Miriam hurriedly packed her healing supplies, her movements swift but precise as she darted back and forth between the shelves of her cabin. Potions, bandages, and salves were quickly assembled into a makeshift kit tied to her belt. It was a sorrowful moment, knowing they would have to abandon Haven—though "abandon" felt like an inadequate word for a place that would be thoroughly destroyed. She sighed deeply, her mind weighed down by the harsh reality of their situation. She wished desperately for more time to find a better solution than the one Leliana had offered, but it was a luxury they simply did not possess.

Hawke had revealed that the army of rebel mages corrupted by red lyrium and led by the Tevinter Magister was closing in on their base. With most of the Templars either killed or maimed by the dragon's attack, they had no means to combat such overwhelming power.

The Champion also informed them that the primary objective of their attackers was to kill the Herald of Andraste, which lead the Spymaster to suggest that Miriam could serve as bait and buy time for the Inquisition forces to escape. There was a secret passage that she discovered during her travels with the Hero of Ferelden, that would allow their people to slip away unnoticed. The plan was relatively straightforward: the Inquisition forces would evacuate Haven, leaving behind only a loaded trebuchet and the Herald. As the enemy gathered around the village, Miriam would fire the weapon, triggering an avalanche that would descend upon the entirety of the enemy forces.

Miriam wasn’t planning to die however, she believed that her mark's power would not only shield her from the avalanche but also enable her to stay alive beneath the snow long enough for Cassandra to find her using her recently arrived phylactery.

The Seeker initially had reservations about the plan, considering the value of the Herald's life given the ongoing threat of open Rifts across Thedas. However, Miriam's confidence and determination to survive ultimately won her over. She reluctantly agreed to the arrangement, but only if Lysette would accompany her. The Templar would serve as a backup plan, ready to fire the trebuchet if something, Maker forbid, were to happen to Miriam during the invasion of Haven.

Surprisingly, Cullen volunteered to stay behind as well. He argued that Miriam and Lysette needed someone with experience handling the trebuchet to ensure the success of their plan. He delegated his duties to Rylen, his second in command, and took charge of preparing the weapon.

The unanimous agreement of the Inquisition Council in support of the Commander's decision left Miriam suspicious. She couldn't help but wonder if there was more to their motivations than they were letting on. Then again, she would be lying if she said she didn’t feel relieved knowing that she wouldn't be alone during those critical moments.

She had grown accustomed to Lysette's protective presence, and even during the brief moments when they weren’t together, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. The Templar didn't even flinch when it was announced that she would stay behind with her. Lysette's faith in the Herald was absolute, even though she had disagreed with her unorthodox method of fighting the dragon earlier.

As for the Commander, while part of her wished for him to be safe with the others, another part of her found solace and comfort in knowing that he would be by her side. She had always felt at ease in the presence of the Templars, and even though Cullen had left the Order, he still remained a living embodiment of its ideals. Of course, the striking resemblance he bore to her childhood friend also played a significant role in her feelings of trust and familiarity.

With her supplies packed and ready, Miriam nodded to Lysette, and they made their way to meet the Commander at the trebuchet. Passing through the empty village felt surreal. The fires and hearths in Haven were left to burn, a deliberate part of the plan to create the illusion that people were still present in the village. Every torch and lantern were left haphazardly about and anything that rattled was made into wind chimes. The flame danced off the metal as it swayed in the wind, making sounds similar to the clanking of armor that echoed off the buildings. The allusion of light flickering off of every reflective surface made it look as if the camp was rushing about readying for the attack. From a distance, aided by the dark of the night, this ruse would draw the enemy in, luring them into the area and positioning them for the impending avalanche.

Miriam's gaze was drawn to her marked hand, feeling the warmth of the emerald flames coursing through her veins. This wasn't the first time the lives of countless people depended on her, but this felt different. She felt strong and capable—finally embodying the Herald she was meant to be from the very beginning, the one she had seen in her vision all those years ago. She felt powerful.

Cullen awaited their arrival with his usual calm and collected demeanor. The trebuchet stood ready, loaded, and aimed. The only thing left to do now was to wait for the approaching enemy forces to draw near.

"Commander, you know how the trebuchet works better than the two of us," Miriam said, her voice steady. "I will leave it to you to decide when to fire the attack. As soon as it's done, I am enclosing us in a barrier. Stay as close to me as possible, the smaller the sphere, the easier it will be for me to maintain it."

"Understood," Cullen replied, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the first of the enemy forces began to appear. Their black mass spreading like a stain of ink on the pristine white snow.

"They're not even trying to be discreet. Such confidence," Lysette murmured, the tight grip on her sword betraying her nervousness.

"That's not confidence, that's foolishness," Cullen replied, drawing his own weapon. "When you underestimate your enemy, you've already lost."

Miriam found herself strangely calm and collected, surprised by her lack of nerves. The energy within her surged with each passing moment, making her limbs feel hot and heavy. Absentmindedly, she noted that her veins were growing in size and emanating a soft, ethereal light.

"That will be their downfall," she declared. "To underestimate us."

The enemy forces wasted no time and soon arrived at the gates of Haven. Corrupted rebel mages Fade stepped through the defenses, one after another, their fireballs filling the air and igniting everything around them in mere seconds. The crackle and song of red lyrium were almost maddening as they drew nearer.

Miriam saw Lysette clenching her teeth, sweat pouring down her face, as the red-infused mages approached like a horde of red madness, chanting "For the Elder One!" and unleashing fire and lightning with wild abandon. Just a few more moments, and they would be within the spells' reach.

"Commander?" the mage heard her guard shout in a desperate voice as she stood protectively in front of her. Cullen didn't reply; his sword was at the ready, and he looked at the approaching enemy with a determined focus, his mouth moving silently as if counting down to something.

Then, just as it seemed that the next fireball would land directly on them, he swung his sword, and the trebuchet fired with a deafening roar, smashing boulders against the mountain.

"Herald, now!" he screamed, and Miriam, relieved to finally release her power, enveloped them in a green sphere just as the crushing wave descended upon the village.

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The avalanche struck her barrier with immense force—a relentless onslaught of snow, trees, stones, and the shattered remnants of buildings. It was nature's force pitted against the might of Miriam's mark.

The sheer power required to sustain the sphere was staggering. If it weren't for her newfound strength, they would have been swept away in an instant. Very quickly, however, the task of controlling the raw energy became increasingly difficult. It clamored to break free in all directions, and corralling it to maintain the barrier demanded every ounce of her willpower and concentration. Her field of vision narrowed as she focused, her ears deaf to the cacophony outside.

Finally, the avalanche passed, leaving them buried deep under the snow. Within the sphere, the only source of light was Miriam herself, her pulsating veins glowing in the darkness.

Lysette let out a sigh of relief, her voice tinged with incredulity. "It seems we've made it," she said, her eyes scanning their surroundings in disbelief. However, her relief quickly turned to caution as she turned her gaze towards Miriam.

"Are you all right?" the Templar inquired carefully, "Your veins look like they're about to burst.”

The mage barely paid her any attention, her mouth was parched, and she felt dizzy from the intense heat that enveloped her. The energy needed to sustain the spell appeared to be absorbing too little of her power. The mark was allowing too much to flow in and too little to escape. The pain became unbearable, a searing agony threatening to immolate her from within. With a strained voice, she gasped, "It's too much! I can't take it!"

Cullen responded with a shout, his face etched with concern, but the words he spoke were lost to her. As her mind became shrouded in an emerald haze, a profound terror overtook her. She sensed her control slipping away, fading into the swirling green mists. Her body erupted into green flames, engulfing her. As if in response, the protective sphere began to expand outward, stretching until it reached the surface and forming an open expanse amidst the snow.

"Make it stop, Andraste, please!" Miriam cried in desperation, reeling and swallowed by the viridescent fire. Even in the midst of her agony, she noticed Cullen approaching her. Yet before he could reach her, she felt something strike her head, and the world swiftly faded to black.

Gradually, the mage began to regain her senses. She found herself lying on a bunk bed inside a tent, her head throbbing at the point of impact, her body sore and drained. The overwhelming sensations of power, agony, and terror had disappeared. What had happened? Where was she? And where were her companions? In her haste to sit up, dizziness overcame her, and she tumbled back onto the bunk.

"Take it easy. That was quite a feat you performed.” She turned her head to see Cullen entering the tent, his expression neutral as he continued, “Cassandra practically didn’t need to do anything when she arrived with our men."

He looked unharmed, with no sign of injuries, which eased some of her anxiety. "Thank the Maker, you're all right. Where are we? What about Lysette?" Miriam asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"We are in the middle of nowhere, alongside the Inquisition forces that currently celebrate our victory," Cullen continued, letting out a sigh. "Though I'm not sure there's much to celebrate. I would have preferred a proper, honest battle, but I suppose Leliana's plan ultimately saved our lives." He settled into a chair opposite her bed. "As for Lysette, she's fine, albeit rather concerned by all the uncontrolled magic you unleashed."

Her brow furrowed in deep thought. The undeniable truth was that she had lost any semblance of control over the mark. Was Andraste trying to say something with this relentless trial? Should she invoke her faith with greater fervor? Was this a stark reminder of the dangers of pride, a humbling lesson in humility? Questions swirled within her, but answers seemed impossible to grasp.

And yet, amid this turmoil, a realization emerged. Perhaps the crux of the matter lay in her insistence on carrying this heavy burden alone. Perhaps it was time to abandon her lonely struggle and seek help. Of all the members within the Inquisition, it was Lysette and Cullen with whom she felt the deepest connection. Her trusted guard would undoubtedly agree, of which she had no doubt. As for the Commander, she couldn't help but believe that he would not refuse her appeal; after all, they were friends, weren't they? The shared trials and tribulations they had endured together surely bore the weight of at least camaraderie in his eyes.

"And you?" she began carefully. "I assume you are concerned about it too."

He paused for a long, strained moment, his eyes locked onto hers. "When you burst into flames, I was prepared to knock you unconscious," he confessed, clasping his hands together tightly. "I would have done it, had Lysette not acted before me. I've witnessed firsthand what untamed magic can unleash... I won't allow it to happen again. Not on my watch."

The revelation left her with a sense of chilling clarity. "Is this the true reason why you chose to remain by my side in Haven?" she couldn't help but ask, her voice hushed.

Cullen nodded solemnly. "With your grasp on the powers of your mark weakening, we needed to ensure that if you lost control, someone would be there to intervene. Leliana was afraid Lysette might hesitate, considering how deeply she cares for you. Though her worries have been in vain, the Knight was swift to act."

Still maintaining eye contact with him, Miriam slowly sat up on her bunk. Her fists clenched. The fact that Cassandra and Leliana had lied to her stung, but the knowledge that Cullen and Lysette had been part of the deception felt like a stab of a dagger. "Am I not considered trustworthy enough to be told your true intentions to my face?" Her voice trembled with the intensity of her emotion. "Did you think I would dismiss your concerns without thought? Yes, I struggle to control the mark, but I had hoped that you of all people would be sympathetic, for you understand the torment of a wavering mind." In her anger, she grabbed the collar of her robe and yanked it apart, exposing the fading bruises on her neck. It was a low blow, driven by her pain and her desire for him to share in that hurt.

Cullen’s gaze drifted to her throat, and his expression turned strained. His hands trembled slightly as he studied the yellow marks on her skin. "I am deeply sorry that I hurt you," he admitted, his voice filled with regret. "It happened because I let my struggles interfere with your task. That won't happen again, you have my word. However, those are two different matters entirely."

"In what way, then, are they different? The power of the mark overcame me, just as the clutches of withdrawal overcame you," she continued to ask, leaning slightly forward.

"Indeed, but the consequence of your magic breaking free..." he insisted, his tone resolute.

"Is that we are all alive and well, while our enemies are buried under the snow," she finished for him. "I'm not saying that I won't try to prevent it from happening or that you shouldn't be vigilant. All I want is your trust, for in my heart, I am certain that Andraste would never bestow upon me powers that would hurt innocents."

Miriam's words hung in the air for a moment as Cullen processed them. He looked down, his expression filled with a mix of emotions. Finally, he met her gaze again and spoke softly, “What about the fact that they are hurting you?"

At his question, her anger dissipated, and she responded with a calmer tone, "As a certain man once told me, 'I shall endure.'"

He looked at her with a hint of confusion, but his face soon lit up with a faint smile. "That man could only endure because he had good people like you to support him."

She nodded. "Then I believe he'd be more than willing to return the favor."

"I am prepared to offer my assistance. But could you elaborate on the nature of the aid you seek?" he replied with readiness, while still obviously harboring some uncertainty about her intentions.

With each passing moment, the weight on the mage’s heart seemed to lift. "Help me to carry the burden of my mark."

Her request caught him off guard. “I am sure Solas would be a better candidate for this task.”

She shook her head. "Though he possesses the knowledge, he doesn’t share my faith, and I find no comfort in his presence. It is you who I desire.”

Cullen's eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting upward, and he was suddenly overtaken by a fit of coughing. Observing his response, she quickly realized how her last words might have sounded, and her cheeks blazed with a fervent blush. She rushed to clarify herself, "I don't desire you, no, I just... Andraste, preserve me!" She exhaled slowly in an attempt to regain composure. "What I meant is that I want your assistance because I consider you a friend."

He nervously rubbed the back of his neck, a faint uncertainty lingering. "I appreciate your esteem, but I must confess, I'm not entirely sure how I can help you."

Miriam, resolute in her way, responded, "I've mentioned before that I draw strength from my friends, so simply be one."

His brow furrowed slightly. "That sounds rather vague."

Her retort held a hint of playful exasperation, "Well, you didn't exactly make my task of helping you easy, so you shouldn't expect any less."

A genuine chuckle escaped Cullen's lips. "You may have a point there."

"So, it's settled then," she declared, extending her marked hand, which emitted a faint glow. She knew he harbored a fear of her magic and had reservations about physical contact. And that's precisely why she did it, wanting tangible proof of his commitment.

Cullen regarded her mark for a moment, his hesitation evident, but he eventually reached out and shook her hand firmly. "That's a deal."