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Chapter Text

Darkness. And then light. Green, fading, shifting, surreal light. Carver put his arm up to cover the source, but found it coming from all round him. From the rocks of the ground that dug into his knees to the rocks that floated in the air, fading into the greening grey fog in the distance.

     Floating rocks? Carver thought to himself, lifting himself off the ground and looking around more, at where ever he currently was. Turning, his eyes fell on a spire in the distance, a light, almost like a lantern shown there, shimmering as if it called out to him. He narrowed his eyes, hoping to get a closer look before taking a step forward, and then another, and another. He realized that his body was going to be taking him to the spire whether he wanted to or not, so he moved with it. Hopping over cracks and jutting rocks, ducking under floating debris until he reached the bottom of the tower, and what appeared to be heavily damaged, and incredibly steep, steps.

     Looking up at the top, he saw the outline of a woman, and a voice in the back of his mind called out to him; soft, comforting, yet demanding and urgent. Like the voice of his mother before the blight, like the voices of the chantry lay sisters as they sung their prayers in the morning. Moving forward, Carver began to make his way up, only to find that the walk up turned to be more of a climb. Making his way up, the voice called out again, feeling more like a warning this time, and that’s when Carver heard the creatures.

     He wouldn’t have called them spiders, no, that would give the beasts too much credit. They’re silver-grey shells shone brightly in the green light. They’re limbs twisted, broken, as if they had been stepped on by something much bigger. They’re shells -or exoskeleton, as he had heard Merrill once say- was plated, with large spikes that jutted out behind them.

     His eyes widened as they fell on the creatures at the base of the spire, fear making him move faster, making him careless, as he crawled the last few meters to the woman, whom he now realized was the light he saw earlier. The light-woman reached an arm out, kneeling at the edge of the landing she stood upon. Stretching his arm out as far as he could, he felt heat sear through his arm as his hand clasped with the light-woman’s.

     There was a flash, and then he was falling. Not far, but far enough to knock the wind from his chest as he hit the ground. Ground that was not glowing green. He tried to stand, only to fall back to the ground, his vision fading to black. The list thing his eyes registered was a pair of soldiers, both with their weapons drawn, and a strange symbol across the chest piece of their armor.

---

As he awoke, pain racked his left arm, accompanied by a crackling noise and a flash of green. Opening his eyes, Carver realized he was kneeling in some sort of dungeon, the cold stone beneath him sapping the heat from him. He moved to rub his eye, only to find his arms bound, metal shackles wrapped around his wrist, holding them in front of him. Another flash of pain racked his arm, and his left hand lit up, a glowing scar in the center of his palm at the epicenter.

     The sound of approaching footsteps made him look up. Two woman marched towards him, both of whom he recognized, though he couldn’t place from where. As they approached, the sound of swords being sheathed behind him made him realize that he was under armed guard.

     The first woman who came into the room had dark brown –almost black- hair that saw cut short, save a braid she had wrapped like a crown around her head, it reminded him of Aveline. She had a scar on her cheek that marred her tawny skin, and a scowl that could make an Ogre run in fear.

     The other woman looked more reserved, though her eyes burned with hatred as they fell Carver. Her orange hair was partially hidden by a hooded half-cloak. She looked small under the heavy clothes he wore, but he knew from experience that he should never doubt the strength of an angry woman, or any woman at all really.

     The dark haired woman moved forward, circling him like a wolf circles its prey, before stopping behind him and leaning forward, so her mouth was next to his ear.

     “First the Kirkwall chantry, and now the Most Holy’s Conclave, how many acts of iconoclasm does the Champion wish to be related to?” The dark haired woman asked, bending down to growl the words into Carver’s ear. The memory came to him. The blinding red light of the explosion for beyond the walls. The fear of losing the only family he had left.

     “My brother had nothing to do with this, with either of these events,” Carver spat, glaring at the woman. He remembered he now too, Cassandra Pentaghast, of the Seekers of Truth. He remembered meeting her shortly after Garret had fled Kirkwall, fearing the worst of backlash from the divine. She sneered at him, her lip curling slightly as she watched him.

     “Then explain this,” She said, reaching down to wrench his marked hand in front of his face, only to throw it back down the best she could while it was shackled.

     “I- I can’t,” Carver said, the anger fading slightly from his voice. He looked from the Seeker, whom his words only seemed to anger further, to the red-head, whose face was a mask.

     “What do you mean you can’t?” She asked. Carver knew, from experience no less, that if she were a mage, fire would be flickering at the edges of the armor and around her clenched fists.

     “I don’t know what that is, or how it got there,” Carver said, brow rising, feigning insolence even though it wasn’t necessary.

     “You’re lying!” Cassandra yelled, lunging forward, hand on the strap of his armor, lifting him up off the ground slightly. At this, the other woman moved coming forward to halt Cassandra’s arm where it had disappeared to draw the sword at her side.

     “We need him, Cassandra!” The redhead said, pulling the woman back from Carver and stepping between them, and then looking over her shoulder to at Carver.

     “Wait… you’re telling me, that all those people… they’re dead?” Carver asked, looking between the two women, as the realization of what they were accusing him of fell over him. Everyone at the conclave. The Divine, the mages, the templars. All of them dead. Possibly by his hand, as well.

     “Do you remember what happened? How this began?” The redhead asked him, turning completely to look face him. Her face was hidden in shadow, though Carver could see the light reflecting off her eyes, like those of a cats. Cassandra began to circle them again, her hands clasped behind her back, and further away, so the redhead was in the circle she walked.

     "I remember being at the conclave. I saw people, recognized some from Kirkwall, both mages and templars, and then… confusion, then anger, then pain.” He said, looking down at his hands, to where the scar on his left hand glowed like the lightning bugs that he and Bethany used to catch back in Lothering.

     “I remember running. Things were chasing me. And then… a woman?” Carver finished, looking up the redhead, who face changed as the last words fell from his mouth.

     “A woman?” She asked, taking a small step back and crossing her arms.

     “She… reached out to me. Called out to me. But then…” Carver said, straining to remember hard enough that the vein at his temple bulged slightly. When he couldn’t pull the thoughts from his mind, the memories he knew had to be there, he let out a small grunt, his shoulders sagging as he gave up. Cassandra stepped forward, placing a hand on the red head shoulder, and began guiding her to the door.

     “Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take him to the rift,” Cassandra said, the last words sounding more like a threat than they were meant to be, or at least Carver hoped. She then moved, kneeling in front of Craver and unshackling his hands, only to tie them again in a coarse rope that rubbed at his skin.

     “What did happen?” He said, looking into her eyes that were hard as steel with a mixture of grief and hatred. She sighed heavily, shaking her head slightly before standing, bringing him up with her.

     “It… would be better to show you,” She said, turning to pull him along. As they made their way down the hall, voices from above them became louder, singing the chant, and carver realized they were in the basement of a chantry. Most likely the one in Haven. It was the closest settlement he could think, if it hadn’t been destroyed as well. The pair made their way up a flight of stairs before pushing through a door into the main hall. The group of sisters that were chanting at the foot of a statue fell silent as they saw him, anger creasing their brows, down-turning their lips into frowns.

     Cassandra let go of the rope around his wrists as they stepped through the large wooden door, where a blinding green light shined down upon the town. Dying everything it touched a nauseating color. Looking up, Carvers eyes fell on the source, and his stomach did a flip.

     In the sky, sat a hole. Bright green, churning, and spewing magic into the world. Rocks floated around the entrance, and green lightening flashed through the heavy gray clouds around it, causing another flash of color to blind him temporarily.

     “We call it The Breach,” Cassandra said, her eyes on the hole as well as she spoke. Carver hadn’t realized she was speaking to him, his mind barely catching the words, it was so focused on The Breach, as she called it.

     “It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour,” She turned back to him, and moved closer to him. “It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave.”

     “An explosion can do that,” Carver found himself saying, though he knew already what an explosion could do. He had born witness to it back in Kirkwall.

     “As you are well aware. Unless we act, The Breach may grow until it swallows the world,” Cassandra said with a nod, voicing his words. The Breach cracked to life, a sound like a mountain splitting open, followed by a bright flash, and a sharp pain shooting up his arm, strong enough to make Carver fall to his knees, a scream echoing off the walls of the chantry that he knew came from him. Clenching his fist, Carver pulled it close to his stomach, hoping that the pressure of his other hand and body would ease the pain. Cassandra moved forward, kneeling in front of Carver, her face a mix of concern and something else.

     “Each time the breach expands, your mark spreads… and it is killing you,” She said, motioning with her hand for him to look at her. Carver let out a pained laugh at her words, which seemed to confuse her more than anger her like he was afraid of.

     “And here I thought the Calling would get to me first,” Carver said, gritting out a grin.

     “It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time,” Cassandra said, after his “joke” flumped. The look she gave him was that of someone who had just found the body of a dying mabari. Carver took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly.

     “I understand,” He said, meeting her eyes. She reeled back slightly, just enough that he noticed it.

     “Then…?” she said, trailing off to search his face, doubt furrowing her brow slightly.

     “I’ll help, that’s what Wardens are supposed to do, isn’t it?” Carver said. Cassandra nodded, lifting him back to his feet and getting behind him, the hand on his back telling him where to go.

     She pressed her hand into his back, edging him forward and through the town and past the people. Their eyes dug into him, and if looks could kill, Carver knew he would be dead a hundred time over. Whispers followed the stares, whispers of “He killed the divine” and “Murderer.”

     “They have decided your guilt. They need it,” Cassandra said, eyes scanning the crowd around them, following them. Carver feared that if it were not she with him, he would be killed by them.

     “The people of Haven mourn our most holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The conclave was hers,” The words past though Carver as Cassandra guide him out a set of gates, and up a short path, that ended in a bridge.

     “It was a chance for peace between the mages and the templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead.” They passed through another gate onto the bridge, where the guards glared at him as they passed.

     “We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the breach is sealed,” Cassandra said, drawing to a halt in the center of the bridge. She stepped in front of him, one hand disappearing behind her back and coming back with a short knife.

     “There will be a trial, I can promise no more,” Cassandra said as she cut the ropes around Carver’s wrists.

     “Come, It is not much further,” She continued, turning and making her way towards the gate at the other end of the bridge. Carver followed, undoing the remainders of the ropes around his wrists and dropping them to the ground.

     “Where are you taking me?” Carver asked, with only a look that read you’re kidding me right thrown at him over Cassandra’s shoulder as an answer. As they made their way across the bridge, they passed a group of soldiers who seemed to be comforting another. They passed a Chantry sister kneeling in front of pile on un-wrapped bodies, and another prepping them to be burned.

     “Open the Gates!” Cassandra’s voice drew him back, and the gate in front of them creaked open on rusting hinges, pushing past the snow that had gathered on the ground. Carver paused on the bridge side, looking up the arch and past it to The Breach.

Chapter Text

Cassandra made Carver lead the way up the path, most likely to keep an eye on him, not because she trusted him. They wove through partial defenses, not that they would have done any good to stop like a demon, maybe make it pause, but not stop. As a group of soldiers passed them, The Breach flashed again, sending another flash of pain up his arm, more painful that the last, causing him to fall again, his knees hitting against the ground hard, making his armor rattle slightly. Cassandra came forwards lifting him back up.

      “The pulses are coming after faster now,” She said, stepping away and walking further up the path. “The more the breach grows, the rifts appear, the more demons we have to face.”

      “How did I survive the blast?” Carver asked, falling into step besides her, rubbing his still aching hand and arm.

      “They say you… stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious,” They reached another bridge, passing under an archway to where a group of soldiers stood at the other end.

      “They say a woman was in the rift behind you, no one knew who she was. Everything-” Cassandra was cut off by a rock, or something, that had hit the bridge hard enough to shatter the stones of it, making it collapse onto the frozen lake bed below, Carver and Cassandra going with it. Carver landed on his back, a chunk of rock jamming between the plates of his armor, and into flesh. Cassandra was far more graceful, rolling as she hit the ice, and coming up square on her feet. She moved quickly, pulling Carver up off the ice, and the two of them watched as another rock flew from The Breach, striking the ice further up the river with a hiss. Green light emanated from the impact point and condensed into a shade, a demon.

     Cassandra was ready, drawing her sword and shield faster than Carver could comprehend and charging forward.

      “Stay behind me!” She yelled over her shoulder, before reaching the shade and slamming her shield into its “face”. Carver stepped backwards, realizing that the ground below him was glowing to, the light looking more like a liquid and bubbling on the surface of the ice. Carver stepped back further, looking around frantically for anything he could use as a weapon. There was a broken wagon wheel. No. A large rock. No. Then out of the corner of his eye he saw it, the handle of a great sword, under some rubble just a few feet away. Lunging, Carver grabbed the handle and then spun on the spot where to demon was forming, just as it sprung to “life”.

     The Shade was almost as tall as he was, with molted grey-black skin that covered its body, and patches of leather that looked like they were glued to it were being used as armor. The things head saw covered by a shawl, the green glow from its eyes in the shadows beneath had the same feeling of sentience behind them that a horse did, so that is to say none. From finger like appendages at the end of its arms, razor sharp claws grew, darker that the rest of its body, looking almost like the obsidian pendant Hawke wore.

     The shade looked at him, so to speak, and made a guttural growling noise before surging forward, arms raised and talons bared. Carver tensed, waiting for an opening before striking. He heft the blade up as hard as he could, intercepting the shades claws as they came down. The strike severed one of the shades hands, the lump of flesh fell to the ground before falling apart like wet paper as it hit the ice. Black liquid oozed from where the hand used to be, the shade letting out an odd shriek.

     With Carver’s blade up, he brought it down again, this time catching the shade in the shoulder. The blade sunk into flesh like it was grease, though it where the shade’s heart would have been, had it been human. The demon moved forward, sword still stuck in its chest, sinking the blade deeper, black ooze traveling up ahead of the body as it raised its uninjured hand to strike. Just before it brought its hand down, another sword hacked through it, cleaving right into the shade’s neck. Cassandra pressed her sword harder, the iron blade sliding through the rest of the beast’s neck, severing the head from its body.

     The creature fell, body falling apart like the hand had, leaving a black gunk on Carver’s blade. Carver relaxed, letting the blade’s tip clink against the ice before tensing again as he found Cassandra’s sword at his throat.

“Drop your weapon, now,” She said her voice hard again, brow creased.

      “A demon attacked me, what was I supposed to do?” Carver said, anger bubbling in his gut.

      “You don’t need to fight,” She said, narrowing her eyes at him.

      “Are you saying it won’t happen again?” Carver said, cocking his head at her, a look of angered bewilderment on his face. Cassandra relaxed slightly, not that she wasn’t still angry, and let out a hard sigh.

      “You’re right,” She said, sheathing her sword and backing away slightly.

      “I cannot protect you, and cannot expect you to be defenseless,” She continued, turning away and walking towards a path up the river. She stopped after a few steps and turned back around towards Carver.

      “I should have remembered you agreed to some willingly.”

     They moved on, following the frozen river, the snow fall giving them traction on the ice. Carver walked next to the Seeker, looking around at the surrounding landscape, scanning for more demons, until he caught Cassandra staring at him, eyes narrowed in confusion.

      “What is it?” Carver asked brining a hand up to his face to wipe away something that wasn’t there.

      “I was… wondering. What was a Grey Warden doing at the conclave?” Cassandra asked, looking back at the river. Carver thought for a moment before answering.

      “I figured a Warden should be there. Plus, the meeting that could decide the fate of southern Thedas? Who wouldn’t want to be there?” Craver said, shrugging slightly at the last words.

      “You said you remember being confused, do you know about what,” Cassandra asked, looking back over at him. He closed his eyes, trying to remember what he had seen, what he had heard, that had made him so angry.

      “I- I don’t remember,” He said after a moment, opening his eyes just in time to catch the brief disappointment on Cassandra’s face. She nodded in return, and remained silent till they reached another path, one worn by heavy use. The path turned up a hill, embedded with planks of wood as stairs, and the sound of a fight up at the top.

      “Can you hear the fighting? We are getting close,” Cassandra said, moving faster and drawing her sword as she moved up the hill. Carver followed suit, drawing his own weapon and jogging after her.

      “Who is fighting?” he asked when he caught up, about half way up the stairs. A momentary look of disgust crossed her face, her lip curling and nose scrunching up.

      “You will see soon enough,” she said, going silent once again. They reached the top of the hill, turning towards where a small building once stood, and where a skirmish was taking place. The fight consisted of demons, some inquisition soldiers, a bald elven mage, and-

      “Varric?” Caver said aloud, getting a disgruntled grunt from Cassandra as they dropped into the pit where the fight was taking place.

     Caver charged the closest Shade, his blade slicing the demon from its waist to opposite shoulder in one up swing, the soldier on the other side of it giving him an astonished, ooze splattered look as he moved to the next.

     The Elf-mage spun his staff, Ice enveloping the demon between him and Carver, the warrior recognizing the opportunity from his time with both the wardens and Hawke. He brought his sword up, bringing the pommel down onto the demons head, shattering the ice, sending the demon-ice crumbling to a pile on the ground. The elf looked slightly pleased before looking behind Carver, a shout on his lips.

     Carver spun, finding a Shade less than a foot from him, arms raised high, ready to strike him down. Craver brought his sword up, though he knew it wouldn’t be fast enough, when the demon jolted, once, twice, and then a third time before slumping to the ground in a heap, three cross-bow bolts jutting from the back if it’s head. Varric winked at him, opening his mouth to say something before a crack to Craver’s left drew his attention.

     Hovering in the air a few feet to his left, and about five off the ground, was a green ripple –looking like one of those auroras that one of the wardens from the far south had told him about. Magic poured from it, condensing in the air around it, the metallic scent of it flooding the area around it.

      “Quickly, before more come through!” The Elf-mage yelled, grabbing Craver’s wrist and pulled him to the spot. The elf shoved his hand marked hand into the rift, a shock running up his arm as it came into contact with it. The shock of the rift didn’t hurt, not entirely, but it made Carver feel as though he had slept on his arm, the numbness that filled it as the rift cracked again before expanding slightly, and collapsing upon itself, leaving a slightly wrong feeling in the air where it once stood.

      “What did you do?” Carver asked, looking at the elf and to the mark on his hand and back to the elf, shanking his hand slightly to bring feeling back into it

      “I did nothing. The credit is yours,” The Elf said with a smug smile and a nod.

      “At least this is good for something,” Carver said with a huff, looking back to his hand, where the scar in the center glowed green under his skin.

      “Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand,” The elf said, dropping his shoulders and extending his neck like Anders had done when blathering on about his manifesto.

      “I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake- and it seems I was correct,” The Elf continued, the look on his face getting smugger as he went on. Carver resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he turned to Cassandra, who had stepped up next to him.

      “Meaning it could also close the Breach itself,” She said, as if she knew already.

      “Possibly,” The Elf said, looking back to Carver from Cassandra, and folding his hands together in front of himself.

      “Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass deep in demons forever,” A gruff voice said from behind Carver, making a smile spread across his face. Carver turned around, Varric stood a few feet behind him, his crossbow –Bianca- already strapped to his back, and fixing his gloves nonchalantly. Carver moved forward before Varric could say another word, lifting the dwarf off the ground in a bear hug, and receiving a strained laugh from him.

      “It’s good to see you too, Junior,” Varric said, his voice a laugh-like groan as Carver set him down.

      “So you’re with the Chantry now?” Carver asked, clapping Varric on the back, and making him almost fall forward.

      “Technically I’m a prisoner, just like you,” Varric said, laughing slightly.

      “I brought you here so you could tell your story to the divine, clearly that is not necessary anymore,” Cassandra said from behind Carver.

      “Yet, here I am. Lucky for you, considering current events,” Varric said, spreading his arms before letting them drop to his sides.

      “I see you still have Bianca with you,” Carver said, gesturing with his chin to the crossbow.

      “Of course, and she’ll be great company in the valley,” Varric said, a smile spreading across his face, his eyes flickering to Cassandra as if waiting for her to strike an argument with him.

      “Absolutely not, your help is appreciated Varric, but-” Cassandra began, only to be cut off by Varric.

      “Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren’t exactly in control anymore. You need me,” Varric said, cocking his head at her, asking her to argue more. Cassandra gave a disgusted grunt in response before turning away from the dwarf.

      “My name is Solas, as you already know Varric. I am pleased to see you still live,” The elf –Solas- said, nodding at Carver.

      “He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept,’” Varric said, giving both Solas and Carver a look that said ‘Did I say that out loud?’

      “Then I owe you my thanks,” Carver said with a curt nod, attempting to ignore Varric’s remark. Solas nodded in return.

      “Thank me if we manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process,” Solas added before looking at Cassandra.

      “Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. Your prisoner is no mage. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power,” He continued. Cassandra responded with a bow-like-nod.

      “Understood. We must get to the forward camp quickly,” Cassandra said, turning and heading to where another path lead. Solas followed her post-haste, Varric following him, walking backwards to face Carver as he passed.

      “Well, Bianca’s excited,” He said with a laugh, before spinning on his heel to face the right way. Carver let out a huff of a laugh, following after the dwarf.

     The group made their way down into another ravine, the river at the bottom frozen over. One of the houses at the bank was burned to ashen skeleton, the stone under it still singed and hot, as the snow melted as it touched it. They made their way across to another set of stairs built into the hill, as they made their way up, Varric spoke again.

      “So, Junior, are you innocent?” He asked, walking up next to Carver.

      “Honestly, I don’t remember what happened,” Carver said, looking down at the dwarf, who laughed in response.

      “That’ll get you every time, should have spun a story instead,” Varric said with a shake of his head.

      “That’s what you would have done,” Cassandra said, stepping up the other side of Carver. They reached the top of the steps and Varric sped up, turning around to walk backwards in front of them.

      “It’s more believable, and less prone to result in premature execution,” The dwarf said, though the look on the two warriors faces made him turn around. The path ahead of them was strewn with bodies and burning carts.

      “I hope Leliana made it through all this,” She said, frowning slightly as she looked around at the wreckage

      “She’s resourceful, Seeker,” Varric said, a smile in his voice that didn’t make it to his eyes.

      “We will see for ourselves at the forward camp, we are almost there,” Solas cut in, starting up the path again, using his staff as a walking stick. Carver nodded silently, quickening his pace, not wanting to look at the mess any longer than he had too.

     The path took them up a hill, and then turned sharply up another before turning once again, a shout drawing their attention.

      “They keep coming, help us!” a soldier yelled, sword drawn, the light from the nearby rift.

      “Another rift,” Cassandra yelled, charging ahead of Carver her sword and shield already in hand.

      “We must seal it, quickly!” Solas yelled, his hands moving in a blur before a bluish light fell over them, a barrier. Varric let out a grunt, drawing Bianca and pulling a flask of poison out of his jacket, dousing the bolts in it. Carver moved forward, taking position next to Cassandra and readying himself.

     This rift was different from the first, while it still oozed magic, unlike the first, a large rock floated in the center, jagged edges and spikes changing and shifting around a center mass, changing every second.

     A shade, this one covered in some sort of golden armor noticed them first. It made a screeching noise before charging them, two more normal shades following closely behind it. Behind them hovered two human like creatures, though they just consisted of the torso head and arms, though -and Craver would not realize this until later- they were made from fragments of the bones from bodies, pulled together by the lesser demon of the fade.

     The three shades got within striking distance, and carver swung, his sword carving chunks out of the chest of the lesser of the two, the third had pulled back, just in time to avoid being hit. Cassandra maneuvered around the lesser of the shades, and charged the third, her sword knocking armor off with each hit, and cutting deeper and deeper as she did.

     Solas slammed the butt of his staff into the ground, ice forming up one of the two lesser shades, while Varric shot one, the bolt covered in poison into the others face.

     Carver swung again, shattering the frozen shade, and crippling the next. He brought his sword up to strike again when a green flash from a few feet away caught his attention.

     The Wraiths that had held back decided to come into play, their arms came together, the magic that formed their hands colliding and forming a ball as they pulled them apart. The Wraiths made a shoving motion, and the balls of magic flew forward, one heading straight for Cassandra, the other for Carver.

     The Magic hit him square in the chest, and a wave of fatigue washed over him, heaving his arms, making him wish he could collapse, and from the look on Cassandra’s face, she felt the same way too. The shade in front of him took advantage of his weakened state, bringing its arms up to strike again, when a bolt hit it square in the face stunning it slightly before another hit it and exploded, a small fireball consuming the shade’s head. Varric stepped up beside him, cocking Bianca’s firing mechanism with a grin.

      “That’s twice now,” The dwarf said, before firing at the wraith. The bolt passed through the green magic holding it together, but caught on a bone that floated within, tearing it out of the magic.

     Solas let out a shout, his staff shooting a bright purple light into the sky, before it came down again as lightning, striking the wraiths as well, shattering the bones within them and dispersing the magic holding them together.

     The Shade Cassandra was fighting crumpled as well, its armor having been hacked off by her blows, and deep gouges within its flesh crippling it severely. She took a final swing, her sword slicing through the Shade’s abdomen, halving it completely. As the Greater Shade fell, the rift flashed, blinding those around it shortly before becoming the green aurora like the one before.

      “Hurry, use the mark,” Solas said, his voice sounding strained after using two powerful spells in a row. Carver nodded, stepping forward and outstretching his marked hand. An odd sensation fell over him, and them a green, crooked beam of magic shot out of his hand, hitting the center of the rift and filling the air with a grating humming sound. There was another burst of light from the rift, forcing Carver to look away, and when he looked back, it was gone.

      “The rift is gone, open the gates,” Cassandra shouted, sheeting her sword and mounting her shield back onto her back in one swift motion.

      “We are clear for the moment, well done,” Solas said trough heavy pants, he was paler than before the battle, and was leaning heavily on his staff, though he waved off Carver’s look of concern.

      “Whatever that thing on your hand is, it’s useful,” Varric said, placing Bianca on his back. Carver nodded, and joined Cassandra as she walked to the gate, pushing it open.

     The gate lead to a large stone bridge, spanning the gorge the river carved below. The four of them walked out onto it, and towards where they could see Leliana, who was arguing with a Chantry brother around a low-set table.

      “Craver Hawke must get to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It is our only chance!” Leliana yelled at the man, who didn’t seem to budge.

      “You have already caused enough trouble without resorting to this exercise on futility,” The man said. He had a slight Orlesian accent, but it sounded like he was born in Ferelden, and was mimicking the accent to blend in.

      “I have caused trouble?” Leliana said, jerking back slightly, more out of offense than actual shock.

      “You, Cassandra, the Most Holy- haven’t you all done enough already?” The man said, throwing his arms out and shaking his head in only.

      “You are not in command here,” Leliana bit out, her lip curling back, giving the man a glare that would have made the Arishok back down, and either he didn’t notice, or was too stupid to see it.

      “Enough! I will not have it!” He spat back, turning his back to Leliana, only to look up as he saw the four of them approach. “Ah, here they come.”

     Leliana stepped forward, intercepting them before they could make it all the way to the table.

      “You made it. Chancellor Roderick, this is-” Leliana began, though the Chancellor cut her off.

      “I know who he is,” he said, looking from Leliana to Carver and them to Cassandra. “As grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.”

     Cassandra reeled back at this, her brow raising drastically and her lip curling slightly.

      “Order me? You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!” She said, stepping forward and cocking her head slightly.

      “And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!” The chancellor snapped back.

      “We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know,” Leliana said, cutting off whatever Cassandra was going to say.

      “Justinia is dead!” The Chancellor shouted, throwing his hand up and tossing his head back slightly. “We must elect a new divine, and obey her orders on the matter!

      “Isn’t closing the Breach the more pressing issue?” Carver asked, butting into the conversation, and cocking his head slightly in mock confusion.

      “You brought this on us in the first place!” the Chancellor said, glaring at Carver. He turned back to Cassandra, his face relaxing slightly.

      “Call a retreat seeker. Our position is hopeless.”

      “We can stop this before it is too late,” Cassandra said, stepping so close to the table her thighs were almost flush with the edge. She placed her hand on the map that was spread there, her finger tracing a main path up the mountain.

      “How? You won’t survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all your soldiers,” The Chancellor said, shaking his head slightly.

      “We must get to the temple, it’s the quickest route,” Cassandra said.

      “But not the safest. Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains,” Leliana said, turning and pointing to what seemed to be an old mining tunnel a short ways up the side of the mountain.

      “We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It is too risky,” Cassandra said, shaking her head slightly.

      “Listen to me. Abandon this now before more lives are lost,” The Chancellor said before Leliana could respond. Cassandra began to say something, but was cut off by a loud roaring echo, like the sound of ice cracking, multiplied by a thousand. They looked up, and watched as a pulse of magic shot down from the breach to where the temple once stood. Carver let out a small gasp, as the mark let out a similar sound, and crackled to life, sending a spasm up his arm. Wincing, he grabbed the trembling arm in his other, digging his fingers into his wrist.

     Looking up, he saw them staring at him, concern on all but the Chancellor’s face, who was glaring at him. Cassandra took a step forward.

      “How do you think we should proceed?” She asked. Carver thought for a moment before answering.

      “I sat we charge,” He said, looking up at the breach, and at the stone spires that shot from the mountain, glowing slightly. “I won’t survive long enough for your trial. Whatever happens, happens now.”

     Cassandra nodded slightly, a small smile on her face, before turning to Solas and Varric, and motioning them to go with a jerk of her head. Carver moved with them, making his way past Leliana, who gave him a strange look, maybe of recognition.

      “Leliana, bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone,” Cassandra said, following after Carver. As they walked away, Carver heard the Chancellor say something to Cassandra, though he could not hear it, but when he turned to gauge her reaction, he could tell from her face that it was not good.

     They made their way up the mountain, following a well-trodden path through the snow, even though the wind whipped it up around them, making harder than it would have been to make it up. All the while the breach still spat magic into the lands, with the calls of Shades and other demons echoing through the mountains.

     When they made it to the top, a group of soldiers rushed past them. Carver looked at Cassandra, who shrugged in response, and the four of them continued onward.

     As they moved forward through the make shift camp, a small explosion rocked the archway in front of them, sending debris and the body of a soldier who had been too close to the source through. They hurried through, and found another rift growing in the courtyard beyond a small group of soldiers fighting the demons that had burst forth from it. Another man fought among them, blond, not in the dress of the soldiers, but he still wore armor. Cassandra and Solas jumped down into the court yard, drawing her sword and casting a spell respectively. As Caver made to do the same, Varric said something that gave him pause.

      “Just wait till you see who it is fighting,” The dwarf said with a grin, firing a bolt from Bianca into one of the Shades that had formed suddenly.

     Carver followed, swinging his sword to cleave a shade in half, and swinging it back to catch another who was creeping up on the blond man, before turning to the flashes of light on the ground, which were condensing into more demons as they fought the ones there.

     The demons that burst forth were more horrendous than the Shades. Their limbs and body were stretched, the skin green, cracked, and pulled tight of muscle. Both hands and feet were oversized, with fingers the same length as Carver’s forearm. The Terrors had multiple eyes, each obsidian black and lifeless, yet filled with intelligence. Their mouths had been stretched as well, the lower jaw coming down to the center of the demon’s chest, and filled with jagged, misplaced rows of teeth. Tails erupted from their lower backs, segmented and spiked, that moved independently of the main body, twitching and swinging wildly.

     Two of them burst from the ground, and Carver charged, bringing his sword up. As he got closer, he spun, using the momentum of the spin to swing the sword into the demon’s leg, the blade digging into the Terror’s knee, severing the appendage at the joint, the demon collapsing to the ground, swinging its arms wildly, its claws slipping in between the edges of his armor, and digging into his side.

     Carver let out a shout, his hands letting go of his sword, as the demon raised its other hand, aiming to bury it into Carver as well. Closing his eyes, Carver tensed, anticipating the blow that didn’t come. He opened his eyes to find the demons head at his feet, the blond man standing behind it, turning away from Carver to the rest of the fight. Carver let out a groan, moving his hand to his side, and pulling the hand away, making himself hiss in pain as the claws slid out of him, blood spilling out after.

     Cassandra made her way over, a flask of red liquid in her hands, which she quickly un-capped and pressed to his lips. The liquid poured into his mouth threatening to choke him if he did not swallow. As he did, warmth flooded him body, and he felt the wound close, the flesh stitch itself together.

      “Pay attention, we can’t have you taking risks, not when we’re this close,” Cassandra said, lifting Carver off the ground and bending to pick up his sword and give it to him.

     The Rift cracked, flashing brightly like the ones before, and becoming closeable. Carver walked over, and held up his hand, letting the sensation take over again, the beam of magic returning and shooting into the rift before it snapped shut. Carver shook his hand, still not used to the feeling that came with using the mark

     Solas came up next to him, the grip of his staff covered in a light frost.

      “Sealed, as before. You are becoming quite proficient at this,” The elf said with a nod.

      “Let’s hope it works on the big one,” Varric said, coming up on his other side.

      “Lady Cassandra,” A man said to Carver’s left, making him turn. The blond man from before. He a scar that came up from his upper lip, his sword and shield were drawn, the black-ooze-blood of demons was splattered across the front of his armor, and a grim look on his face, though it was lined with hope. “You managed to close the rift, well done.”

      “Do not thank me, Commander,” She said with a slight huff, before turning slightly and gesturing to Carver. “This is the prisoner’s doing.”

      “Is it?” The man said, looking at Carver and cocking and eyebrow. His eyes scanned Carvers face, as if trying remember him.

      “Well then Carver, I hope this is worth it, we’ve lost good men getting you here,” The man continued, the use pf his name giving Carver pause. Carver looked over the man’s a face, trying to dig it up from his memory.

      “Wait, Knight-Captain Cullen?” Carver said, stepping closer to him. A slight grimace came upon the man’s face.

      “It is, though I don’t use that title much anymore,” Cullen said. He turned to Cassandra and gave a curt nod.

      “The way to the temple should be clear. Leliana will meet you there,” He continued.

      “Then we will do our best to move quickly. Give us time, Commander,” Cassandra said with a nod. She turned to the others, and with a jerk of her head they began to move, making their way to a ledge. Carver looked over his shoulder before jumping, and watched as Cullen carried a wounded soldier.

     As they landed, the ash on the ground swirled around their feet. Moving forward, more ash billowed up around them, forming a cloud that slowly rose into the air behind them. Carver looked over to Cassandra, whose sad eyes roamed around the sharp rock faces around them.

      “The Temple of Sacred Ashes,” Carver heard Solas say, whether he had meant to say it aloud or not.

      “What’s left of it,” Varric grunted in affirmation, his voice low and tinged with sadness.

      “That is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you,” Cassandra said, her voice hard as they walked through a crumbling archway. It led them to a balcony, which looked over a pit in the mountain. A Rift floated about twenty feet off the ground in the center of the pit, it was nothing more than a sliver of light in the air, but the magic that poured out of it was unmistakable. The four of them stood in silence for a moment, interrupted by the crackling thunder and lightning of the Breach.

      “The Breach is a long way up,” Varric said, nodding along with his words, as if agreeing with himself. The sound of footsteps made the four of them turn, and they watched as Leliana, followed by a small group of soldiers, walked onto the balcony behind them.

      “You’re here, thank the maker,” Leliana said, jogging the few feet up to them, where she gave Cassandra a look.

      “Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple,” Cassandra said, turning to point to places where archers would be able to shoot if a battle where to occur. Leliana responded with a nod, and turned back to the soldiers that came with her. Cassandra turned to Carver, her brows furrowed, and mouth turned into a frown.

      “This is your chance to end this, Carver. Are you ready?” She asked.

      “I’m not sure how to even start getting up to that thing,” Carver said, looking from Cassandra to the Rift and back to the Seeker. Solas took a step forward, and spoke before Cassandra could.

      “No. This Rift is the first, and it is the key,” He said, turning to Cassandra. “Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.”

      “Then let’s find a way down. And be careful,” Cassandra said, turning up where rubble made a walkway around the pit, and where the four of them could make their way to a better spot to drop into it.

     The four of them made their way up the path, halting when a voice echoed throughout the ruins Temple.

      “Now is the hour of our victory,” the voice rumbled, deep and ancient. “Bring fourth the sacrifice.”

      “What are we hearing?” Cassandra asked, stepping forward to where she could see into the pit.

      “At a guess, the person who created the Breach,” Solas said, gesturing for them to move forward.

     They continued onward, the path becoming marred by rock spires that pulsed with green magic. Then a red glow from a nook in the wall of the path drew Carvers attention, and his heart went cold.

      “Varric, is that-?” He began, stopping dead in his tracks.

      “Red lyrium,” The dwarf said, his voice strained and heavy with concern.

      “What’s it doing here?” Carver asked, looking down at the dwarf.

      “Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the Temple, corrupted it,” Solas said, stepping up to the two of them. Varric let out a grunt, turning sharply away from the stuff.

      “It’s evil. Whatever you do, don’t touch it,” He said, moving down the path, away from the red crystals. Solas, Cassandra, and Carver exchanged looks, before following the dwarf. A set of stairs at the far end of the path remained intact, heavily burned and chipped, but stable enough to hold them as they made their way down. The voice spoke again, closer this time, vibrating carver’s whole body, making his teeth click together slightly.

      “Keep the sacrifice still,” it said, sounding more impatient than the last time.

      “Someone help me!” another voice shouted, higher, more accented. This voice gave Cassandra pause, her face blanching as she recognized the voice.

      “That was Divine Justinia’s voice!” she said, and rushed forward, jumping down into the pit, the other three following her. The four of them moved closer to the Rift, which crackled around them, and made the Mark spark to life.

      “Someone help me!” Divine Justinia’s voice called out again, closer this time, as if emanating from the rift itself.

      “What’s going on here,” Another voice echoed out. Cassandra and Varric turned to him, confusion creasing their brow.

      “That was your voice. Most Holy called out to you. But-” Cassandra said, being cut off by a loud crack from the Rift. A pulse of green magic rippled out from the rift, rolling over the surrounding mountain, and then a bright flash that blinded them temporarily.

When they looked back, two figures floated in the air above them. One tall, menacing, and cloaked in darkness. The other, an older woman, decked in Chantry robes, Divine Justinia. Another figure ran into view, Carver.

      “What’s going on here?” vison-Carver said, glaring at the shadowed figure. The Divine looked over at him, pain and worry creasing her aging face.

      “Run while you can, warn them!” she yelled back at him. The shadowed figure held up his hand, and the Divines mouth snapped shut, as if in a vice, before he turned to Carver.

      “We have and intruder. Slay the Warden,” It said, and then another bright flash of light forced them to turn away. Carver looked back when he felt a hand on his shoulder, Cassandra, anger on her face.

      “You were there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?” She asked, her voice forceful, and brimming with anger.

      “I don’t remember,” Carver said, shaking off her hand. Cassandra opened he mouth to speak again, but was cut off by Solas, who had stepped closer to the Rift.

      “Echoes of what happened here. The fade bleeds into this place,” He said, looking back at Cassandra and Carver. He beckoned the other three over to where he stood.

      “This rift is not sealed, but it is closed… albeit temporarily,” Solas said, looking at Carver. “I believe that with the mark, the rift can be opened, and sealed properly and safely.

      “However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side,” he raised his voice for this part, as if to inform everyone in the temple of what was to come.

      “That means demons. Stand ready!” Cassandra yelled, her voice echoing throughout the ruined temple, as she drew her own sword and shield. Carver did the same, noticing that Varric had made his way to a perch slightly higher off the ground, and right in view of the rift. A group of archers on the balcony where they entered from each notched arrows, and gave a nod to Cassandra, who looked to Carver and gave him a nod as well.

     Carver looked to the rift, and raised his marked hand into the air. Almost immediately the numbness fell over him, and the crackling beam of Magic shot from his hand and into the rift, making it grow larger, and the rock spikes at grew from it shifting faster and louder. A final crack and the magic ceased, feeling returning to Carver’s body. Then a bright light flashed behind him, bubbling in midair as in condensed, getting bigger and bigger. Finally a flash of purple lightning shot from it, frying the unfortunate soldier who was standing too close, and the demon emerged, dropping to the ground, cracks forming beneath it from the force.

     The Demon was a jagged, spiked, twenty foot humanoid mass of grey flesh. Four large horns protruded from the back of its inhuman face, where nine pitch black eyes rested. It’s back and shoulders grew rampant with large thorn-like spikes. More horns grew from its forearms, reaching back to its elbows and past. It let out a roar from a mouth that was comically small compared to the rest of its body.

     Cassandra let out a shout in response and charged forward, the few soldiers Leliana had brought charging with her. Carver moved with them, releasing a cry of his own, bringing his longsword up as he did. The Demon’s eyes seemed to zero in on him, whether because it sensed the mark or something else Carver wouldn’t find out. The Demon raised on of its clawed hands, making Craver pause, and a ball of purple energy formed in its palm, electricity crackling from it and up the demons arm. It got bigger and bigger, the bolts of energy striking the ground, narrowly missing the soldiers that had made their way to the Demon’s feet. The Demon seemed to smile, its lipless mouth stretching to show its teeth, and evil glee glowing in its eyes as it pulled its arm back, as if to throw the ball of energy.

     Before it could, a yell made both Carver and the Demon turn to face its origin. Solas stood a few feet away, the ground around him glowing with glyphs and frost forming on the rocks around him. A bolt of blue-white magic shot from his outstretched hand, flying straight towards the Demon’s face. The Demon didn’t seem to have time to react, as the bolt of magic hit it in the face, forming a jagged block of ice around its head. The force of the impact forced it out of balance, causing it to fling its arm out, the ball of magic it had been forming flying off and hitting the ruins of the temple somewhere behind Carver. The Demon collapsed to one knee, hands coming up the tear at the ice around its head.

     Carver moved again, surging forward as fast as he could to reach the downed demon. As he joined Cassandra and the soldiers around the demon’s feet Carver swung, his sword slicing through the hard plates that covered the Demon’s legs, and into the flesh of its outer thigh, black blood spewing out behind it. The Demon let out a roar as Carver pulled the sword back out.

     A chunk of ice fell next to him, and then more. Looking up, he saw the Demon pull the last of it off its head, beady black eyes looking straight down at him. Anger spilled across the Demon’s face as it lifted its arm above its head and bringing it down. Carver rolled, narrowly avoiding being struck by the hand as it hit the ground, but the sound of crumpling metal made him realize that another was not so lucky.

     Hopping back to his feet, Carver swung at the Demon again, his sword slicing cleanly through the Demon’s wrist, severing the giant hand from the owner’s body. The Demon let out another roar, and stood up straight, lifting its hand to strike again, a bolt ripped the flesh from behind, making the arm go limp. Carver moved to the side of the demon to avoid getting hit by the arm and caught a glimpse of Varric running along the back wall, who was pulling back the firing mechanism on Bianca to ready another shot. Carver grinned and then moved below the Demon again, thrusting his sword up into the chest of the Demon, the blade sliding into flesh and into where a heart would be.

     The Demon let out a another roar, this one weaker than the last before dropping to its knees, knocking Carver over, and forcing the blade even deeper, only the handle jutting out of the softening flesh.

     Another pained groan escaped the Demons mouth before it fell face first into the ground, forcing Carver to roll to a standing position to avoid being crushed. The demon hit the ground, a puddle of black ooze-blood forming quickly underneath it.

     Before he could celebrate, Carver felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking at its owner, Carver saw Cassandra, exhaustion and pain marring her face.

      “Seal the rift. Now,” Cassandra said, pushing Carver forward slightly. Carver nodded and outstretched his hand, stepping closer to the rift as he let the sensation take over again. The beam of magic shot from his palm, brighter than before as it struck the rift. A humming noise filled the ruins, and Carver felt his teeth rattling together. The rift flashed brightly, a massive boom following the light, like thunder after lightening, and Carver felt his vision go black. The last thing he remembers was Varric shouting his name, and the feeling of hitting the ground.

Chapter Text

 Carver awoke with a start, sweat beading on his forehead and heart pounding in his ears. The voices and images that flashed through his dreams lingered in his thoughts as the mark on his hand sparked slightly.

      Carver’s mind wondered back to when he and Bethany were children, before the blight, before their father had died, when they would stay up till dawn, talking about the dreams that plagued her sleep. When Carver had become a Warden, he thought the dreams he had then were close to what she described, but looking at the green light the glowed beneath his skin.

      Sitting up, he looked around at the strange room. It was sparsely decorated, with wood walls, a fireplace casting light around, and a window that looked out on a small unkempt garden. Small fur pelts hung on the wall, above and empty metal bird cage on the floor

      A door creaked open, and Carver watched as an elven woman walked in, a smile on her face as she sifted through the wooden box in her arms. She looked up at him and dropped the box, the smile falling from her face, and letting out a small gasp as she did so.

      “I didn’t know you were awake, I swear,” She said, taking a few steps back, her voice pleading and her eyebrows raised. She looked him up and down and blushed slightly, making Carver look down, and realize he was covered only the blanket, which had pooled around his waist. He felt his face heat up, and he pulled the blanket up, covering his chest.

      “Where am I?” Carver asked, looking back up at the elf. She dropped to her knees and pressed her forehead against the floor before looking back up at Carver, still on all fours.

      “I beg you Forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant,” She said looking back down towards the down, her red-brown hair falling out from behind her ears. Carver swung his legs over the side of the bed, pulling the sheet with him, concern furrowing his brown and down-turning the corners of his mouth.

      “You are back in Haven, my lord,” she continued, still not looking up from the ground. “They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand.”

      Carver looked down at his hand, where the mark sparked quickly, no pain this time, just a slight buzz that ran up his arm and into his jaw. Green light lit up under that skin, highlighting the mark as it glowed under his skin and let out a soft burst of magic that flowed over his body.

      “It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days,” She said looking up at him, eyes locking in on the mark as it continued to glow. Carver looked over at her, frowning slightly.

      “So you’re saying… they’re happy with me?” Carver asked.

      “I’m only saying what I heard. I didn’t mean anything by it,” She said, looking back down at the ground, but not before her eyes went wide with slight fear. She looked back up and began to stand, slowly back up towards the door.

      “I’m certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you’ve awakened. She said, “At once”,” She continued, her back now pressed against the door, hand searching for the handle.

      “And where is she?” Carver asked, standing up from the bed and fumbling with the sheet.

      “In the chantry, with the lord chancellor. “At once,” she said,” The elf finished before bursting out the door and slamming it behind her. Carver looked around, the sheet still clutched around his body, and found his armor in a chest at the foot of the bed. After tightening the last strap, he went to the door, opening it and letting in a cold blast of mountain air and a swirl of loose snow.

      Stepping out into Haven, the first thing he noticed was the group of soldiers that lined either side of the pathway in front of him, each one wearing a matching set of armor. He made his way down the path, slowly at first, speeding up if not just to rid himself of the gazes of those who watched from behind the line. The path curved, passing through a large crowd of villagers, chantry sisters, and more uniformed men and women. Whispers came from this crowd, whispers of that’s him and the herald of Andraste. Those words rattled in his head as he made his way towards the chantry.

      A group of sisters huddled together outside the doors of the chantry, their red and white robes standing out against the grey-brown stone of the building, their breath fogging the air as they whispered to one another, and shooting looks at Carver that ranged from fearful to angry as he passed.

      As he entered the chantry, his footsteps echoed off of the stone floors and vaulted ceilings, over powering the sound of the voices arguing from the back of the chantry.

      “My duty is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours,” a voice Carver recognized as Cassandra said from behind the heavy wooden door at the end of the main hall.

      He pushed through the door, and caught a glimpse of Cassandra and Leliana standing opposite of him at a large table, and the Chancellor standing at the head of it, back ling by the brazier behind him. The Chancellor looked at him, a sneer crossing his face.

      “Chain him. I want him prepared for travel to the capitol for trial,” the Chancellor said, addressing the Templars on either side of the door that Carver had not noticed when he entered.

      “Disregard that, and leave us,” Cassandra said, looking over at Carver. The Templars saluted, metal gauntlets clanging against their chest pieces. They turned and made their way through the door, closing it behind them.

      “You walk a dangerous line, Seeker,” the Chancellor said, turning to glare back at Cassandra.

      “The breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it,” She responded stepping around the table and up to the Chancellor.

      “So I’m still a suspect, even after what we just did?” Carver asked shifting slightly and looking from Cassandra to the Chancellor and then back to Cassandra.

      “You absolutely are,” The Chancellor said through gritted teeth, his jaw tight and voice thick with hatred.

      “No, he is not,” Cassandra said. Leliana took a step over the join Cassandra.

      “Someone was behind the attack at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect,” She said as she moved, looking at the Chancellor. “Perhaps they died with the others-or have allies who yet live.”

      “I am a suspect?” The Chancellor asked, cocking his head at Leliana, and throwing his hand out to the side

      “You, and many others,” Leliana said with a curt and mater-of-fact nod.

      “But not the prisoner,” The Chancellor responded, it was not a question, but a statement, for everyone in the room already knew the answer.

      “I heard the voices at the Temple,” Cassandra said, “The Divine called to him for help.”

      “So his survival, that thing on his hand- all a coincidence?” the Chancellor spat, throwing a disgusted look over at Carver, and crossing his arms over his chest as he looked back at Cassandra.

      “Providence,” Cassandra said with a nod towards Carver, he eyes training in on him, yet not turning towards him outright. “The Maker sent him to us in our darkest hour.”

      “So you’ve changed your mind about me,” Carver said with a small smile, looking over at Cassandra.

      “I was wrong, perhaps I still am,” She responded, looking down slightly before looking back at Carver, determination adding a fire to her eyes.

      “I will not, however, pretend you were not exactly what we needed, when we needed it,” She continued, turning around and moving to a small table in the back of the room.

      “The Breach remains, and your mark is still our only hope of closing it,” Leliana said, looking at Carver, her face solemn, yet slightly excited.

      “This is not for you to decide,” the Chancellor cut in, but before he could add more, Cassandra stepped forward, slamming a large, leather bound book onto the table. The book was made of a dark, rough looking leather. The cover was emblazoned with a metal sunburst, and had smaller scraps of paper and fabric sticking out between some of the pages

      “You know what this is, Chancellor,” she asked, jabbing at the cover with her finger as she looked at him. “A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.

      “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order,” she said taking steps towards the Chancellor, forcing him back with each one. “With, or without, your approval,” She finished. The Chancellor puffed up, glaring at the three of them before storming past Carver and out the door.

      “This is the Divine’s directive,” Leliana said, gently placing a gloved hand on the cover of the book. “Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos.

      “We aren’t ready,” she said, turning towards Carver and Cassandra. “We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support.”

      “But we have no choice: must act now,” Cassandra said, looking towards Carver, her face slightly pleading, slightly threatening. “With you at our side.”

      “If you’re truly trying to restore order,” Carver said slowly.

      “That is the Plan,” Leliana nodded.

      “Help us fix this,” Cassandra said, holding out her hand. “Before it’s too late.”

      Carver hesitated briefly, looking between Cassandra, her outstretched hand, and Leliana. He locked eyes with Cassandra and reached forward, clasping her hand and shaking it.

---

Carver stood at the entrance to the Chanrty, shivering slightly as a cold wind swept through Haven. Cassandra had asked to meet him there, it was only an hour-or-so after he had joined the newly-formed inquisition. He shifted from foot to foot, looking around at the court yard in front of him. It was dusted with snow, yet that had been worn and muddied is some parts by the almost constant foot traffic that occurred there.

      A woman standing by a tent looked at him and rolled her eyes before waving him over, looking annoyed. She had pale, scarred skin, and hair the color dried wheat that stuck out slightly from under a feathered cap.

      “If you’re here with another message from Warden-Commander Clarel, Lady Nightingale has already told the last four messengers that she doesn’t know where the Hero of- Oh, wait, your him aren’t you? You’re the Herald of Andraste,” She said, her voice accusing and angry at first, yet turning slightly less accusing and more apologetic as she went on.

      “Threnn, Inquisition quartermaster. I’m doing what I can to supply this mess,” She added. “If you find what I need to fill my requisitions, I’d appreciate you brining it in.”

      Carver opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by a voice from behind him.

      “Herald, if you would,” Cassandra said from the door to the Chantry, gesturing with her head for him to come with her. Carver turned to say something to Threnn, but she had already turned her attention to a messenger.

      Walking into the Chantry, Carver saw it with a new light. Now inhabited by chantry sister, the building seemed livelier, with more torches having been lit. The smell of incense and the sound of a few sisters singing the chant filled the stone walls with a new life that Carver had not scene when he first awoke.

      Cassandra stood a few feet in from the door, eyes closed, as if she was reminiscing about something. She opened her eyes as he entered, and began to walk towards the back room, Carver falling into step behind her.

      As they walked, Carvers mind drifted back to when he first made his way through the buildings halls, when he had awoken in the basement of the building, and was interrogated by Cassandra. It made him think of the mark, the pain that used to be present before he closed the rift at the temple. He looked down at his marked, and now gloved, hand, expecting the mark to flare up as he watched. Cassandra must have seen him looking.

      “Does it trouble you?” she asked, looking over at him. He stopped and looked up at her as she did too, her eyes locking with his.

      “It’s stopped spreading, and it doesn’t hurt,” he said.

      “We take out victories where we can,” She responded, shrugging slightly. “What’s important is that your mark is now stable, as is the Breach.

      “You’ve given us time, and Solas believes a second attempt might succeed-provided the mark has more power. The same power used to open it in the first place. That is not easy to come by,” She continued.

      “What harm could there be in powering up something we barely understand?” Carver said, smiling slightly.

      “Hold on to that sense of humor,” Cassandra said, grinning. She moved on, walking up to the wooden door and pushing through, revealing the large table, now with a map of southern Thedas on it, and three people standing on the opposite side of it from them.

      On the left was Leliana, her arms folded stiffly behind her back. Directly opposite of them was Cullen, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, the other on his belt. On the right was a bronze skinned woman, with jet black hair pulled back into a bun, and she held a clipboard in her hand, a feathered quill resting-for the moment-in the other.

      “You know Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces,” Cassandra said, gesturing to the man. He still wore the armor he had on at the Temple, if not a more polished and less bloody version.

      “Such as they are. We lost many soldiers in the valley, but I’m glad to see you still live,” Cullen said with a solemn nod.

      “This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat,” Cassandra said, gesturing to the other woman. She had on an outfit made of golden silk and a deep blue fabric that contrasted well with each other.

      “It is an honor Warden Hawke,” Josephine said with a nod. The title of Hawke made Carver feel weird, mostly after years of hearing his older brother called by their family name instead, but he decided not to mention it, at least for now.

      “And of course you know Sister Leliana,” Cassandra said with another wave to the red head.

      “My position here involves a degree of-” she began, but was quickly cut off by Cassandra.

      “She is our spymaster.”

      “Yes. Tactfully put, Cassandra,” She said with a smile on her face, though her voice let off a hint of something else.

      “An impressive bunch of titles,” Carver said, doing a half-bow-half-nod to the room.

      “I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the breach for good,” Cassandra said, looking over at Carver.

      “Which mean we must approach the rebel mages for help,” Leliana said, stepping forward slightly.

      “And I still disagree, the Templars could serve us just as well,” Cullen said, frowning slightly at Leliana.

      “We need power, Commander. Enough power pours into that mark-” Cassandra began.

      “Might destroy us all. Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so-” Cullen said.

      “Pure speculation,” Leliana cut in, returning the glare Cullen had given her earlier.

      “I was a Templar. I know what they’re capable of,” Cullen said, his voice dropping to a growl.

      “Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet,” Josephine said, before the argument could get more heated.

      “The Chantry has denounce the Inquisition-and you, specifically,” she added, gesturing to Carver with the quill in her hand.

      “That didn’t take long,” Carver said with a shrug.

      “Some are calling you-the brother of the Champion of Kirkwall-the ‘Herald of Andraste,’ this frightens the Chantry,” Josephine continued, as if Carver had said nothing. “The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you.”

      “Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt,” Cassandra said with a disgusted sneer, as if she was being forced to smell something unpleasant.

      “It limits our options. Approaching the mages of Templars for help is currently out of the question,” Josephine said with a nod.

      “Just how am I the Herald of Andraste?” Carver asked, looking around the room.

      “People saw what you did at the temple, how you stopped the Breach from growing. They have also heard about the woman seen in the rifts when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste,” Cassandra said

      “Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading-” Leliana began.

      “Which we have not,” Cassandra said, slightly under her breath, and receiving a glare from Leliana.

      “The point is, everyone is talking about you,” Leliana continued.

      “That’s quite the title, isn’t it? How do you feel about that?” Cullen asked, a slight grin on his face.

      “I’m not sure. It beats ‘Garrett Hawke’s tit of a younger brother’ though,” Carver said, get a laugh from both Cullen and Josephine.

      “People are desperate for a sign of hope. For some, you’re that sign,” Leliana said seriously, though holding back a slight smile.

      “And to other, a symbol of everything that has gone wrong,” Josephine said, looking down at her clipboard.

      “They aren’t more concerned about the breach? The real threat?” Carver asked, frowning slightly.

      “They do know it’s a threat. They just don’t think we can stop it,” Cullen said.

      “The Chantry is telling everyone you’ll make it worse,” Josephine said, shrugging slightly.

      “There is something you can do. A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Gisselle has asked to speak to you,” Leliana said. “She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.”

      “If she wants to help, I’ll see what she has to say,” Carver said with a nod.

      “You will find Mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe,” Leliana continued.

      “Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition’s influence while you are there,” Cullen said.

      “We need agents to extend out reach beyond this valley, and you are better suited than anyone to recruit them,” Josephine said with a nod.

      “In the meantime, let’s think of other options. I won’t leave this all to the Herald,” Cassandra said.

---

Carver sat at the edge of a fire on the outskirts of Haven. Night had fallen, and the villagers had made their way to the tavern. He never realized how quiet the mountains could be at night, with only the wind and the occasional sounds of animals echoing through the snow covered stone spires.

      The fire cracked in front of him, and his mind wandered back to before the Conclave, when he was traveling with Warden Alistair and the others. He remembered when he joined, the tightness and pain that spread through his body as he drank from the metal cup, and when that pain ended, he wasn’t tired anymore.

      The sound of footsteps approaching drew his attention, and he looked and saw Varric, walking out of the shadows towards him, carrying a bottle and two cups. He sat down on the ground besides Carver and poured the contents of the bottle into the cups, passing one to Carver.

      “So, now that Cassandra’s out of earshot, are you holding up alright?” Varric asked after a sip from his cup. Carver shrugged and took a drink himself, holding back a shudder as the whiskey burned his throat. “I mean you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than one day.”

      “I’m just glad we made it out after all that,” Carver said, tossing a quick smile over at Varric, who let out a huff of a laugh in return.

      “I still can’t believe you survived Cassandra. You’re lucky you were out cold for most of her frothing rage,” Varric said. “For days now, we’ve been staring at the Breach, watching demons and Maker-knows-what fall out of it. Bad for moral would be an understatement. I still can’t believe anyone was in there and lived.”

      “You and I were both in Kirkwall when the Chantry blew, and we made it out just fine, who’s to say the Fade is any worse,” Carver said with a shrug. “I’m still finding it hard to believe this isn’t some horrid dream and that I won’t awake in the morning and see Aveline standing above me with a bucket of water.”

      “If this is all just the Maker winding us up, I hope there is a damn good punchline coming,” Varric said, the smile dropping from his face. “You might want to consider running at the first opportunity. I’ve written enough tragedies to recognize where this is going. Heroes are everywhere. I’ve seen that. But a hole in the sky? That’s beyond heroes. We’re going to need a miracle.”

      A silence fell over them, both finishing their glass and refilling it, the fire-light casting drastic shadows on their faces.

      “So… Red Lyrium at the temple,” Carver began, but Varric cut him off with a look that said no more. They had both been in the ancient thaig. But neither of them had realized how dangerous it was at the time. They had both seen what it did in Kirkwall. How it drove Knight-Commander Meredith insane. How it brought those statues to life, and turned Meredith into one herself.

      The silence that over took them was deafening, only broken by a quick burst of rowdy laughter from the tavern. When the fire was no more than embers, Varric stood, giving a nod to Carver before walking away into the night.

---

The next morning saw Carver-along with Cassandra, Varric, and Solas-being lead down a path through the mountains to where they would then make their way to the Hinterlands to meet with Mother Giselle. At about mid-day, they stopped in a small valley, just in sight of the shores of Lake Calenhad.

      Cassandra and Carver sat on opposite ends of a log, each sharpening their respective weapons, when the pause in the seeker’s rhythm made Carver look up from his work. She was staring at him with a mix of confusion and something else.

      “It occurs to me that I don’t actually know much about you,” Cassandra said, cocking her head slightly.

      “What do you mean?” Carver asked, stopping the movement of his whetstone as well.

      “I’ve read A Tale of the Champion but, there is not much in there about you,” She said.

      “What would you like to know?” Carver asked.

      “I’m… not sure. Where are you from?” Cassandra questioned, leaning forward slightly.

      “Outside of Lothering, on a small farm, we left it for Kirkwall before it was destroyed by the Blight,” He replied.

      “You were there before the blight? Did you ever see the Hero of Ferelden, or Leliana for the matter?” She asked.

      “Leliana was in Lothering before the blight?” Carver asked, frowning slightly.

      “I will take that as a no,” She said with a small sigh. They sat in silence for another minute, a laugh from Varric-undoubtedly at Solas’ expense- the only thing to break it in the valley.

      “Do you consider the Free Marches your home?” She asked after a moment.

      “Not really, though now that I’m a Warden, I’m not sure if I would even consider Ferelden my home,” Carver said, looking up from his great sword.

      “I forget you have your oath, will you return to the Wardens after this is all over?” She asked, a slightly sorry expression on her face.

      “I’m not sure. I might, if they would have me back,” Carver replied. Cassandra gave only a knowing nod in reply before looking back down at her sword. They sat silent for another moment before Cassandra spoke again.

      “What was Ferelden like during the Blight?” She asked, looking back up at Carver.

      “I didn’t stay long, after we retreated from the Battle of Ostagar, we left,” He said, not looking up from his sword.

      “You fought in Ostagar?” She asked, her voice high with curiosity and excitement, scooting slightly closer.

      “I wouldn’t use the term ‘fight’. While I did fight in the occasional skirmishes with the Darkspawn, I was in the force of the army that Loghain commanded,” Carver said.

      “You were there though, what was it like?” She asked, inching closer again.

      “Terrible. I watched good soldiers die that day, too many for my tastes, and before you ask, I may not have supported Loghain as king, but he saved many lives that day, including mine, and I will never forget that,” Carver said, the memories of that day hardening his features.

      “I’m sorry, I did not mean to bring up any bad memories,” Cassandra said, looking down at the ground.

      “It’s fine. Ostagar was eleven years ago, there aren’t very many good memories left after that,” He said. Cassandra opened her mouth to speak again, but changed her mind as she watched sorrow take over Carver’s features.

      They sat in silence for a few more minutes, before Solas stood and declared that they should get walking, if they wanted make good time to the Hinterlands.

---

It took them almost four days to reach the road at the edge of Lake Calenhad. Carver sat at the shore, night having long since fallen, and the two moons shining brightly in the sky, dying the surface of the lake silver. With a flick of his wrist he sent another rock skipping across the water, fracturing the sky that reflected off of the water.

      The sound of someone clearing there throat made him turn. Solas stood behind him, a few feet back, with a tight smile drawn on his lips.

      “May I?” the elf asked, gesturing to the empty ground next to Carver. He responded nodding his head, eyes turning back to the lake. The sound of rocks clicking together confirmed that Solas had sat down. A moment of silence passed before Solas spoke.

      “The Chosen of Andraste, a blessed hero sent to save us all,” Solas said, a grin audible in his voice.

      “Am I riding in on a shining steed,” Carver grinned, looking over at the elf.

      “I would have suggested a Griffon, but sadly they’re extinct,” Solas said.

      “Fitting,” Craver huffed, turning back to the lake.

      “Joke as you will, posturing is necessary,” Solas said, looking up at the sky, where the blackness was tinged with ribbons of green from the Breach. “I’ve journeyed deep into the fade and ancient ruins and battle fields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I’ve watched as hosts of spirits clashed to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten.

      “Every great war has its heroes, I’m just curious what king you’ll be?” He asked, looking back at Carver.

      “Hopefully the kind who makes the world a better place,” Carver said.

      “It isn’t always that easy… but I wish you luck,” Solas said, looking back up at the sky. “I will stay then, at least until the Breach has been closed.”

      “Was that in doubt?” Carver asked, cocking his head slightly.

      “I am an apostate surrounded by Chantry forces in the middle of a mage rebellion. Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution,” Solas said.

      “Cassandra trusts you. She won’t let anyone put you into a Circle against your will,” Carver said, frowning slightly.

      “Thank you. I appreciate the thought. For now, let us hope either the mages or the Templars have the power to seal the Breach,” Solas responded. They sat in silence for a moment longer, before Solas stood and made his way back to where they had made camp for the night, leaving Carver to stew in what Solas said, and over the events that changed his life.