Anders: Templar Hunter!
Title: Tainted, Chapter 2
Characters: Mahariel, Alistair, Anders, Wynne, Greagoir
Rating: T
Words: 2,800
Summary: Following Avernus' talk of tainted Templars, Tia and Alistair enlist the help of a self-proclaimed Templar-hunter and make their way into the Circle Tower.
Previous Chapters
Alistair and I aren't the only hunters out there. People have an amazing capacity to be willfully blind, but they're not stupid. The taint was spreading. They were bound to notice loved ones missing and neighbors changed. And when so many lose so much, odds are some will step up and fight back. It never ends well.
Whether he meant to or not, Avernus had given us one more thing. We knew where we had to go. South and west we followed the road, stopping once again on the coast of Lake Calenhad.
"You really think we should believe him?" Alistair asked, not for the first time.
"Maybe. But it's not like we have anywhere else to go."
"You think it's Wynne." He's perceptive, I'll give him that. He can see the Tower in front of us, knows that one of our friends is a tainted Circle mage.
I smirk, nodding for him to follow as I start down the path to the lake's edge. The small cluster of buildings that I remembered are clearly abandoned. It's too much to hope that the boatman would still be tied up to the pier. I walk along the length of it anyway, measuring the distance to the Tower far out across the empty water.
"I just... he said it was the Templars. And why would she come back here anyway? If you spent your whole life locked up someplace and then found yourself with that kind of power, would you go back?"
"I would." The voice answers before I can speak, my head jerking up to see a shadowed figure beside the pier. "I'd go back and burn it to the ground."
Alistair's hand goes to his sword, but I wave it away, stepping in front of him. The speaker steps onto the pier and I see he's perhaps a bit older than us, his sandy hair long and loose, his smirk charmingly crooked. He's handsome... and oddly familiar. But my eyes are all for his gear.
The silver gleams against his dark robes, hidden just beneath his cloak. As he moves to hide the pair of daggers at his belt, I see his arms, the strange fingerless gloves with their red and silver runes. There's a fresh burn mark beneath one elbow.
I've realized why he looks so familiar and lean back toward Alistair. "It's like a dangerous version of you."
"I'm... dangerous."
I chuckle, but the stranger's looking between us. "You're not wrong about them. They are powerful. But I'm guessing you knew that." He nods to my silvered mail, to Alistair's still-brandished sword.
"You too,...?"
"Anders. Mage, wanted apostate and..." He grins. "...Templar hunter."
Alistair quirks a brow. "Templar hunter?"
"It's not what you think. Well, it is. But it isn't. They're... different."
"Tainted by the darkspawn," I supply helpfully.
Anders blinks in surprise. "Tainted by... well, I guess that makes sense."
"You didn't know that?" Alistair claps a hand to his forehead. "What were you, just killing them for fun?"
The mage opens his mouth, thinks better of it and shakes his head. "I just knew that they were suddenly quicker, stronger. Rougher, the last time they tried to bring me back to the Circle. After I, erm... after I escaped. I barely got away."
"And then you started hunting them." I shake my head. "I see you figured out about the silver."
"And fire." He steps back, bringing the strange gauntlets together with a clap. A gout of flame shoots skyward and he staggers with the force of it, seeming to barely snuff it out. He bends to catch his breath. "Don't forget fire."
"So that's what you're trying to do, then? Burn it down?"
"What? No!" He straightens, striding again for the end of the pier. "I'm just looking for stray Templars. They still come across here sometimes. You're friend's right; no one would want to come back to a place like this."
"We do. Can you get us in?"
"I... even if I could... that place is full of Templars. Tainted Templars."
Finally, Alistair sheathes his sword. "So? Take the fight to them."
"That would be suicide."
"This isn't exactly a profession someone picks when they want to stay alive." I quirk a brow. "Can you even get us in?"
Looking out toward the Tower, Anders sighs, shaking his head with a wondering smirk. "I've escaped seven times. Of course I can get you in."
* * *
We slip across the water in a narrow boat that Anders' had kept hidden in the reeds. It's slow going, the oars muffled, and by the time we reach the other shore the sun is already lower than I'd hoped.
"Do you think we have enough time?" Anders asks. "They sleep by day, but by night..."
I shake my head. "Not all of them sleep. Some are just sluggish. We could stay here, but do you really want to be in the open when the island starts crawling with them?"
"Guess not."
He leads us to a grate at the waterline. We've at least timed our arrival with the tides. Anders pries it open with practiced fingers and we slip beneath the Tower. The water's waist-high, the way dark but we follow the mage and reach the end of the tunnel without incident. There's a ladder here, a round door above us which he pushes aside with a grunt.
It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden glare as we emerge. We're on the first floor. The Tower Chantry. Funny that after last time, the screams don't seem out of place.
Two Templars have a young woman pressed back against the altar, her robes marking her as an apprentice. From the way they're snarling and gnashing their teeth, it's clear what they are too.
"Hey!"
One of them yanks on the woman's arm, paying no attention as Anders strides forward.
"Hey!"
The other Templar turns with a growl, turns just in time to see the wave of Anders' hand before it bursts into flame. At its howl, the other drops the girl but the mage dances closer, whirling to drive one of his silver daggers into the Templar's throat.
As the bodies writhe and blacken, Anders helps the girl to her feet. "Go." She does.
I can't help but smile. "Nice."
He offers me a bow, bending to retrieve his blade and wiping it on his robes. After a moment's thought, he gives one of the bodies a kick, smirking as it crumbles.
"I coulda done that," Alistair mumbles as we turn for the door that will take us deeper into the Tower.
But when I push the door aside, I stop short. A dozen Templars turn as one, snarling, hissing, brandishing weapons.
"Oh Ma-!"
Before Alistair can speak the Templars pause, stepping backward on heavy, shambling steps, clearing the way. Still they growl and pant, straining against some unseen force, but they make no move to stop us. I step carefully into the room, passing close enough for one to snap at me, but I make it to the next door as Alistair and Anders hurry after.
Alistair glances backward, keeping a wary eye until the next bend takes the Templars out of sight. "Why does that worry me?"
"You'd rather we have to fight them?"
"I'd rather not fight whatever's holding them."
He has a point, but if my previous visit to the Circle taught me anything, it's that we'll find what we're looking for at the top.
We pass other Templars along the way, mages too, but all stand aside as we pass. They look no more pleased about it than their fellows downstairs, their faces contorting in pained hunger. It's strange. We've seen tainted humans, but these are almost mindless, little more than darkspawn themselves. This is something new.
When we reach the highest floor, I begin to suspect why. It streams along the walls, pulsing golden, a familiar wave of light. But it's threaded through with shadow, slithering across the surface, twisting the eyes. I move forward slowly, ignoring Alistair's warning as I run my fingers along the stone.
I shudder. "Tainted. Anders, don't touch it."
"Not a problem."
Alistair steps to my side. "What is it?"
"You don't recognize it? 'Regenerative' she said it was, a healing wave. Now though... I don't know what this is."
"Wynne." His eyes go wide. "The spirit."
"I had hoped that it would somehow make her immune. That maybe it would have fought the taint, or that maybe she would have just died. Maybe the others would have turned on her when she didn't change. Maybe they would have ripped her apart. It would be better that way."
"Have I ever told you that worry me?" Alistair tries to make his tone light, but I'm not laughing. So many times I'd imagined her death, hoped for it.
But Anders is behind us now. "Um... guys?"
There's a clatter of plate, the echo of shuffling boots. The Templars and mages have followed us, cresting the stairs but paying no more attention to us than they had below. They move past and I share a look with Anders as we follow their progress. The procession leads to an inner door; there's nothing for it but to follow behind.
"Really? We're really doing this?" Alistair draws his blade, shaking his head as I ignore him.
The door is thrown wide, but the light cascades across the opening. The tainted seem to pass through it without harm, but I hesitate. "Anders..."
"You're not leaving me here."
"Fine." Steeling myself, I step through. Alistair follows.
After a long moment, Anders comes through at a run, some sort of iridescent shield blooming around him. He shudders as it winks out, rubbing at his arms as though wishing he could scour off his skin. I know the feeling.
But the sinking in my stomach is something worse. The room is wide, round, empty save for a tall stone chair at its center. And the Templars, the mages... they stop where they stand, falling to their knees in a strange sort of muttering reverence. For they still growl, would still turn in an instant and kill the lot of us, but the creature in the chair draws them as surely as she draws my eyes.
I can't look away. I don't want to.
"Tia."
Wynne comes slowly to her feet, resting a hand on the arm of the Templar at her side. I recognize this one, Knight-Commander Greagoir. His eyes meet mine and I see my recognition mirrored. He's truly tainted, I realize, not like these others.
But I'm moving forward now, I can't help it. Wynne's different, every step seeming to glory in her newfound strength, hips swaying in a way that might make even Morrigan blush. Her white hair gleams long and free, her robes snuggly fitted, her slippers tall and perilously pointed. She's young again, or at least feels that way.
"Wynne. You look... good."
She throws back her head to laugh and it's a magical sound. The lighted walls pulse with the beauty of it. "It is kind of you to say so. But I fear I must apologize. I did not know that it was you at first. I would not have wished you to be attacked."
The courtesy throws me for a moment, I have to admit. I shake my head. "What are you doing here?"
She smiles, the same kind and knowing smile that I remember. "This is my home. This is where I was trained to control my powers, where I was later saved by that nameless spirit that is with me still. I have to admit... when first I woke after your friend's attack, I was panicked."
My friend. My Tamlen. I still my features.
"I knew that there was something inside me, something dangerous... or potentially so. I returned in secret, turned myself over to Greagoir." She nods to the old Templar. "He might have killed me then and there, but he was... merciful. Loyal."
The man flushes, even now.
"At first it was an accident. I did not mean to hurt him, to share this taint. But it was Greagoir who made me see. We became the same then, he and I, the same hunger, the same fate. No more were we Templar and mage, but something new."
"Oh, no..." Alistair lays a hand on my arm, head swiveling to take in the others.
Wynne smiles. "Hello, Alistair."
"Uh... hi." He leans close, whispers in my ear. "We should go."
But Wynne only chuckles, pacing away. "This spirit... it is a benevolent thing. Capable of so much wonder, of healing, of restoration. It was a simple thing to let it spread this gift as well."
"The light. It turns them." I pull away from Alistair, following her.
"It does."
"But it's not a 'gift'. They're monsters, can't you see that?"
She turns, blinking at me above that knowing smirk. "No more so than you or I. And in this way, they are under my power. I will not let them hurt you."
"But they will hurt someone. They have to; it's their nature."
"It is." She sighs, turning back toward her chair. "That is why we must do more. That is why we must all become the same."
No...
"Think on it, Warden. No more Templars, no more mages. No more borders and no more war. We will all be the same." There's fire in her eyes as she turns back to look at me. "I can make this happen."
I laugh - of all things - I laugh.
Wynne glowers. The sudden change is horrifying, but I'm laughing still. Her heels echo as she closes the distance between us, but Anders is at my side then, his hands flaring as fire dances between his fingers.
"No closer, you mad old bat."
"Anders." Her smile is a twisted thing now, showing all her teeth. "Back again?"
"You might say that." The flames flare as he puts himself between us.
But it's Wynne who laughs now, waving delicate fingers to channel a thin stream of ice. The fire winks out and her hand wraps round Anders throat, lifting him off the ground before either of us can move.
"Wynne!"
She pulls him close as his legs kick feebly above the floor, his eyes rolling in wild panic. Her gaze meets mine as she buries her face in his throat. Anders make a feeble grab for his daggers and she pulls away with an exhalant gasp, wiping the blood delicately from her lips with the back of her free hand.
"You always were eager to leave." Her arm jerks upward, pushing him away with such force that he smashes through the window across the room. For a moment he seems to hang suspended, desperate eyes meeting mine before he plunges down into the water.
My mind barely registers the shock of it before locking to the angry red of the sky, the setting of the sun. We don't have time. I know in that moment that we're going to die.
"Alistair!" He seems to catch my meaning, brining his blade up before him as he charges Wynne.
But Greagoir puts himself between them, sword meeting sword as Alistair is thrown off balance. He's stronger but Alistair's on his own. I've pulled my own shortsword and am charging after Wynne.
She simply returns to her chair, the peaceful demeanor returned and only somewhat marred by the blood smeared cross her face and hands. I glance behind me, knowing that at any moment she could free the others and end this farce. But her gaze is only for Greagoir and Alistair, watching with a sort of calm detachment.
I level my blade at her throat. "If I kill you... what happens to them?"
"I suspect they will die." She tilts her head to look up at me. "Can you live with that on your conscience, Warden?"
"I already do."
"Think of it, Tia, the world that I could create - that we could create. It is only a matter of time before the taint spreads. Before it takes you, too. This way, we can make a peace."
"Your peace."
"And yours."
"This is my peace." She doesn't fight me as I drive the blade home, only smiles that gentle smile.
The screams erupt behind me, one louder than all the rest. Templars and mages alike are writhing, dying, but Greagoir whirls away from Alistair, charging me instead. The distraction is enough. Alistair slips behind him with a swing that takes off his head.
He crumbles instantly and the others are already growing quiet. Only Wynne remains, the light returning to her and wrapping her round. But there's no healing this. It fades as we watch; her death looks gentler than most. At least she's still smiling. I trace a finger along her cheek, trembling with her as it crumbles to ash.
Characters: Mahariel, Alistair, Anders, Wynne, Greagoir
Rating: T
Words: 2,800
Summary: Following Avernus' talk of tainted Templars, Tia and Alistair enlist the help of a self-proclaimed Templar-hunter and make their way into the Circle Tower.
Previous Chapters
Alistair and I aren't the only hunters out there. People have an amazing capacity to be willfully blind, but they're not stupid. The taint was spreading. They were bound to notice loved ones missing and neighbors changed. And when so many lose so much, odds are some will step up and fight back. It never ends well.
Whether he meant to or not, Avernus had given us one more thing. We knew where we had to go. South and west we followed the road, stopping once again on the coast of Lake Calenhad.
"You really think we should believe him?" Alistair asked, not for the first time.
"Maybe. But it's not like we have anywhere else to go."
"You think it's Wynne." He's perceptive, I'll give him that. He can see the Tower in front of us, knows that one of our friends is a tainted Circle mage.
I smirk, nodding for him to follow as I start down the path to the lake's edge. The small cluster of buildings that I remembered are clearly abandoned. It's too much to hope that the boatman would still be tied up to the pier. I walk along the length of it anyway, measuring the distance to the Tower far out across the empty water.
"I just... he said it was the Templars. And why would she come back here anyway? If you spent your whole life locked up someplace and then found yourself with that kind of power, would you go back?"
"I would." The voice answers before I can speak, my head jerking up to see a shadowed figure beside the pier. "I'd go back and burn it to the ground."
Alistair's hand goes to his sword, but I wave it away, stepping in front of him. The speaker steps onto the pier and I see he's perhaps a bit older than us, his sandy hair long and loose, his smirk charmingly crooked. He's handsome... and oddly familiar. But my eyes are all for his gear.
The silver gleams against his dark robes, hidden just beneath his cloak. As he moves to hide the pair of daggers at his belt, I see his arms, the strange fingerless gloves with their red and silver runes. There's a fresh burn mark beneath one elbow.
I've realized why he looks so familiar and lean back toward Alistair. "It's like a dangerous version of you."
"I'm... dangerous."
I chuckle, but the stranger's looking between us. "You're not wrong about them. They are powerful. But I'm guessing you knew that." He nods to my silvered mail, to Alistair's still-brandished sword.
"You too,...?"
"Anders. Mage, wanted apostate and..." He grins. "...Templar hunter."
Alistair quirks a brow. "Templar hunter?"
"It's not what you think. Well, it is. But it isn't. They're... different."
"Tainted by the darkspawn," I supply helpfully.
Anders blinks in surprise. "Tainted by... well, I guess that makes sense."
"You didn't know that?" Alistair claps a hand to his forehead. "What were you, just killing them for fun?"
The mage opens his mouth, thinks better of it and shakes his head. "I just knew that they were suddenly quicker, stronger. Rougher, the last time they tried to bring me back to the Circle. After I, erm... after I escaped. I barely got away."
"And then you started hunting them." I shake my head. "I see you figured out about the silver."
"And fire." He steps back, bringing the strange gauntlets together with a clap. A gout of flame shoots skyward and he staggers with the force of it, seeming to barely snuff it out. He bends to catch his breath. "Don't forget fire."
"So that's what you're trying to do, then? Burn it down?"
"What? No!" He straightens, striding again for the end of the pier. "I'm just looking for stray Templars. They still come across here sometimes. You're friend's right; no one would want to come back to a place like this."
"We do. Can you get us in?"
"I... even if I could... that place is full of Templars. Tainted Templars."
Finally, Alistair sheathes his sword. "So? Take the fight to them."
"That would be suicide."
"This isn't exactly a profession someone picks when they want to stay alive." I quirk a brow. "Can you even get us in?"
Looking out toward the Tower, Anders sighs, shaking his head with a wondering smirk. "I've escaped seven times. Of course I can get you in."
* * *
We slip across the water in a narrow boat that Anders' had kept hidden in the reeds. It's slow going, the oars muffled, and by the time we reach the other shore the sun is already lower than I'd hoped.
"Do you think we have enough time?" Anders asks. "They sleep by day, but by night..."
I shake my head. "Not all of them sleep. Some are just sluggish. We could stay here, but do you really want to be in the open when the island starts crawling with them?"
"Guess not."
He leads us to a grate at the waterline. We've at least timed our arrival with the tides. Anders pries it open with practiced fingers and we slip beneath the Tower. The water's waist-high, the way dark but we follow the mage and reach the end of the tunnel without incident. There's a ladder here, a round door above us which he pushes aside with a grunt.
It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden glare as we emerge. We're on the first floor. The Tower Chantry. Funny that after last time, the screams don't seem out of place.
Two Templars have a young woman pressed back against the altar, her robes marking her as an apprentice. From the way they're snarling and gnashing their teeth, it's clear what they are too.
"Hey!"
One of them yanks on the woman's arm, paying no attention as Anders strides forward.
"Hey!"
The other Templar turns with a growl, turns just in time to see the wave of Anders' hand before it bursts into flame. At its howl, the other drops the girl but the mage dances closer, whirling to drive one of his silver daggers into the Templar's throat.
As the bodies writhe and blacken, Anders helps the girl to her feet. "Go." She does.
I can't help but smile. "Nice."
He offers me a bow, bending to retrieve his blade and wiping it on his robes. After a moment's thought, he gives one of the bodies a kick, smirking as it crumbles.
"I coulda done that," Alistair mumbles as we turn for the door that will take us deeper into the Tower.
But when I push the door aside, I stop short. A dozen Templars turn as one, snarling, hissing, brandishing weapons.
"Oh Ma-!"
Before Alistair can speak the Templars pause, stepping backward on heavy, shambling steps, clearing the way. Still they growl and pant, straining against some unseen force, but they make no move to stop us. I step carefully into the room, passing close enough for one to snap at me, but I make it to the next door as Alistair and Anders hurry after.
Alistair glances backward, keeping a wary eye until the next bend takes the Templars out of sight. "Why does that worry me?"
"You'd rather we have to fight them?"
"I'd rather not fight whatever's holding them."
He has a point, but if my previous visit to the Circle taught me anything, it's that we'll find what we're looking for at the top.
We pass other Templars along the way, mages too, but all stand aside as we pass. They look no more pleased about it than their fellows downstairs, their faces contorting in pained hunger. It's strange. We've seen tainted humans, but these are almost mindless, little more than darkspawn themselves. This is something new.
When we reach the highest floor, I begin to suspect why. It streams along the walls, pulsing golden, a familiar wave of light. But it's threaded through with shadow, slithering across the surface, twisting the eyes. I move forward slowly, ignoring Alistair's warning as I run my fingers along the stone.
I shudder. "Tainted. Anders, don't touch it."
"Not a problem."
Alistair steps to my side. "What is it?"
"You don't recognize it? 'Regenerative' she said it was, a healing wave. Now though... I don't know what this is."
"Wynne." His eyes go wide. "The spirit."
"I had hoped that it would somehow make her immune. That maybe it would have fought the taint, or that maybe she would have just died. Maybe the others would have turned on her when she didn't change. Maybe they would have ripped her apart. It would be better that way."
"Have I ever told you that worry me?" Alistair tries to make his tone light, but I'm not laughing. So many times I'd imagined her death, hoped for it.
But Anders is behind us now. "Um... guys?"
There's a clatter of plate, the echo of shuffling boots. The Templars and mages have followed us, cresting the stairs but paying no more attention to us than they had below. They move past and I share a look with Anders as we follow their progress. The procession leads to an inner door; there's nothing for it but to follow behind.
"Really? We're really doing this?" Alistair draws his blade, shaking his head as I ignore him.
The door is thrown wide, but the light cascades across the opening. The tainted seem to pass through it without harm, but I hesitate. "Anders..."
"You're not leaving me here."
"Fine." Steeling myself, I step through. Alistair follows.
After a long moment, Anders comes through at a run, some sort of iridescent shield blooming around him. He shudders as it winks out, rubbing at his arms as though wishing he could scour off his skin. I know the feeling.
But the sinking in my stomach is something worse. The room is wide, round, empty save for a tall stone chair at its center. And the Templars, the mages... they stop where they stand, falling to their knees in a strange sort of muttering reverence. For they still growl, would still turn in an instant and kill the lot of us, but the creature in the chair draws them as surely as she draws my eyes.
I can't look away. I don't want to.
"Tia."
Wynne comes slowly to her feet, resting a hand on the arm of the Templar at her side. I recognize this one, Knight-Commander Greagoir. His eyes meet mine and I see my recognition mirrored. He's truly tainted, I realize, not like these others.
But I'm moving forward now, I can't help it. Wynne's different, every step seeming to glory in her newfound strength, hips swaying in a way that might make even Morrigan blush. Her white hair gleams long and free, her robes snuggly fitted, her slippers tall and perilously pointed. She's young again, or at least feels that way.
"Wynne. You look... good."
She throws back her head to laugh and it's a magical sound. The lighted walls pulse with the beauty of it. "It is kind of you to say so. But I fear I must apologize. I did not know that it was you at first. I would not have wished you to be attacked."
The courtesy throws me for a moment, I have to admit. I shake my head. "What are you doing here?"
She smiles, the same kind and knowing smile that I remember. "This is my home. This is where I was trained to control my powers, where I was later saved by that nameless spirit that is with me still. I have to admit... when first I woke after your friend's attack, I was panicked."
My friend. My Tamlen. I still my features.
"I knew that there was something inside me, something dangerous... or potentially so. I returned in secret, turned myself over to Greagoir." She nods to the old Templar. "He might have killed me then and there, but he was... merciful. Loyal."
The man flushes, even now.
"At first it was an accident. I did not mean to hurt him, to share this taint. But it was Greagoir who made me see. We became the same then, he and I, the same hunger, the same fate. No more were we Templar and mage, but something new."
"Oh, no..." Alistair lays a hand on my arm, head swiveling to take in the others.
Wynne smiles. "Hello, Alistair."
"Uh... hi." He leans close, whispers in my ear. "We should go."
But Wynne only chuckles, pacing away. "This spirit... it is a benevolent thing. Capable of so much wonder, of healing, of restoration. It was a simple thing to let it spread this gift as well."
"The light. It turns them." I pull away from Alistair, following her.
"It does."
"But it's not a 'gift'. They're monsters, can't you see that?"
She turns, blinking at me above that knowing smirk. "No more so than you or I. And in this way, they are under my power. I will not let them hurt you."
"But they will hurt someone. They have to; it's their nature."
"It is." She sighs, turning back toward her chair. "That is why we must do more. That is why we must all become the same."
No...
"Think on it, Warden. No more Templars, no more mages. No more borders and no more war. We will all be the same." There's fire in her eyes as she turns back to look at me. "I can make this happen."
I laugh - of all things - I laugh.
Wynne glowers. The sudden change is horrifying, but I'm laughing still. Her heels echo as she closes the distance between us, but Anders is at my side then, his hands flaring as fire dances between his fingers.
"No closer, you mad old bat."
"Anders." Her smile is a twisted thing now, showing all her teeth. "Back again?"
"You might say that." The flames flare as he puts himself between us.
But it's Wynne who laughs now, waving delicate fingers to channel a thin stream of ice. The fire winks out and her hand wraps round Anders throat, lifting him off the ground before either of us can move.
"Wynne!"
She pulls him close as his legs kick feebly above the floor, his eyes rolling in wild panic. Her gaze meets mine as she buries her face in his throat. Anders make a feeble grab for his daggers and she pulls away with an exhalant gasp, wiping the blood delicately from her lips with the back of her free hand.
"You always were eager to leave." Her arm jerks upward, pushing him away with such force that he smashes through the window across the room. For a moment he seems to hang suspended, desperate eyes meeting mine before he plunges down into the water.
My mind barely registers the shock of it before locking to the angry red of the sky, the setting of the sun. We don't have time. I know in that moment that we're going to die.
"Alistair!" He seems to catch my meaning, brining his blade up before him as he charges Wynne.
But Greagoir puts himself between them, sword meeting sword as Alistair is thrown off balance. He's stronger but Alistair's on his own. I've pulled my own shortsword and am charging after Wynne.
She simply returns to her chair, the peaceful demeanor returned and only somewhat marred by the blood smeared cross her face and hands. I glance behind me, knowing that at any moment she could free the others and end this farce. But her gaze is only for Greagoir and Alistair, watching with a sort of calm detachment.
I level my blade at her throat. "If I kill you... what happens to them?"
"I suspect they will die." She tilts her head to look up at me. "Can you live with that on your conscience, Warden?"
"I already do."
"Think of it, Tia, the world that I could create - that we could create. It is only a matter of time before the taint spreads. Before it takes you, too. This way, we can make a peace."
"Your peace."
"And yours."
"This is my peace." She doesn't fight me as I drive the blade home, only smiles that gentle smile.
The screams erupt behind me, one louder than all the rest. Templars and mages alike are writhing, dying, but Greagoir whirls away from Alistair, charging me instead. The distraction is enough. Alistair slips behind him with a swing that takes off his head.
He crumbles instantly and the others are already growing quiet. Only Wynne remains, the light returning to her and wrapping her round. But there's no healing this. It fades as we watch; her death looks gentler than most. At least she's still smiling. I trace a finger along her cheek, trembling with her as it crumbles to ash.