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Rook was going to be sick. The mind guiding the Blight, fighting them the entire way, it was— it was—
“Emmrich?” Eyes dark and unseeing, the Blight crawling in his veins, stark against an ashen face — Rook was running toward him before she realized it, the Blight tendrils encircling Emmrich's body reacting and drawing him further into a protective cocoon. She could only release a horrified whisper, “What have they done to him?”
The roar of the Archdemon sent Rook reeling back.
“We are out of time.” Solas grabbed her by the shoulder, her attention snapping to him, though all she could see was Emmrich, Elgar’nan turning him against them. “I will defeat the Archdemon. Once Elgar'nan is mortal, the final blow…” He pressed something to her hand, the familiar hum of the lyrium dagger crawling under her skin. “… must be yours. I can think of no one better to wield this.”
Rook nodded, she must have said something back, she must have, but everything that happened next was a blur. The Dread Wolf. The Archdemon. Rook's heart jumping to her throat, the thrum of her blood so loud in her ears. And Emmrich. Emmrich. Wave after wave of darkspawn — Emmrich, she now knew, sending the Blight after them, intent to kill.
How dare Elgar'nan do this? Rook’s heart was tearing from her ribcage, the seething rage rising all the way to the back of her teeth, despair, terror, not far behind it. This was all her fault. She let him deal with those wards at Tearstone. How could she have been so blind to the trap? Were they going to make it? Was Emmrich?
When she finally reached him, she screamed, “Emmrich, can you hear me? We're going to get you out of there, just hold on!”
“Emmrich is gone.” The voice that answered was both achingly familiar and terrifyingly alien, the hair at the back of her neck standing on edge at the uncanniness. “There is only the will of Elgar'nan.”
“No. No, no, no…”
“Giver of life…” Large tendrils wrapped around a construct, awakening it. “… and death.”
They fought, but Rook could not take her eyes off him, mind half in the fight in front of her, the other on making sure he was safe. “Emmrich, snap out of it!”
A mistake. The arm of the construct slammed against her ribcage, a crack somewhere in her body. Pain burst behind her eyes, but it could not compare to the way her heart shattered when Emmrich finally looked at her with those dark eyes, no light of recognition inside them.
“None oppose Elgar'nan and survive. Resistance is futile.”
It was only through the efforts of her companions that she survived the second blow — Neve's shield forming in front of her, Davrin taking the brunt of the attack and bashing the construct away.
“You alright?” Neve pulled Rook to her feet.
“No.” Rook wiped the blood from her mouth. It hurt to even breathe. “But I will be as soon as we get Emmrich out of there.”
“A little help here?” Davrin shouted at them.
Neve nodded at Rook. “We'll get him out.” Then to Davrin — “You got it!”
They finished off the construct together, Davrin to the front, sword and shield steady, Neve slinging her spells, and Rook with her mage knife from behind. When it finally fell, its collapse shaking the ground beneath their feet, she ran to Emmrich, taking the lyrium dagger out and slicing through the thickest of the blighted tendrils.
It resisted, the Blight like tar, until finally — it gave way, Emmrich falling into her arms.
Relief was short-lived, however, Emmrich crying out and pushing her away. He raised his voice, eyes to something Rook and the others couldn't see. “Get out! Get out of my head! You are not welcome here!”
The Blight receded, reeling away from Emmrich's words as though pained, and for the first time since she saw him — his eyes cleared, just barely enough though still stained like ink and blood. Reason returned to his senses, and he fell to his knees, finally, finally looking at her.
“Darling?” His voice was no more than above a whisper. “You're here. I—” He sucked in a shuddering breath when Rook knelt beside him, gathering him in her arms, her hands stroking his cheeks, checking for signs of injury. There were none — only the Blight. It was under his skin, veins bulging and dark as night. It ran up his neck, poured from his eyes — but it was still Emmrich. Kind, wonderful, alive Emmrich.
And Rook didn't think — only pressed her lips to his, relief flooding her. For the first time since he disappeared, she could finally breathe again.
Emmrich jerked away from her, fear on his face. “Darling, no, don't. The Blight, you'll—”
She silenced him with another kiss, uncaring. Blight take her — it would be fine, as long as Emmrich was safe.
When they parted, after another shuddering breath, his face fell. He confessed, looking to the others now, “He was in my mind, his words all I could fathom in that darkness. I couldn’t— I couldn't stop. I wanted to help him.”
Rook's grip turned bruising. “It's okay. You're free now. You're safe.”
“No.” Emmrich pulled away from her, finally standing to his full height. “We aren't. Any of us.” His face was grim when he finally said, “I learnt a great deal while I was in that Blight eruption.”