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When push came to shove, Cadash wasn't the sort of person to really question his place in the world. It came with being raised Castless and as a Surfacer, he guessed; when your world was based on defined roles and you were branded as a criminal before you could even really walk, life tended to be pretty damn cut and dry.
It was like playing a game of Wicked Grace, really. You just had to play with the hand you were dealt and then try to make the best out of it, and so far he'd done a pretty damn good job.
Or at least he had been, until the universe decided to deal him the lousiest sodding hand of his entire pathetic existence.
He could deal with weird Fade shit and with ancient Magisters ripping open the sky. Hell, he could even deal with the Orlesians and their Stone forsaken masks, their toxic party nugshit that was still less cloak and dagger than Orzammar, and their petty human pretension.
Cadash was resourceful and clever, his wit as sharp as the daggers he sheathed at his sides and inevitably just as deadly. Having a mark on his left hand had thrown him for a loop and left him disoriented, especially because he found himself jilted into a world of dreams and magic and elves, but he'd come out whole.
Or he had been whole, until suddenly he wasn't.
He struggled through the snow, wrapped in the thick furs that his fame as the Inquisitor had purchased him, his head strangely empty now that the omnipresent buzzing of the Anchor was gone. Everything felt lighter, but not in a good way. It felt lighter like he'd had more than a literal chunk taken out of him, like everything had shifted and changed back into something more solid in the absence of the magic that he had grown used to singing through his blood.
He never thought he'd miss it, but then again... Well.
There were some things you didn't realize you would miss until they were gone.
Snow crunched underneath his boots, and the smell of pine was overwhelming and almost nostalgic, but if there was magic here, Cadash sure as hell couldn't feel it any longer. He couldn't even really feel the Stone, either, but then again maybe he wasn't good enough for a Titan anymore, if he ever was in the first place.
Everything about this entire thing sent his head spinning. As stupid as it was, everything had been simpler when it was just evil undead Tevinter Magisters corrupted with the Blight than it was now, but maybe he had been stupid to ever expect simple. This wasn't the Carta, where even the backstabbers were honest about what they wanted and a Duster was a Duster was a Duster, no matter if you slapped the Sword of Mercy on all his armor and granted him a ceremonial blade to hoist at important meetings.
"Sodding Elves and their sodding drama and their Stone forsaken magic." Cadash's voice fell flat against the snow, a throaty grumble that welled up from his chest as his eyebrows knit together and he struggled his way up a slope. "Varric is right. They never fucking talk to anyone."
With a sudden surge of aggressive energy, Cadash pushed his way up the slope, plowing through a snow drift and landing flat on his face as he cleared the crest of a hill. He rolled onto his back and for a moment he laid there, letting the snow soak his clothing uncertain if he even had the strength, or the balance, to push himself to his feet anymore. Reaching across his chest, he grasped the stump of his arm and let the tears sting his eyes, freezing on his cheeks as he stared up at the cloudless blue sky.
"Sodding Elves," he said again, but the words felt hallow, even to him.
For a moment longer he laid leaden in the snow before he rolled back onto his stomach and slowly, carefully, pushed himself to his feet. The hallow feeling came back to him, but he fought it off this time and grit his teeth, refusing to succumb to his own weakness.
He'd come out on top every other time he'd been dealt a bad hand by Lady Fate in his life, and that wasn't about to change just because of some stupid Elf and his stupid, world shattering secrets. So what if someone was trying to destroy the world? It wasn't the first time he'd saved the world from someone who wanted to erase it and replace it with their own vision.
He hoped it was the last, and if it wasn't... Well, then maybe Thedas as it was actually deserved to be erased from existence.
Quietly Cadash made his way through the snow, shivering against the cold as the winds picked up and battered him. The sky above darkened and then brightened until the entire world was blindingly white, snow falling about him as he crunched up the hill and finally came to rest on the edge of a ruin. The remnants of the great, dark stone stood like giants against the sky, and Cadash couldn't help but remember the few times he'd visited Orzammar to see the statues of the Paragons towering high above the magma and the halls cut from the heart of the mountain itself.
He'd seen things more magnificent than those halls, and Orzammar had never quite felt like home to him, but there was still something to be said about things built from stone and pieced together with the power of sweat and determination. Cadash had felt the same way when he'd seen Skyhold for the first time, but now he wondered if that wasn't for a different reason.
Slowly, he lowered himself to sit on a stone, tucking his legs underneath himself and staring up at the sky. Through the clouds, he caught the glimmer of the scar across the heavens, shimmering green, violet and blue. Snowflakes fell upon his dark beard and eyebrows, dotting them like constellations, and he blinked his eyes, exhaling into the cold air to watch his breath drift toward the sky and then disappear.
He sat there for a long moment, looking at the scar and remembering the time a friend had told him that he was an expert on handling magical surprises but not Orlesian fashion. At the time it had seemed like a bit of a joke, really. The world was raw and frantic, and Cadash was standing at the center of its storm, still on a high from his victory over an evil time traveling Tevinter Magister.
He'd relied on that friend until the bitter end, trusting his arcane expertise through every possible challenge, be it Darkspawn Magisters, Demon Armies, or ancient Embodiments of Fear. Cadash had come to place his absolute faith in that friend, faith in his knowledge and his discernment, only to have that friend rip the seed of magic from him and leave him feeling lighter and more of a freak than he had ever been.
Cadash had always been a Dwarf in a Human's world struggling to still be a Dwarf, and now he was a Dwarf who had touched the very soul of something he was never supposed to have seen only to find himself armless and worn down to dust in the aftermath.
Some savior he was.
He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn't hear the sound of footsteps through the snow until a shadow loomed over him. Cadash could hear the sound of her breathing and recognized her, the heavy presence at his back, like the ground beneath his feet. She made everything feel smaller and safer, and right now underneath a sky so large it threatened to engulf him, he really needed the comfort.
"I had worried when I woke up this morning and noticed you were gone." Her voice was deep and melodious, and reminded him so much of the way water sounded bubbling over rocks; he closed his eyes and let it wash over him."It is impressive that you woke before me and makes me wonder if you slept at all."
"Sorry, salroka," he said, turning his head to look up at her, statuesque even in the snow. "I haven't been sleeping well, so I got up and went for a walk."
She didn't look amused, narrowing her eyes at him even as concerned sparked in them, warm like amber. Slowly, she lowered herself to sit beside him and heaved out a sigh, lacing her hands together in her lap and staring up at the sky with him. They sat that way for a long moment and Cadash could only presume she was looking for the words that she wanted to say.
He really and truly admired her ability to speak from the heart, because what she lacked in eloquence she always made up for in sincerity. In a way, it was a trait he envied. He could haggle the price of lyirum up or down as he pleased for the benefit of his organization, but sometimes, when it came to meaning things, his words fell flat.
Cassandra was so earnest and it made her more precious than all the sovereigns he'd ever earned smuggling lyrium. People like her were more rare than diamonds and dragon scales.
"It is quite a walk to take you all the way out here." Cassandra muttered, bowing her head and staring at the toes of her heavy black boots. "Listen... I... I know that you have had a lot on your mind recently. I also realize that I am not the best person to confide in when it comes to situations like these, but if you need someone, you must know that I am here."
He felt her hand fall heavy upon his leg, making warmth spread through him. His mind strayed to vivid images of her spread out below him on a blanket, smiling up at him, playful and free. He'd never seen anything more beautiful, but right now that sort of beauty felt almost beyond his grasp, like he couldn't really do anything except stare at those memories from far away, like he'd never feel that free again.
Again, he rubbed his arm, and again he felt lighter, emptier, like he would float away without the Anchor, like her hand was the only thing keeping him tethered to his body.
"Do you ever feel like you were born as the wrong person?" Cadash asked. "Or maybe that you were the wrong person for a job and that Lady Luck made a huge mistake when she dealt you into a Wicked Grace game where Thedas is the prize?"
"I cannot say that I have." He could see Cassandra hesitate, but she didn't withdraw her hand. "But I can see how you would feel that way, and I want to help."
Slowly, Cadash reached out and grabbed her fingers with his only remaining hand. Her eyebrows knit together in concern when she felt how cold he was, but the look was quickly chased away by a soft smile (the sort reserved only for him) when he squeezed her fingers reassuringly. "People like you and me, Cass, we're made of sturdy stone. But what if someone took that stone and infused it with a piece of the sky, so that for one blinding moment it thought it was a cloud?"
"You're talking about the Mark."
Cadash noticed that it wasn't a question, but she always was more observant than she gave herself credit for, just maybe not in the ways other people wanted her to be. It was a shame that she let that affect the way she saw herself, but with time... Well, things could change a lot in two years.
"I'm a rock again, Cass, and I don't know how to deal with it. I've fallen back to earth because the sky took the piece of itself back because being a cloud was killing me." He heaved a sigh and felt her grip on his hand tighten almost imperceptibly, drawing the cold from him to replace it with her strength. "But I can't just be a rock again. Being a cloud changed the way I see everything, even myself. I saw the whole world instead of just the trees and the grass, and I realized that I could be more, but I might never be more again."
Understanding seemed to flicker across her face, and she leaned into him, releasing his hand only to wrap him in her arms. For a moment they were still and Cadash listened to the sound of her heartbeat thumping in her chest. He recalled the heartbeat of the Titan, and remembered how the song he'd felt for only an instant had felt like the Anchor making magic sing through his veins.
"I remember when the Spirit of Faith touched my mind. I haven't been the same from that moment onward. The entire world changes and you see it in a different way, and then you must go back to being yourself and act as if you have not been touched by something that has changed the very nature of your being."
She rarely spoke about the ritual, especially after they had discovered what had happened to the Lord Seeker and to his organization. He had tried to help her rebuild them these last two years, but he didn't really know much about the Chantry, or at least he hadn't. Living and working with Cassandra had taught him a lot about the nature of faith and The Chant.
It meant a lot to him to hear her talk about it now, and felt it was a testament to the relationship they had built together. She trusted him with this part of herself, and he could trust her with his doubts in return, let her be his sounding board and his rock. He owed her that trust after everything they had been through together.
So Cadash didn't pull away and leaned into her touch, closing his eyes and letting her words wash over him again. They sunk into him and he sighed, relaxing into her touch while he searched for a response.
"It's a bit like that." Cadash agreed. "Except you can still dream, Cassandra. There's still a spark of the sky inside of you."
"Do you miss it that much?"
He had to think about it. Did he miss it? Really miss it? Or was it something else that felt wrong inside of him? He didn't know if he missed it or if it had just changed in so much that he couldn't function anymore, at least not in the way he used to.
It was like learning to walk again after being on bed rest long enough that your muscles started to atrophy. He had to learn to be himself all over again, and he wasn't even certain he knew who "he" was any longer.
"Let's go back to camp, Cassandra," Cadash muttered. "We shouldn't have this discussion here. Besides, I'm soaked." He grinned at her and winked. "You might want to get me out of these clothes."
She groaned, but there was warmth in her eyes enough for him to forget his burdened thoughts for the time being.
--
Haven was much less worse for the wear now that they'd managed to clear it of the snow that had buried it for nearly two years. It was odd how much less damage there was than one might think, and rebuilding and repairing had gone fairly smoothly. It was probably the only thing that had actually gone smoothly in the last months at all, actually. There had been a lot of convincing and explaining to do, and even though Cassandra and Divine Victoria always supported him without question, well... It had been a bit more difficult with some of the others.
Still, it was comfortable here, with the remnants of what had once stood as the Inquisition. He was grateful to King Alistair for allowing them to stay now that everything had been squared away. As long as the group on their borders was not a full scale organization, the Fereldan government had no problem allowing him and his people to stay and work so near to their little nation.
Haven wasn't Skyhold, but it was better than being out on their sodding asses with nowhere to go. And, hey, it was enough to accommodate his forces now that they consisted of a few of his most loyal agents, some of Divine Victoria's contacts, and friends from the Carta who had fled and followed him to the Inquisition and were unable to go back to their old lives.
He and Cassandra arrived quietly, ducking underneath the arches and slipping into the rooms that he now called his own in the Chantry. Cassandra had insisted he stay there because the location was the "most fortified" in all of Haven, but really Cadash wasn't expecting any giant wolves to spring out of the snow or fall from the sky to devastate their forces with the help of an army of Elves.
If the Dread Wolf came, he would come in person and on foot and would be able to massacre the entire village in an instant with a flash of his eyes and a nod of his head. There would be no stopping him, because he would be unassuming and as silent as death, just like he always had been.
But he wouldn't come because the Dread Wolf didn't want to kill them, so hiding their location and protecting their borders from potential agents was pointless. In the end, the only thing all these precautions were was a comfort, and if Cadash could comfort his people, he would do so. If he had learned anything from being the Inquisitor, it was that terrified troops didn't do anyone any good.
Inside the Chantry it was warm, and Cassandra had seen to it that someone had a blazing fire going in their room's hearth. His stomach rumbled, almost echoing off the stone, but Cadash wasn't embarrassed. He had grown up starving, so being hungry wasn't something that he was really particularly ashamed of.
Still, Cassandra gave him a withering look and then turned to leave the room, probably to search for a druffalo steak or something. She took embarrassingly good care of him, sometimes. Whatever she thought about her being a woman of the blade making her less feminine somehow, she was ten times better than any Deshyr's wet dream of a perfect submissive Dwarven housewife. Genuine concern was always sexier than subservience, in his opinion.
Despite his earlier words, it felt good to strip down out of his wet clothes alone and spend a moment sitting in front of the fire and staring into the dancing flames. He hadn't realized how cold he was until he was inside and he couldn't feel his thighs or his toes. It was probably a good idea to come back when he had, honestly. Any longer and he might have actually caused real damage to his extremities.
How long he sat there, he didn't know, but when he heard the door he looked toward Cassandra, who noticed his state of relative undress and made a noise. "The porridge is hot so you will want to have on breeches, at the least, if you are going to eat."
Cadash laughed, and felt his stomach rumble again as he really smelled the meal she'd gotten for him. Porridge always smelled so warm, and the sugar on the top... Well, he could already feel his resistance to the food melting. Maybe if he ate it would help dislodge some of the cold inside of his chest.
Standing, Cadash rummaged for a new pair of breeches in his drawer and then sat down on the edge of the bed. Cassandra handed him the tray and then sank down into a nearby chair, the flickering fire light casting beautiful shadows on the sharp angles of her face. For a moment he contented himself with watching her and eating, until he finally found the strength to speak once warmth had returned to his frozen toes.
"I don't think I miss it," he answered her question from before, tearing his eyes away to look back into the fire. "I think I miss what I was before it changed me. Things were easier then. The world wasn't so sodding complicated, I guess. It was easier to blow the dust off the vein of silver and really see where things might turn out in the end, if only you were just clever enough. I'm not really sure how to clever myself out of this situation."
Cassandra didn't seem sure what to say because the silence that hung between them was long and heavy, and when he looked at her she was staring at her fingers. He didn't blame her. There was probably nothing that could be done to put back the part of him that had been dislodged by the Anchor the Dread Wolf had inadvertently placed on his hand and the sliver of magic that he'd lodged in Cadash's heart to take its place.
Still, if he knew his Cass like he thought he did, she would try to find the words that would matter the most to him. Whether it was hours or weeks from now, he might be sitting somewhere by himself only to have her come to him and tell him what she most thought he needed to hear. She was honest, and he really would always value that, because often he did need to hear the honest thing, especially having grown up in a world where honest didn't matter as much as money.
Cadash reached out and patted her knee before standing, placing his bowl on the bed and letting the spoon clatter around inside of it. He felt her eyes on him, concerned no doubt, and so he flashed her a smile that was all teeth, winking to reassure her. Maybe it was a bit of an act, but he really did feel a bit better after talking to her. There was always something comforting about finally having someone he could really rely on.
"Don't worry, salroka," he said with a laugh. "It's just a whole lot of nugshit, really."
"It isn't, but I will not push you now," Cassandra said, standing and opening the wardrobe to throw a shirt at him. "It is likely best for us to both go about our duties. The visitors from the Imperium and Antiva are here to discuss our business. I met Divine Victoria's agent while I was in the hall and she asked me to pass the message on to you."
"Well, we'll just see what we can do about hunting down a mage," Cadash said, buttoning his shirt and looking at the heavy wooden door to their room. "Or maybe we'll try to hunt down some more answers instead."
"One day you will have to explain to everyone why you decided to save the man attempting to destroy the world rather than deciding to kill him, as any other person would have done in your situation." Cadash wondered for a moment why she had brought that up but when he looked into her eyes, he could see that she was caught up in her own thoughts.
"Well, Cass, it's important to remember here that I'm not any other person and he's..." Was? Is a friend? "He wants me to stop him. He wants me to find another way. After all that time we spent together, after everything that happened to us, I just... Can't believe he's evil."
She didn't look satisfied, but she didn't respond either. Cadash knew Solas had hurt her, that she had trusted his expertise and his friendship, had trusted in his kindness, and had been let down. He didn't blame her for how she felt, and that she was still here, well... It was a testament to how much she trusted and loved him.
Cadash reached out and grabbed her fingers, pressing a kiss to the back of her palm and looking up into her eyes. "I can't explain why I still believe in him. I'm angry with him, Cass, believe me I am, but he's not Corypheus. He wants me to save him, and if I let him down, well, that would be a betrayal of the trust he put in me. I won't betray anyone I care about."
For a drawn out moment she looked into his eyes and then she sighed, leaning down to kiss him. Her lips lingered for a long moment as he traced the shape of her jaw with his fingertips, drawing away from her only when she broke the kiss.
"Whether or not he deserves your forgiveness and assistance remains to be seen," Cassandra said, "but I am willing to admit I may be wrong about him, and more importantly..." Her face softened and for a moment she was Cassandra on the blanket in Skyhold's gardens again. "You wouldn't be the man I love if you weren't willing to put your absolute faith in your friends."
Cadash smiled and Cassandra smiled back before they both turned to the bedroom door and she threw it open with all the confidence she'd possessed the first time they'd met and she'd threatened him with execution.
It was funny how much things had changed and how much hope she inspired in him simply be existing.
She was the trump card Lady Luck had dealt him, and with her help, maybe everything really would end well. Cadash could only hope that tomorrow would look better.
--
That night, the two of them walked the grounds around the Chantry.
Above them the stars glittered and the scar cast green-blue light on the mountain peaks. Knowing what had created that magic, who that magic actually belonged to, didn't make the sight any less beautiful. If anything, it enhanced the scar's beauty in an odd sort of way, emphasizing just what had been cost in order to create it.
It still smelled of pine, but this time the scent was something like home. In the distance, Cadash could hear some of his men singing badly from the Herald's Rest, among them the voice of a few of the Chargers, who were visiting while they were on their rounds around Thedas. Soon, they would head toward the North again, perhaps so The Iron Bull could visit Dorian.
Maybe Cadash would be going with them this time, if what had been discussed in the talks was any indication. Going back to the north and getting away from the Orlesians and Fereldans might actually be good for him, especially if he could convince Cassandra to come with him. In the North there were resources, and maybe there were answers.
Right now, though, Cadash didn't want to dwell on answers or a lack thereof. He wanted to walk with Cassandra and think about anything other than the tensions among the Warden's ranks and the instability of Orlais. He wanted to push the Dread Wolf and his machinations from his mind and focus on simply being himself.
He would never recover if he didn't try to move on from the Anchor.
For awhile the two of them talked about nothing, discussing the future in the abstract sense. Where would they go? What sorts of things did they plan to do together? Would he help her with the Seekers despite not having the potential to become one himself? What would they do after all this potentially world-shattering business was over?
It was difficult to discuss, to be honest. Cadash didn't even know how the world would look in two weeks. He had no idea how soon the Dread Wolf planned to act and what even his partially successful plans might do the world. With that thought in mind, it was hard to imagine what their future might be like at all, but it was distracting to explore the possibilities by acting like everything was going to be okay.
Eventually they grew silent, the sound of their boots crunching through the snow the only noise to be heard as they both settled underneath a pine tree. Cadash looked up at the sky, thinking about everything that had happened in the past five years. It felt a bit overwhelming to consider how his relationships and personality had morphed. For awhile, he just let himself sit adrift in his overwhelming wave of emotions and leaned against the trunk of the tree, his eyes slipping closed.
"I was thinking," Cassandra said suddenly, prompting Cadash to look at him, "about what you said to me earlier."
Cadash wasn't certain what she was talking about until he remembered talking about not being able to return. The look on her face was serious enough that it brought the memories of his attempts at levity back and he took a breath to brace himself for what she had to say. She seemed to be struggling with the words, but Cadash wasn't surprised.
Words were hard for Cassandra, and he'd never begrudge her that.
"I think that perhaps you are looking at all of this in the wrong way. You are looking at what you have lost instead of what you have gained. Before, you were a smuggler and a criminal. Perhaps you had a sense of identity as a Dwarf, but..." She hesitated, and he could tell she was struggling not to be offensive. To reassure her, he reached out and placed his hand over hers, watching her smile at him thinly in response.
"You are more now, Cadash. You have gained so much because of what happened to you. You have friends and a purpose in life, which is more than other people have. I know you have lost a great deal, and perhaps I am the last person who should be telling you to think more positively, I simply..." Cassandra shifted from foot to foot and groaned, tossing her head back. Her voice was muffled on the snow and she closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath, leaving Cadash to wait for her to calm herself.
"I simply do not want to see you hurting any longer. I know it has been difficult for you to adjust to losing your arm and the Anchor, and that Solas' betrayal hurt you more than any of us, but I... I think that it is time to for you to focus on what could be instead of what was. I say this as... As the woman who loves you, and as your friend."
For a moment Cadash stared at her, barely noticing when snow started to fall again. The words struck him like a hammer, leaving him almost winded, cutting like a blade to the heart of the situation at hand. She was right, as usual. She saw the truth of the matter and realized that he was wasting time dwelling on things he couldn't change.
If he really wanted to move forward, if he wanted to save the world, and have a future with Cassandra, then he would have to let go of this idea that everything had been stolen from him.
But letting go was hard. Part of him really did want to go back to a time when he was just a smuggler and a criminal doing jobs for people who defined his life for him. Even as the Inquisitor he'd had his plan of action more or less defined by the circumstances, but what he did now was up to him.
The weight of it suddenly felt overwhelming, and he reached out blindly for Cassandra, breathing heavily as she reached for him in turn. Strong hands gripped his shoulder and she pressed their foreheads together, her touch grounding him again, bringing him back to earth where everything made sense and he had a sense of orientation.
"No matter what," Cassandra muttered, pressing her lips to his forehead, "no matter what I will be here for you as you have been there for me."
Cadash took another breath and stepped into her embrace, feeling her arms envelop him. She smelled warm and metallic with a hint of the soap she used to wash, a scent that made tears prick the edges of his eyes again. This time when he cried, he didn't hold back, sobbing into her arms, finally letting go and allowing himself to grieve the man he once was.
When he pulled away he felt physically weaker but somehow more resolved, glad that they were alone so no one could see their once mighty Inquisitor laid low by his own emotions. Cassandra was the only person he would allow to see this side of him, the only person he would bear this part of his soul to, and he was grateful for her wellspring of strength, as ever.
"Sodding emotions," he muttered, rubbing at his eyes. "Wish I could just take them and bury them in the Deep Roads and be done with it."
Cassandra snorted, but didn't pull away completely, allowing him to hold her. "I'm glad to see you're back to your typical self. Any more moping and I would have had to call Sera from wherever she's gone to cheer you up."
Cadash laughed and then grew slightly serious, smiling up at her. "Yeah, well. I'm already having a fucking go at working around this amputation. Maybe she could get her arcanist girlfriend to help make me an arm. I'll have to get back to fighting sometime."
"You will. I must admit that I miss our sparring sessions." This time she did pull back, though she offered him her hand to take if he wished.
Cadash was more than happy to accept her offer.
"Then we'll have to see about getting in contact with a few of our old allies. I'm sure that if I can find Rainer, he'll know where she is. Those two supposedly keep in contact."
Cassandra nodded and began to tug him back toward the Chantry but he stopped her, feeling serious words get lodged in his throat and taking a deep breath so that he could express his gratitude. "Listen, Cass..." Cadash squeezed her hand and smiled up into her face, a smile that made his eyes turn soft. "I wanted to thank you for the encouragement. I really... I needed to be told the truth. Sometimes, you need to sit a Dwarf down and let him know that the wine he's drinking is actually Deshyr's piss."
She made a disgusted face, but he laughed and continued.
"You do that for me, salroka. You always have. And that's why, even if I don't deserve you, I'm glad you're at my side. Thanks."
She seemed to waver, her expression oscillating between grateful and embarrassed before she swept him up into a kiss, this one longing and romantic. The same stars from their first night together shown above as she pulled him to her chest, and Cadash vowed to do everything in his power to thank her properly that night.
They both pulled away, breathless, and he grinned, taking her hand again to tug her back toward the Chantry.
Behind them they left footprints that slowly faded in the snow as the sky clouded once more, their laughter echoing through the night. The light from the chantry windows cast colored patterns against the expanse of white as the heavy doors slammed shut and left the world outside plunged in silence.
Cadash's heart was filled with warmth, despite the uncertainty of the night around them, remembering a long ago hymn sung by a band of ragtag refugees in the Frostback mountains. The dawn would come, one day.
All Cadash need do was forge that future himself.
Somewhere in the night a lonely wolf howled, but his voice was lost to the cold and darkness.