when Braden raised a hand. “Of course, my lord.”

            “This is a dangerous game I’m playing, but one that I know quite well. Now let me see what this contact has to say.”

            While reading through the letter, the sensation of a wave passed over him. It felt like he was reinvigorated by it, the weariness of the political games of Tevinter dissipating. He could not help but grin.

    “It’s time.”

-¤-

            Flemeth approached one of her old habitats. The structure had long since been weathered down to a mound of trash, but it was not the structure itself that interested her.

            Skirting along the edge of the clearing, she found a certain rock amidst the trees that had served as a marker for this site, and remarkably had not been knocked over or carried away in the intervening years. A simple spell had made sure of that.

            She pressed her hand against the rock and the ground surrounding the tree sank into a stair case that led to the ground below. The cavern contained a number of items that she had preserved of the years, but she had come for one in particular. The sarcophagus at end of the chamber.

            As she walked towards it, she felt a pulse hit her. A sense of panic washed over her, which she quickly shoved aside as she went about her task.

            Time was already running out.

The 11th of Verimensis, 9:38 Dragon

    “Are you sure that stuff was still good, Gladel?”

    “Are ya sure you’re not a moron, Moreck? We’ve enough problems with the last time the captain caught us drunk. Dun let him do it again.”

    “But my tummy feels odd.”

    “Quit your gripin’ and keep yer eyes open. We’re on patrol, remember?”

    “Who’s gonna be out here with it so cold?”

    “Who knows? Just shut yer trap.”

    Late night patrols were bad any day, but it was far worse in the winter. The cold winds swept down the mountain and blew through the city relentlessly. Gladel had often wondered what it was like for those in the mountains.

    Bet they have plenty of warm furs and fires to keep them warm, he thought. And not having to do patrol duty at night for a whole week.

    His companion slapped him on the shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts.

    ”Look over there,” Moreck said.

    The light caught the silhouette enough to show his pointed ears. Gladel looked at his partner. “Let’s have us some fun, eh?”

    The two approached the elf, who did not seem to notice.

    “Oy! What’re y’doing out at night, knife ear?” Moreck called out.

    “Just enjoying the city at night,” the elf replied, not even turning to face them.

    “Really?” Gladel said with amusement as both guards drew their swords and approached the elf. “Y’shoulda stayed ‘n the Alienage.”

    Moreck swung first. As his sword moved through the air, the elf did not move at first, waiting until the last possible moment before raising his gauntleted hand to catch the blade. With his other hand he knocked his shield away. With his challenger’s defense broken, the elf thrust his flattened hand into the guard’s abdomen, with flickers of light glistening off the blood as it exited through the man’s back.

    After a moment that felt like an eternity, the elf turned his attention towards Gladel. When the elf wrenched his arm out of the guard, fear replaced shock and doused whatever thrill he had been anticipating.

    Unlike Moreck, Gladel had no shield, and the elf effortlessly ducked under his desperate swing and lunged at him with an outstretched arm. As the gauntleted hand grasped his face, a brilliant flash of light burned his eyes before he screamed out his last breath, cut short as the light burned through his head.

    The elf casually let the body drop to the frosted ground.

    “That makes twelve.”

-¤-

    The sounds of scattered fighting echoed through the chambers above the main expedition. Theria and Taeodor accompanied their employer along with some other dwarves as Norghrick explored the ruins.

    The dwarf was not joking when he recommending a full contingent of dwarves and mercenaries. They had already had to carve through countless apparitions in addition to the hordes of darkspawn they had encountered on the way down, but thankfully they had suffered few casualties thus far.

    The air smelled horrible, with nothing but ghosts and the soulless fiends having been this far down since the Dwarven Empire crumbled. Despite its neglect, the ruins were in superb condition and during the lulls in combat they had found numerous troves of ancient artifacts that would undoubtedly fetch a high price.

    Since entering the inner sanctum of the city, Norghrick had led them to and fro, working at puzzles and having them work heavy mechanisms. Even if the sporadic fighting and being so far beneath the surface, Theria was getting restless.

    “What are we looking for?” she asked, kicking a small pile of rocks.

    “I managed to find a map of the place,” Norghrick said with a proud grin. “Apparently there’s a chamber near the bottom that is heavily secured. The way things are laid out, I’m guessing it is a vault of some sort.”

    “Why are we going there?”

    The dwarf barked out a laugh. “Because why else would something be so well protected if it wasn’t valuable? What else would they hide here?”

    “I don’t know. Maybe some horrible abomination that could destroy all life.”

    “Hiding dangerous things is a top-dweller thing. We dwarves don’t like keeping nasties locked in our cities with us.”

    “You may have a point.”

    “Even so,” Taeodor said, “as profitable as this venture has been so far, why come all the way down here when there are several other thaigs that are ripe for the picking that are much closer and easier to reach?”

    The dwarf looked at the two elves. “Bhelen has been making numerous pushes into the Deep Roads; I wanted to get someplace he won’t be reaching for some time”

    “I’m surprised it is here to begin with; I did not think there were any thaigs this far below the surface.”

    “According to the Shaperate, no, but I heard some rumors of a thaig predating recorded dwarven history being discovered in the Free Marches, so I sent a couple of expeditions down here to take a look and they found this.”

    “Let’s get in and get out as soon as possible.” Theria said. “This place makes me shudder.”

    “I imagine it’s much better than being killed or made tranquil.”

    “True enough,” Theria replied.

    Theria had only narrowly escaped execution at the hands of the Templars. But unlike so many others, she did not want to join in the fighting that had broken out.

    To avoid being dragged into the conflict or to whatever dark hole the Templars could think of, she joined Norghrick’s expedition into the Deep Roads after coming across them along the road. After some initial apprehension, she quickly made herself useful by decimating groups of darkspawn with fireballs and lightning bolts, which had secured her place in the motley crew.

    Winding through a series of mazes, they finally came to a wall covered in ancient carvings and inscriptions. A dead end.

    “Here’s the door,” Norghrick declared.

    “I don’t see anything,” Taeodor said.

    “It was well concealed. Most likely to keep its contents hidden from anyone who would want to plunder it. It only opens with the proper key.”

    “Which you have, right?”

    “Of course,” the dwarf replied indignantly “I wouldn’t have dragged all of you down here if I didn’t have a sure way of paying you back.”

    Norghrick pulled out an amulet, adorned in fine jewels that shone with a brilliant blue, placing it in an engraving in the center of the wall. The inscriptions lit up, emitting a pulse of warmth.

    “Is it supposed to do that?”

    “I don’t understand this. Everything I had found on this indicated it that once it was finally in place the door would open.”

    “Let me try it,” said Theria pressing her hand on the amulet. The light from the amulet turned red and Theria yelped with pain as she felt something cut into her, but found that her hand was stuck. Seeing her panic, Taeodor futilely tried to pull Theria free.

    “We have trouble!” shouted Norghrick as a group of apparitions flooded into the hallway.

    Taeodor left Theria’s hand against the amulet and ran towards the approaching enemy forces with Norghrick’s bodyguards. Norghrick pulled out his bow and began knocking down his targets with flawless precision. Theria pointed her staff in the direction of the fighting, but with Taeodor and the others being close to the apparitions, she could not do much without hitting her allies.

    Feeling helpless, she redoubled her efforts at freeing her hand and pressed against the amulet. With a series of clicking, her hand was released and the doors began to open, air rushing through the cracks. She turned and sent a rock at their attackers, knocking causing some of them to disappear into wisps of dust.

    “Good job, Theria!” Taeodor shouted over the fighting.

    As more apparitions poured into the hallway, Norghrick ordered everyone into the chamber.

    “Hold them off while I figure out how to close the doors!” Norghrick shouted to the others.

    Theria cast a wave of fire, enveloping the entire hallway and buying them a brief respite.

    The locking mechanisms fell into place firmly, unseen by those on either side of the door. Theria gasped, sinking to her knees in partial relief. As for their fearless leader, he took a moment to bang his fist against the door.

    “Fine dwarven engineering,” he declared, as if he had designed and built the door himself.

    One of the mercenaries cursed loudly, pounding his fist against the door like his boss, only with far more desperation.

    “Calm down,” Norghrick bellowed. “At least they aren’t in here.”

    “But we’re stuck here as well,” the mercenary shouted. “Beneath even the Deep Roads and off the beaten path with no way out.”

    “And all of our supplies are out there with them,” Taeodor added.

     “The others will take care of our stuff. Besides, there has to be another way out. Start looking,” the dwarf replied, his attention drifting around the chamber, his anger and worry transforming into awe. “Incredible. This place is enormous.”

    “We could have fit our entire camp and expedition team inside three times over and still had room to spare, even if we didn’t bother with an orderly arrangement. And the ceiling…I can’t barely see it.”

    A warm glow from the lava cascading down into the pits below bathed the chamber in orange light. Being surrounded by the molten earth, it was a wonder the room was not like an oven.

    “There must be some barriers in place,” Theria concluded, dragging her fingers over the surface and peering into the abyss below the chamber.

    “So much empty space.” Taeodor said as he slung his sword back into its sling. “Theria, what happened to your hand?”

            Theria inspected the mark left by the lock. “Just a scratch.”

    Blood welled from the wound that the lock had left. As she wrapped her hand up, she wondered what a magically impaired people like the dwarves would have to do with blood magic. Or any sort of magic, for that matter.

    “Is that how we got in here?” he asked.

    She nodded, grimly.

    “Right. Come on. Let’s try to find a way out of here. This place smells worse than the alienage”

    While the rest of the expedition team had fanned out across the perimeter of the room, the two elves scoured the center of chamber, looking down the openings in the floor and avoiding the edges.

    At the center platform, a pedestal rose from the floor. The duo eased back with apprehension until Theria shook it off and approached it.

    The device was rather simple looking, shaped like a dome with glossy smooth edges and a dull grey color that seemed to shift as Theria reached for it.

    “Are you sure you want to touch that?” Taeodor asked. “Especially after having your hand frozen to the door?”

    She scrunched her face in thought, then answered. “If we stay here, we either starve or face the apparitions, or we fiddle with something and hope it gives us a way out of here.”

    “Sounds like a problem in the making.”

    “Look, if you manage to find some odd combination in the floor panels, give it a go. This is the only thing I can see around here that is neither walls nor molten rock.”

    Theria pressed her hand against the pedestal, which glowed as her blood made contact with its surface. A pulse of energy washed over the room, sporadic yelps of surprise marking those effected.

    At first there was only silence, then slowly, then the chamber began to shake around them.

    Sections of the center platform were lifted from their place by invisible forces, forming a ring that turned to the face the door. Spinning along the vertical axis, the structure gradually turned faster and faster.

    “Keep your guard up,” Norghrick warned.

    Energy collected in the center of the ring and the air whipped around the room like a tempest around it. Then suddenly, the energy compressed and exploded within the confines of the ring, emitting a shockwave that sent everyone flying into the barrier.

    As the dust settled, Theria looked around. All around her, people groaned in pain from the jostling they endured, some rising to their feet faster than others.

    A lone figure was crouched at the center of the chamber, an elf with shriveled and cracked skin and a cloud of frost wafting from his body, for a moment dropping the temperature of the room by a noticeable degree. Some tattered, pitch black robes hung around his waist, held up by the belt, and a mass of hair grey hair reached down and sat in a heap at his feet. Likewise, his fingernails scraped along the floor as he heaved.

    Standing to his feet with a series of loud popping, the elf began loosening his joints, cracking like rusted hinges as his deathly pale skin warmed and rejuvenated, repairing the cracks and becoming more lifelike. His hair darkened to match the color of his clothes, thickening immensely in the process.

    His eyes snapped open, glowing red as he surveyed the scattered explorers as they slowly rose to their feet, narrowing with disappointment and boredom as he took in the sight. He looked down at his hair and nails. As if willed to do so, his nails snapped off at his fingertips, allowing him to gather his hair in one hand and slice the excess with the edge of his hand, still leaving it to reach his ankles.

    Instincts taking over, one of the mercenaries, a Vashoth, charged at the elf, swinging his greatsword with a loud battle-cry. The closer he got to his target, the clearer the difference in height became apparent.

    Standing more than a head taller than horned being, the elf grabbed him and ripped the sword from the mercenary’s hands, shattering bones, then clamping a hand over his mouth to silence the screams.

    Glaring at the smaller humanoid as he hoisted him above his head with one hand, the elf ran the grey-skinned warrior with his own blade and slung him off onto the floor.

    The rest of the mercenaries sprung to action and charged, hoping to overwhelm the elf with numbers.

    Barely stepping forward, the elf slashed the first mercenary, rending him open with a single swing, leaping into the center of the shoddy formation and proceeding to methodically cut them down.

    Supporting her allies, Theria launched a salvo of fireballs at the large elf, the first of which were blocked by the body of one of the deceased mercenaries, while the rest harmlessly impacted the elf’s skin, drawing his gaze to her. An idle wave of his hand, and Theria was held fast.

    “Someone put him down!” Norghrick

    The archers loosed a volley of arrows, covering Taeodor and the other members of the party that were still recovering.

    Grabbing another sword, the elf twirled around in his hand and threw it like a javelin, pinning Norghrick to the wall. He held his hand up towards the expedition team, sparks erupting from palm, striking the ranged fighters down in quick succession.

            Taeodor grabbed his sword and got to his feet. The remaining members of the expedition team joined him, facing the elf as he strode towards them. “Come on,” he grunted. “We aren’t finished yet.”

    With a loud cry, they charged at him. At the lead, Taeodor found himself being thrown against the wall next to a paralyzed Theria. Both helplessly watched as the others were slaughter before their eyes. The screams of pain barely covered the sound of snapping bones and singing metal as the mercenaries were brutally crushed.

    When the last cry died out, drenched in blood, the elf walked up to the lone survivors. He reached out to them, and Theria and Taeodor found themselves suspended, struggling against his arcane grip as they were forced to meet his gaze.

    “Thank you for your assistance, child,” he said with a low voice, though other tones whispered, as if at a distance. “I was wondering if anyone would ever open the door again.” With his free hand, he reached towards Taeodor. “Thousands of years pass and look at how you have been brought down to such pitiful shadows of your former selves. Even so, I still have a use for both of you.”

    He grabbed Taeodor’s head, his hand covering his face. “I have slumbered for a long time. Let us see what I have missed.”

    Taeodor yelled out in pain as the air warped around his entire being. Theria closed her eyes tightly, trying to shut out his screams of agony. When the screams stopped, she forced herself to look, watching as Taeodor’s lifeless body was tossed away like a broken toy.

    The elf turned, extending his hand to her. “Your turn.”

Description

“Since the beginning of time, history has been full of things beyond our comprehension. So very often, we used parables and legends to explain what we could not understand, and to hide that which we would rather forget. We spend so much time, living in our illusions, believing our own lies, that we are unprepared for when reality knocks on our door.”

    -- Sathera



    Light.

    How long had it been since he had even dreamed of such a thing. Ages? Eons? Such trivial things were not supposed to exist in the realm of nothingness. Yet time still marched on, coursing in a manner beyond reality, wearing against his consciousness to intimately remind him of every passing moment.

    And there it hung, a sliver of existence lost in the seas of nothingness. It was but a simple pinpoint floating in the distance, but the infinite void of black made such a simple thing a blinding beacon. A hole in the physical world had been opened.

    Reaching out, he called upon his reserve of energy. Even weakened, gathering energy in the void was still possible, even if only in just miniscule amounts, and he had been gathering for a long time.

    Grasping the thread of light, he pulled himself through.

-¤-

The 9th of Umbralis, 9:37 Dragon

    Elione watched as her commander stood at the overlook of their outpost, eyes searching the valley for any intruders. The winds tugged at his green-grey cloak.

    Plenty of hunter teams had stayed at the lookout over the years, but Marscius was as constant as the mountains themselves. No one remembered the time he had first taken watch, but no one would be surprised if he had a name for every stone on the mountain and in the valley below.

    Clouds billowed and swelled as the tumbled across the sky. A stormy season for the Free Marches.

    No, Elione thought. This is no ordinary storm.

    Sitting across from her, Gildart, the team's mage, was practically buzzing with excitement. A wind was blowing across the Fade and through the Veil, heralding a major shift in the realm of Spirits.

    The senior hunter's pointed ears twitched. "Could it...?” He whispered to himself.

    Gildart grinned madly, tapping his feet against the stone floor. Everyone else could feel a sense of what he was experiencing. The storm swirled around overhead, lightning flashing across the skies in wild, constant display. Thunder rumbled in the heavens and the earth quivered beneath their feet.

    As quickly as it had come, the storm quieted down, easing over the landscape.

    "It is time." Marscius declared.

    Pulling out a mirror, the senior hunter dropped it on the ground.

    "Take us home." he ordered. His stony expression could not hide his elation.

    The rest circled around Glidart as he gathered the necessary energies to complete his task. Sweat trickled from his forehead in spite of the cooled mountain air. With an arcane pulse, the mirror glowed at his touch.

    Nodding to his compatriots, one by one, they stepped into the mirror. Glancing back at the outpost that had long been his home, Marscius followed. With one last pulse, Gildart brought up the rear, leaving the mirror to disintegrate behind him.

-¤-

    Rain fell gently outside the Circle of Cumberland, a damp winter for Nevarra. In the dorms, the mages milled quietly in a darkened room,

    Mariannae had packed her meager possessions into a bag, glancing over her shoulder nervously as she sat on her bed, waiting for the signal from her peers. Even with the distractions their jail keepers had been dealing with, she still expected them to come bursting through the doors at any moment.

    The wait was agonizing, but they only had one chance at pulling off an escape. Slinging her bag across her back, she donned a cloak and wrapped her scarf around her neck. She could hardly believe how things were progressing, but there was no doubting her master’s words.

    After the incident at Kirkwall, all of Thedas in an uproar, none more so than the Templar Order. The Chantry’s grip on the Circles grew tighter with every passing day, threatening to strangle them all. There had been talks, of course. The Chantry proper had seen to that, but with the carnage wrought by Mage terrorists, the fanatics were baying for blood.

            “We leave tonight.” Those words were whispered to her in passing. Long enough a sentence to convey a message, short enough that an idle Templar would not notice. Mere caution would not be enough with their wardens on edge as they were.

            Some of the younger mages were gathered around her feet, children whose magical talent had been recently discovered, now waiting for the moment that would decide their fate.

            What felt like a pulse reverberated through the building. Those that she could see in the dark stood up straight, eyeing the corners of the room. By all impressions, it had not been a part of the plan, carrying an otherworldly sense, an empty howling of the void.

            Then shouts erupted downstairs.

            “It’s time.” Lora said. The older enchanter took her staff in hand and walked to the door. Mariannae gathered the children assigned to her and followed, falling in with the rest. The door opened with a slight creak.

            The Templars had already thinned out their patrols to deal with the uprising in other parts of the Circle. The vaulted ceiling carried the sounds of battle that led them to the fighting. But there were still some that remain.

            One turned to them, drawing his sword and raising his shield, ready to put down any resistance. “Return to your quar-!”

            He was cut off by a sword to the back. Mariannae sighed in relief. Few in number as they were, the mages of Thedas still had sympathizers, those who were not eager to condemn every mage of every Circle for what had happened in Kirkwall. The Templar named Ciran nodded to their group and scampered ahead to scout for more of his brethren.

            The other groups were doing their job well in keeping the Templars from noticing their escape, though Mariannae wondered how many were perishing to give them that time. She shook her head and focused on moving herself forward.

    This is what war is like. We all knew this would happen.

            Escape was paramount. It would be up to them to keep the cause alive.

-¤-

            Braden rolled himself out of bed, grateful that none of the servants were present to see a Magister act in such an unsightly fashion. His black hair was a mess and when looked at the mirror, he could see an ample amount of crust built up around his brown eyes.

            He had a vague recollection of a meeting he was supposed to attend today.

            A knock at the door drew him from his contemplations. “Master?” a skittish voice called from behind the door. Braden recognized the voice as belonging to Meline.

            “What is it?” he answered.

            “You told me to wake you before-”

            “So I did.” Braden interrupted with a sudden surge of energy, throwing on a robe. When he opened his bedroom door, the young girl slammed against the wall and bowed at her master’s passing. He did not understand why she acted like that, save for that her previous master was somewhat abusive. Rubbing his eyes, he turned to the girl. “Did anyone send for me yet?”

            Meline vigorously shook her head.

            “Where is Dalos?”

            “Present as ever, my lord.” Dalos replied, striding down the hall.

            Braden turned to face his attendant. “Excellent! Meline, you may leave.”

            The girl bowed and scampered off.

    Once they were alone, Braden went to business. “Any news or missives?”

            “Just one.” He replied, pulling a piece of paper from the inside of his clothes. “It was hand delivered last night. I have no idea how it made it into my quarters.”

            The magister snatched the paper from Dalos’ hand.

            “My lord, I feel it my duty to-.” He hushed when Braden raised a hand. “Of course, my lord.”

            “This is a dangerous game I’m playing, but one that I know quite well. Now let me see what this contact has to say.”

            While reading through the letter, the sensation of a wave passed over him. It felt like he was reinvigorated by it, the weariness of the political games of Tevinter dissipating. He could not help but grin.

    “It’s time.”

-¤-

            Flemeth approached one of her old habitats. The structure had long since been weathered down to a mound of trash, but it was not the structure itself that interested her.

            Skirting along the edge of the clearing, she found a certain rock amidst the trees that had served as a marker for this site, and remarkably had not been knocked over or carried away in the intervening years. A simple spell had made sure of that.

            She pressed her hand against the rock and the ground surrounding the tree sank into a stair case that led to the ground below. The cavern contained a number of items that she had preserved of the years, but she had come for one in particular. The sarcophagus at end of the chamber.

            As she walked towards it, she felt a pulse hit her. A sense of panic washed over her, which she quickly shoved aside as she went about her task.

            Time was already running out.

The 11th of Verimensis, 9:38 Dragon

    “Are you sure that stuff was still good, Gladel?”

    “Are ya sure you’re not a moron, Moreck? We’ve enough problems with the last time the captain caught us drunk. Dun let him do it again.”

    “But my tummy feels odd.”

    “Quit your gripin’ and keep yer eyes open. We’re on patrol, remember?”

    “Who’s gonna be out here with it so cold?”

    “Who knows? Just shut yer trap.”

    Late night patrols were bad any day, but it was far worse in the winter. The cold winds swept down the mountain and blew through the city relentlessly. Gladel had often wondered what it was like for those in the mountains.

    Bet they have plenty of warm furs and fires to keep them warm, he thought. And not having to do patrol duty at night for a whole week.

    His companion slapped him on the shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts.

    ”Look over there,” Moreck said.

    The light caught the silhouette enough to show his pointed ears. Gladel looked at his partner. “Let’s have us some fun, eh?”

    The two approached the elf, who did not seem to notice.

    “Oy! What’re y’doing out at night, knife ear?” Moreck called out.

    “Just enjoying the city at night,” the elf replied, not even turning to face them.

    “Really?” Gladel said with amusement as both guards drew their swords and approached the elf. “Y’shoulda stayed ‘n the Alienage.”

    Moreck swung first. As his sword moved through the air, the elf did not move at first, waiting until the last possible moment before raising his gauntleted hand to catch the blade. With his other hand he knocked his shield away. With his challenger’s defense broken, the elf thrust his flattened hand into the guard’s abdomen, with flickers of light glistening off the blood as it exited through the man’s back.

    After a moment that felt like an eternity, the elf turned his attention towards Gladel. When the elf wrenched his arm out of the guard, fear replaced shock and doused whatever thrill he had been anticipating.

    Unlike Moreck, Gladel had no shield, and the elf effortlessly ducked under his desperate swing and lunged at him with an outstretched arm. As the gauntleted hand grasped his face, a brilliant flash of light burned his eyes before he screamed out his last breath, cut short as the light burned through his head.

    The elf casually let the body drop to the frosted ground.

    “That makes twelve.”

-¤-

    The sounds of scattered fighting echoed through the chambers above the main expedition. Theria and Taeodor accompanied their employer along with some other dwarves as Norghrick explored the ruins.

    The dwarf was not joking when he recommending a full contingent of dwarves and mercenaries. They had already had to carve through countless apparitions in addition to the hordes of darkspawn they had encountered on the way down, but thankfully they had suffered few casualties thus far.

    The air smelled horrible, with nothing but ghosts and the soulless fiends having been this far down since the Dwarven Empire crumbled. Despite its neglect, the ruins were in superb condition and during the lulls in combat they had found numerous troves of ancient artifacts that would undoubtedly fetch a high price.

    Since entering the inner sanctum of the city, Norghrick had led them to and fro, working at puzzles and having them work heavy mechanisms. Even if the sporadic fighting and being so far beneath the surface, Theria was getting restless.

    “What are we looking for?” she asked, kicking a small pile of rocks.

    “I managed to find a map of the place,” Norghrick said with a proud grin. “Apparently there’s a chamber near the bottom that is heavily secured. The way things are laid out, I’m guessing it is a vault of some sort.”

    “Why are we going there?”

    The dwarf barked out a laugh. “Because why else would something be so well protected if it wasn’t valuable? What else would they hide here?”

    “I don’t know. Maybe some horrible abomination that could destroy all life.”

    “Hiding dangerous things is a top-dweller thing. We dwarves don’t like keeping nasties locked in our cities with us.”

    “You may have a point.”

    “Even so,” Taeodor said, “as profitable as this venture has been so far, why come all the way down here when there are several other thaigs that are ripe for the picking that are much closer and easier to reach?”

    The dwarf looked at the two elves. “Bhelen has been making numerous pushes into the Deep Roads; I wanted to get someplace he won’t be reaching for some time”

    “I’m surprised it is here to begin with; I did not think there were any thaigs this far below the surface.”

    “According to the Shaperate, no, but I heard some rumors of a thaig predating recorded dwarven history being discovered in the Free Marches, so I sent a couple of expeditions down here to take a look and they found this.”

    “Let’s get in and get out as soon as possible.” Theria said. “This place makes me shudder.”

    “I imagine it’s much better than being killed or made tranquil.”

    “True enough,” Theria replied.

    Theria had only narrowly escaped execution at the hands of the Templars. But unlike so many others, she did not want to join in the fighting that had broken out.

    To avoid being dragged into the conflict or to whatever dark hole the Templars could think of, she joined Norghrick’s expedition into the Deep Roads after coming across them along the road. After some initial apprehension, she quickly made herself useful by decimating groups of darkspawn with fireballs and lightning bolts, which had secured her place in the motley crew.

    Winding through a series of mazes, they finally came to a wall covered in ancient carvings and inscriptions. A dead end.

    “Here’s the door,” Norghrick declared.

    “I don’t see anything,” Taeodor said.

    “It was well concealed. Most likely to keep its contents hidden from anyone who would want to plunder it. It only opens with the proper key.”

    “Which you have, right?”

    “Of course,” the dwarf replied indignantly “I wouldn’t have dragged all of you down here if I didn’t have a sure way of paying you back.”

    Norghrick pulled out an amulet, adorned in fine jewels that shone with a brilliant blue, placing it in an engraving in the center of the wall. The inscriptions lit up, emitting a pulse of warmth.

    “Is it supposed to do that?”

    “I don’t understand this. Everything I had found on this indicated it that once it was finally in place the door would open.”

    “Let me try it,” said Theria pressing her hand on the amulet. The light from the amulet turned red and Theria yelped with pain as she felt something cut into her, but found that her hand was stuck. Seeing her panic, Taeodor futilely tried to pull Theria free.

    “We have trouble!” shouted Norghrick as a group of apparitions flooded into the hallway.

    Taeodor left Theria’s hand against the amulet and ran towards the approaching enemy forces with Norghrick’s bodyguards. Norghrick pulled out his bow and began knocking down his targets with flawless precision. Theria pointed her staff in the direction of the fighting, but with Taeodor and the others being close to the apparitions, she could not do much without hitting her allies.

    Feeling helpless, she redoubled her efforts at freeing her hand and pressed against the amulet. With a series of clicking, her hand was released and the doors began to open, air rushing through the cracks. She turned and sent a rock at their attackers, knocking causing some of them to disappear into wisps of dust.

    “Good job, Theria!” Taeodor shouted over the fighting.

    As more apparitions poured into the hallway, Norghrick ordered everyone into the chamber.

    “Hold them off while I figure out how to close the doors!” Norghrick shouted to the others.

    Theria cast a wave of fire, enveloping the entire hallway and buying them a brief respite.

    The locking mechanisms fell into place firmly, unseen by those on either side of the door. Theria gasped, sinking to her knees in partial relief. As for their fearless leader, he took a moment to bang his fist against the door.

    “Fine dwarven engineering,” he declared, as if he had designed and built the door himself.

    One of the mercenaries cursed loudly, pounding his fist against the door like his boss, only with far more desperation.

    “Calm down,” Norghrick bellowed. “At least they aren’t in here.”

    “But we’re stuck here as well,” the mercenary shouted. “Beneath even the Deep Roads and off the beaten path with no way out.”

    “And all of our supplies are out there with them,” Taeodor added.

     “The others will take care of our stuff. Besides, there has to be another way out. Start looking,” the dwarf replied, his attention drifting around the chamber, his anger and worry transforming into awe. “Incredible. This place is enormous.”

    “We could have fit our entire camp and expedition team inside three times over and still had room to spare, even if we didn’t bother with an orderly arrangement. And the ceiling…I can’t barely see it.”

    A warm glow from the lava cascading down into the pits below bathed the chamber in orange light. Being surrounded by the molten earth, it was a wonder the room was not like an oven.

    “There must be some barriers in place,” Theria concluded, dragging her fingers over the surface and peering into the abyss below the chamber.

    “So much empty space.” Taeodor said as he slung his sword back into its sling. “Theria, what happened to your hand?”

            Theria inspected the mark left by the lock. “Just a scratch.”

    Blood welled from the wound that the lock had left. As she wrapped her hand up, she wondered what a magically impaired people like the dwarves would have to do with blood magic. Or any sort of magic, for that matter.

    “Is that how we got in here?” he asked.

    She nodded, grimly.

    “Right. Come on. Let’s try to find a way out of here. This place smells worse than the alienage”

    While the rest of the expedition team had fanned out across the perimeter of the room, the two elves scoured the center of chamber, looking down the openings in the floor and avoiding the edges.

    At the center platform, a pedestal rose from the floor. The duo eased back with apprehension until Theria shook it off and approached it.

    The device was rather simple looking, shaped like a dome with glossy smooth edges and a dull grey color that seemed to shift as Theria reached for it.

    “Are you sure you want to touch that?” Taeodor asked. “Especially after having your hand frozen to the door?”

    She scrunched her face in thought, then answered. “If we stay here, we either starve or face the apparitions, or we fiddle with something and hope it gives us a way out of here.”

    “Sounds like a problem in the making.”

    “Look, if you manage to find some odd combination in the floor panels, give it a go. This is the only thing I can see around here that is neither walls nor molten rock.”

    Theria pressed her hand against the pedestal, which glowed as her blood made contact with its surface. A pulse of energy washed over the room, sporadic yelps of surprise marking those effected.

    At first there was only silence, then slowly, then the chamber began to shake around them.

    Sections of the center platform were lifted from their place by invisible forces, forming a ring that turned to the face the door. Spinning along the vertical axis, the structure gradually turned faster and faster.

    “Keep your guard up,” Norghrick warned.

    Energy collected in the center of the ring and the air whipped around the room like a tempest around it. Then suddenly, the energy compressed and exploded within the confines of the ring, emitting a shockwave that sent everyone flying into the barrier.

    As the dust settled, Theria looked around. All around her, people groaned in pain from the jostling they endured, some rising to their feet faster than others.

    A lone figure was crouched at the center of the chamber, an elf with shriveled and cracked skin and a cloud of frost wafting from his body, for a moment dropping the temperature of the room by a noticeable degree. Some tattered, pitch black robes hung around his waist, held up by the belt, and a mass of hair grey hair reached down and sat in a heap at his feet. Likewise, his fingernails scraped along the floor as he heaved.

    Standing to his feet with a series of loud popping, the elf began loosening his joints, cracking like rusted hinges as his deathly pale skin warmed and rejuvenated, repairing the cracks and becoming more lifelike. His hair darkened to match the color of his clothes, thickening immensely in the process.

    His eyes snapped open, glowing red as he surveyed the scattered explorers as they slowly rose to their feet, narrowing with disappointment and boredom as he took in the sight. He looked down at his hair and nails. As if willed to do so, his nails snapped off at his fingertips, allowing him to gather his hair in one hand and slice the excess with the edge of his hand, still leaving it to reach his ankles.

    Instincts taking over, one of the mercenaries, a Vashoth, charged at the elf, swinging his greatsword with a loud battle-cry. The closer he got to his target, the clearer the difference in height became apparent.

    Standing more than a head taller than horned being, the elf grabbed him and ripped the sword from the mercenary’s hands, shattering bones, then clamping a hand over his mouth to silence the screams.

    Glaring at the smaller humanoid as he hoisted him above his head with one hand, the elf ran the grey-skinned warrior with his own blade and slung him off onto the floor.

    The rest of the mercenaries sprung to action and charged, hoping to overwhelm the elf with numbers.

    Barely stepping forward, the elf slashed the first mercenary, rending him open with a single swing, leaping into the center of the shoddy formation and proceeding to methodically cut them down.

    Supporting her allies, Theria launched a salvo of fireballs at the large elf, the first of which were blocked by the body of one of the deceased mercenaries, while the rest harmlessly impacted the elf’s skin, drawing his gaze to her. An idle wave of his hand, and Theria was held fast.

    “Someone put him down!” Norghrick

    The archers loosed a volley of arrows, covering Taeodor and the other members of the party that were still recovering.

    Grabbing another sword, the elf twirled around in his hand and threw it like a javelin, pinning Norghrick to the wall. He held his hand up towards the expedition team, sparks erupting from palm, striking the ranged fighters down in quick succession.

            Taeodor grabbed his sword and got to his feet. The remaining members of the expedition team joined him, facing the elf as he strode towards them. “Come on,” he grunted. “We aren’t finished yet.”

    With a loud cry, they charged at him. At the lead, Taeodor found himself being thrown against the wall next to a paralyzed Theria. Both helplessly watched as the others were slaughter before their eyes. The screams of pain barely covered the sound of snapping bones and singing metal as the mercenaries were brutally crushed.

    When the last cry died out, drenched in blood, the elf walked up to the lone survivors. He reached out to them, and Theria and Taeodor found themselves suspended, struggling against his arcane grip as they were forced to meet his gaze.

    “Thank you for your assistance, child,” he said with a low voice, though other tones whispered, as if at a distance. “I was wondering if anyone would ever open the door again.” With his free hand, he reached towards Taeodor. “Thousands of years pass and look at how you have been brought down to such pitiful shadows of your former selves. Even so, I still have a use for both of you.”

    He grabbed Taeodor’s head, his hand covering his face. “I have slumbered for a long time. Let us see what I have missed.”

    Taeodor yelled out in pain as the air warped around his entire being. Theria closed her eyes tightly, trying to shut out his screams of agony. When the screams stopped, she forced herself to look, watching as Taeodor’s lifeless body was tossed away like a broken toy.

    The elf turned, extending his hand to her. “Your turn.”