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    Summary

    An easy wind blew through the trees, carrying with it the smell of wildflowers. From where he was sat, the trees in front of him bowed in such a way he could see the lost Elven city of Arlathan. Mikhal wiped away the blood, now just trickling, from his brow. Squinting, he could imagine what the city would've looked like untainted by Tevinter. A marvel of Ancient Elven engineering, golden towers that had once housed knowledge now lost to the rot of bloodshed and time.

    Loss of the self is the source of suffering.

    Mikhal staggered into a realisation; this was as good as any place to die.

    The plan was simple. Mikhal Aldwir would die stopping the Dread Wolf's ritual. Thedas would be saved and he would have given his life for the greater good; a death with purpose.
    To his own dismay, Mikhal survives. He's stuck playing the role of "Rook", the charming leader of a group of bas in their impossible fight against two Elven Gods.
    Just as he thinks it can't get any worse, he lets an abomination into their hideout.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    10,012
    Chapters:
    2/?
    Comments:
    12
    Kudos:
    10
    Bookmarks:
    2
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