Torch lights flickered and cast long, dancing shadows across the rugged terrain, while the eerie glow of red lyrium illuminated the horizon as far as the eye could see. The night sky was pregnant with heavy, foreboding clouds, their ominous presence threatening to unleash a deluge of snow upon the already treacherous landscape. The silvery moonlight, however, managed to find its way through the thick cover, casting an ethereal glow upon the gathering storm. Despite the biting chill that crept into their bones, no one dared to show any sign of discomfort. For they knew what was coming. The army of the Elder One was on the march, their footsteps drumming a steady beat that reverberated through the very earth beneath their feet.
Evelyn, with her small but determined party, embarked on a treacherous journey towards the nearest trebuchet, hoping to aid in the battle against the encroaching enemy force. As they approached, the heat of battle was palpable, the men and women manning the trebuchet working with frenzied determination to fire off as many volleys of Antivian Fire as possible.
Meanwhile, on the front lines, the commanding officers of the Inquisition, Cullen and Rylen, had finally managed to organize their troops into two shield walls, arranged in a V-shape with Templars and mages strategically dispersed behind them for support. However, the enemy force was not to be underestimated, and they too had formed their own lines, growing larger by the minute. The tension in the air was thick as both sides paused momentarily, their eyes fixed upon the other, steeling themselves for the inevitable clash.
Evelyn's heart pounded inside her chest, as she watched from afar, torn between the strong impulse to rush over and join the fray and her duty to follow her orders. Despite her inner turmoil, she remained steadfast, her eyes trained on the battle ahead, ready to support her allies at a moment's notice. The weight of responsibility and the gravity of the situation hung heavily upon her, but she knew that the fate of the Inquisition and the world at large depended on her unwavering resolve.
For a moment, it seemed as if all the enemy's attention was focused solely on the army of the Inquisition. Evelyn knew that they needed to soften the initial blow and she knew exactly what she needed to do. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the string of feelings connected to her rage, which had been simmering within her ever since the overwhelming threat of violence had descended upon them from the mountains. As she fixated on it, she felt the all-too-familiar sensation of scorching heat envelop her from her mana, the energy within her pulsing and surging with unstoppable force.
Suddenly, the dark landscape was bathed in a brilliant orange flash as the Phoenix's wings burst forth, their fiery glow illuminating the trebuchets' missiles as they rained down upon the enemy below. The flames of torches and braziers sputtered and blazed high, casting the Inquisition in a warm, golden light. Yet, the respite was short-lived, as the vibrant green of the mark's magic surged forth, sapping the flame of its warmth and replacing it with the cool, ethereal glow of veilfire. At the sight, the enemy roared in fury, brandishing their weapons, their blades and staffs glinting in the faint moonlight like a sea of deadly stars.
"Well, now you've done it," Owayne pulled his daggers from his back and she gave a smug shrug.
"Shitting your pants yet, big brother?" Bull and Blackwall gave a hearty laugh looking over at the younger man.
"A good sibling doesn't let their sister do stupid shit alone. Especially, really fucking stupid shit like this." She saw more worry than anything on Owanye's face and decided to stop her teasing. It was easy to forget that despite his skills, he fought skirmishes back in Ostwick, not battles. "Hector's going to kill us."
"He'll have to get in line then." Looking out to the enemy closing on them, she tried to refocus everyone, "We have a plan, let's stick to it. If all else fails we watch each other's back and those manning the trebuchets." Sitting on a nearby barrel were half-drunk tankards of ale, likely abandoned at the sound of the alarm. She took one with a trembling hand and lifted it in cheers. The others were quick to grab one - even the other soldiers looked around for some - and with a clank, downed the ale just in time for the mages to shield them from the first incoming attack.
Defending the men and women firing the siege weapons was manageable, having already built raised fortifications around them, it was protecting the equipment from magic and Red Templar Behemoths which became a challenge. She and Sorin stood out in front of the machines laying waste to anyone below them, while the other three joined by small units of soldiers defended their backs against any who got through. Periodically, as Cullen suggested, she and her team would move between each trebuchet drawing with them the attention of the enemy, changing direction towards them. On their second round to the furthest machine, they found it had been completely overrun as a wave of Venatori and Red Templars crashed into its wooden frame felling it. Before retreating, she looked for any survivors still fighting, but her heart sank when she saw none.
"Change of plans," she yelled to the group, "we hold this next spot and give the soldiers time to retreat!" They looked tired from having to not only fight but run from machine to machine. Sweat streaked down their faces and neck making the splatters of blood run as well. Fighting the Venatori mages was one thing, but the Red Templars were much worse. Their strength was unimaginable and she shuttered to think how long these former men and women of the Order had been subjected to the slow torture of red lyrium. While some looked like the Templars Sampson had corrupted, others were grotesque brutes of various sizes, but all equally as deadly. They were shielded by the lyrium crystals jutting out of them, making their spirit blades one of the few attacks able to get through it. That alone was enough to take her and Sorin off of the offensive, which only served to hasten the demise of each trebuchet.
As the last machine outside the walls fell, she told her team to guard the retreat back to the main lines as she went ahead to inform the Commander, if he hadn't already seen it for himself. Through the fighting, she could see him out on the front line. Of course he was, she thought. Despite the weight of his heavy armor and lion helm, Cullen moved with cat-like agility striking at opponents and felling them with practiced precision. She fade-stepped her way over to him through the heaviest fighting. Not wanting to startle him when she materialized, she impaled the Red Templar he was fighting. While shoving him off her staff with the help of her boot, he flipped up his visor and immediately asked her for a report.
“The trebuchets are overrun, we need to pull back now!" Evelyn yelled over the deafening noise of the battle, her voice hoarse with the effort. She watched as an unsuspecting enemy ran past, only to be caught in a torrent of fire that engulfed him completely. As she spoke, a bolt of lightning crackled towards her, but she was quick to deflect it with a powerful ward and a spin of her staff. The hostile mage was too far away to engage in melee combat, so she began to try out some spells. The first two she fired back were quickly countered, but she refused to give up.
Suddenly, she heard the distinct sound of metal clinking as a visor was shut, and she turned just in time to see the Commander moving to her back to engage an approaching corrupted Templar. Evelyn quickly assessed the situation and decided to focus her attention on the mage. She shot a steady stream of fire at him, hoping to blind him, and then lobbed a fast fireball over the flames. The spell hit its mark, and she watched with grim satisfaction as the enchanter succumbed to the searing heat of the flames. Over her shoulder she heard the brute Cullen engaged mutating as he tried to break through its barrier. Evelyn gritted her teeth as she faced the shimmering monster, her eyes scanning its surface for weak points.
"I can get through it," she called out, and with a quick flick of her wrist, she summoned her spirit blade into her hand, the Everite hilt crackling with magical energy as it ignited. The fiery gold blade hummed with power as she stepped forward. The fiery gold blade sliced through the barrier, causing it to react violently around the spectral blade. The red energy flickered and crackled, sending sparks flying in all directions. Evelyn pushed harder, channeling every ounce of magic she had into the blade. As the energy from the attack surged into the sword, something went terribly wrong. The hilt of the spirit blade began to crumble, unable to withstand the sheer amount of power that she was pouring into it.
Just when it seemed like she couldn't go on any longer, a hand grasped hers. She looked up to see Cullen at her side, his expression fierce with determination. "I've got you," he said, his voice low and steady. Together, they pushed forward, their combined strength enough to finally breach the barrier. The blade sliced through its chest, and the creature let out a howl that echoed through the area. It gurgled and writhed on the ground for a moment before finally crumpling to a lifeless heap.
Evelyn let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding, her body trembling with the exertion of the fight. "Are you okay?" Cullen asked, his voice laced with concern. Before she could answer, the hilt of the sword shattered completely, leaving her holding nothing but a handful of Everite shards. Commander's eyes widened as he saw what was happening, "I have never seen the blade of a Knight Enchanter break before, how is that possible?" She could barely hear him, her mind reeling from the shock of what had just transpired. All she could do was stare at the shattered remains of her once-powerful weapon.
Their respite was cut short when she felt Cullen stagger into her as if hit by something from behind. She heard him wince and realized he had been struck in the back by a glancing blade. Having already spun to meet the attacker's next blow, she could see it wasn't a bad wound, but the sight of blood darkening his already maroon coat triggered a torrent of visions and emotions inside her. She felt her magic become heavy in her limbs as if bottling up. Her fingers flexed as they stiffened and burned for release as the rising need to protect. For one crazy moment, she felt as if she was powerful enough to move the earth. Instinctually listening to her mana, she grabbed her staff off her back and with a great battle cry slammed its blade into the ground. The frozen dirt and rocks broke apart and poured into the large crack snaking its way away from her staff. The sound and the tremble from it were so great those directly around them stopped to see what was happening.
From within the crevice, she felt the fire calling to her. It wasn't the call of the red lyrium, but one of warm familiarity. Fire was in her blood and her very being thanks to her mana and the mutations that came with it. Upon drawing it out of the crack, she was surprised to see that it wasn't flames but lava. With a great uncontrollable eruption, it shot high into the sky. Afraid that it would land on her and Cullen, she attempted to tame it as she did flames holding up her right hand to it. Though immensely more difficult, she found she was able to direct it to her bidding. Compared to flame, controlling the magma felt heavier - if controlling magical elements could be described in such a way. Sweat began to drip down her face at the effort as a very confused Commander caught his breath as he watched her.
"If I told you I never did this before, would that worry you?"
"Yes!" The former Templar yelled back from behind his shield, "however," he blocked an incoming swing from his opponent as the fighting resumed, "I'm too busy to worry about your new and untested magic right now!" He shoved the enemy away with his shield, dispatching them with a devastating stab.
"Good, because I was going to use it anyway!" Raising her arm, a stream of molten lava followed her fluid direction. The string of magma floated before her twisting and swirling about leaving behind droplets that fell away back into the earth. She whipped it about, making contact with a number of the enemy who instantly dropped and screamed in agony as they were burnt to the bone. Their armor counted for nothing against it - against her. She learned quickly that while her hand could move flame, she had to use bigger movements with her body to move its liquid form. This new command required lunges, not steps; full arm gestures, not mere waves of her hands. It was quickly becoming apparent to her that with all the bad the red lyrium brought her, there was also good. Even if it had meant to break her restraint on her mana to fit its own purposes, she was now in command of a higher form of magic because of it - because she won in the end.
The end, she thought, no, not on my watch, not while I am here. She looked around briefly watching her friends and comrades fight for their lives. As a large group of soldiers charged her, she commanded the lava forming it into a large wave that broke out of the crack in the earth over the enemies. Before they could get out of range, the wave crashed over them and they hit the ground lifeless. This new power was instant death. Wave after wave attempted to bring her down, but she continued to wield the magma to devastating effect. Her companions had pulled back and the front line had her at the tip of the spear. She was exhausted, but if this was going to be it, she was going to die knowing she gave her all.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
Morale seemed to improve on seeing the success of her attacks. Cullen was able to rally them and they all fought as one impenetrable shield wall as they watched their Herald and her companions cut down enemy after enemy with their combined efforts. Owayne moved with agility and purpose, smoothly slipping his daggers across throats and between ribs. Bull and Blackwall coordinated watching Evelyn and Sorin's flanks making sure no one got close enough to disturb the symphony of destruction the two were conducting. It was all going well until the enemy had stopped charging. As a hush settled over the battle, one shrieking cry call out from over the mountains. The enemy had pulled back to make way for their dragon.
They were nothing compared to the might of this creature. She snapped her head around looking at Cullen who quickly sounded retreat. To the credit of the Commander’s training, they didn't panic and filed in with more order than she expected given the circumstances. As the last of what was left of the Inquisition's soldiers made it through the gates, she heard Cullen calling for them. She ordered her team to retreat, but not before winged death was upon them. It swooped down delivering their first taste of its black sooty breath, making them dive in all directions. Though it only seemed like smoke, there was a dark power behind it. As she scrambled to her feet, she knew they needed to buy the soldiers time to get into the Chantry.
"Sorin!" He had just gotten to his feet. "I need everything you have!" Her hands made an open circle in front of her chest as she manifested a ball of her mana. Nodding through his exhaustion, he ran to stand across from her doing the same. If it had incinerated demons, she wondered what their combined power would do to this dragon. Quickly she emptied what magic she had left into this growing ball of bright orange light. Sorin's pale purple orb flashed with lighting as he raced to be ready for her signal. As the creature turned and headed back for another strafing run, the two mages moved into position, "Steady. Right as it opens its mouth we fire."
Ignoring the calls from her brother and the others who lingered at the gate of the village, she focused entirely on containing the volatile force between her hands. She heard Sorin let go of a growl between his clenched teeth, but she knew he'd hang on. Feeling her own strength wane, she trembled and let a wince contort her face. Catching his eyes, they consoled each other knowing how taxing it was to hold all your power in your hands leaving yourself dry.
Thankfully the dragon was faster than it looked with its holed wings and the two pushed their orbs together as it barred its teeth at them. They worked to focus the energy into a beam that shot the beast in the chest. Halted by the steady stream of fire and lightning, the dragon screeched as it flapped its large wings trying to turn away, but it was too late. With one last punch, their mana sent the dragon pummeling backward, crashing through the Venatori line. The force of the blast had knocked her and Sorin down as well, too exhausted to withstand it.
It had just felt as if she hit the ground when already she was being dragged and lifted by Bull through the gates of Haven. With the gates shut and barred behind them, the group raced to the Chantry. Inside was wall to wall people as they took shelter from the dragon. She assumed that the basement was full and those who didn't make it down crowded away from the main doors as much as they could. At the doors, they were greeted by a wounded Chancellor Rodrick, who once inside was placed into a chair beside where Bull had put her down on the floor. She pulled her last two vials of lyrium from her pocket, handing one to Sorin before downing hers. Its effects were immediately felt and she stood giving her sore muscles a shake.
"Herald, our position is not good." Cullen pushed through the mass of people, helmet in hand to reach them by the doors. Sweat dampened his hairline causing the hair at his neck to curl. "That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us."
"Could it be an archdemon?" She looked to Blackwall who just shrugged, uncertain.
"I don't care what it is! It's cut a path for that army. They'll kill everyone in Haven. There are no tactics to make this survivable now, but we can choose how to end it. Many do not get that chance." She looked at him hard, hurt that he had given up, but deep down she knew he was just being rational in his advisement. "The avalanche was a good start. If we can turn the remaining trebuchets and cause one final slide--"
"We'll bury Haven and take as many of those bastards with us as we can," she finished definitively for him as the Chantry shook from taking a hit from the dragon.
"There is a path, you wouldn't know it unless you made the Summer Pilgrimage as I have. The people can escape! She must have shown me, Andraste must have shown me so I could tell you."
"What are you on about Roderick?" She turned to face the dying man. His voice had lost its zeal and steadily tapered off the longer he rambled on.
"It was whim that I walked the path, I did not mean to start as it was overgrown. Now with so many at the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers, I don't know. If this simple memory could save us, this could be more than just accident, you could be more."
"What about it, Cullen? Will it work?" She wiped a hand across her dirty face feeling the dried sweat on her.
"Possibly. It seems like our only chance now." He turned from her to order the men to carry the Chancellor so he could show them the path as quickly as they could. As she turned for the doors with her team in tow, Cullen called after her. "Where are you going?"
"To load the trebuchets. That thing is here for me, if it sees me perhaps I can give you the time to get everyone out of here. The Inquisition can live to fight another day."
"Out of the question! What will we-- what will Thedas do without your mark? You need to be the first one out of here if what the Chancellor says is true."
"That dragon and army are not just going to let me leave and likely will kill any survivors with me cutting off your escape!"
"And what of your escape?" She just stared at him with her stubborn resolve. Nothing would dissuade her from this course of action. The Elder One had killed all these people for her and she could do little to protect them. This sacrifice would be her penance. "Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way. You've been quite good at that lately." She smirked at finally hearing some hopeful words coming out of him.
Grabbing handfuls of water from a nearby basin to quench her thirst, she was ready to go. There was, however, one person who she realized had decided to follow her. As Owayne went for the door she yanked him back by a leather strap on his armor, "You're staying."
"The fuck I am! I'm coming with you!"
"No, our parents don't need to lose two children today!" Cullen rejoined them about to say something when Owayne cut him off.
"Evie, you are not going out there alone! How dare you even think that!"
"I can't lose you! Please, go with Cullen, help people get out. If I survive this, I'll need you to come find me, please brother!" She looked hard into his eyes gripping his shoulders to emphasize her words. "Please."
His face twisted with fleeting rage. "You better be waiting for me, or so help you..."
"I'll be waiting," she said with a lopsided grin, "because you and I both know that I'll make a terrible martyr." With that, she let go of him and pivoted to face Cullen, steadying herself on his shoulder as the building shook once more, threatening to collapse at any moment.
"These men will load the trebuchets," the Commander declared, pointing with authority to a group of sturdy men in armor who stood at the ready. "Once the job is done, they'll fall back and join us. From there, you'll be on your own," he continued, emphasizing the gravity of the impending battle. He looked as if he was about to add something important, but his mouth shut abruptly as he changed his mind. "May the Maker watch over you," he said instead, turning to shout orders to the rest of his troops, who looked to him with renewed hope at a chance at life. He turned to her brother saying something she couldn't hear clapping him on the shoulder. With one final look to her, Owayne was swallowed by the crowd having received his orders.
With her sibling and companions gone, she stood alone in the doorway, her heart heavy with a mix of regret and uncertainty. Memories of the past and the what-ifs raced through her mind, causing her to hesitate before moving on. As she stood there, lost in thought, she became aware of Cullen's presence behind her. Turning slowly, she locked eyes with him, and for a moment, they stood there in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. As she gazed into his eyes, she saw a flicker of recognition in his gaze, and she knew that he, too, was wrestling with his own regrets.
Suddenly self-conscious, she felt a fleeting moment of embarrassment at being caught staring, knowing that this could be the last time she would ever see him. But she didn't linger, sensing that time was running out. With a deep breath, she slipped through the crack in the door ready to face whatever destiny Andraste had in store for her Herald.
As they ran through the burning village, the acrid stench of smoke and ash filled her nostrils. It was painful for her to see how the place where she had spent the last months had been reduced to cinders in mere hours. The infirmary that she built with Ilara now lay in ruin, its charred remains scattered haphazardly amidst the destruction. It was unfair, she thought bitterly, how all that they had built and worked so hard for had been destroyed so easily. Yet, there was no time to dwell on the injustice of it all. They had a mission to complete, and they had to do it quickly before the dragon started raining death upon them.
Several red Templars stood in their way, their eyes gleaming with a fanatical zeal. With grim determination, she drew upon the last of her mana and cast an immolation spell buying the soldiers precious seconds to attack first. The clash of swords and the shouts of men echoed through the air. The battle raged on, each side locked in a desperate struggle to gain the upper hand until they finally emerged victorious, the remaining Templars lying in a heap at their feet.
Breathless and battered, they trudged through the battlefield, their eyes fixed on the looming silhouette of the trebuchet. It was a massive weapon of war, its wooden frame bristling with thick ropes and levers. Its presence was a beacon of hope, a promise of salvation amidst the chaos and destruction that raged around them. With a sense of grim determination, she and the men by her side started to load the ammunition, heaving the heavy boulder into place with all their might. She could feel the weight of the stone in her hands, its rough surface pressing against her palms.
Just as they finished their task and aimed the trebuchet, a grotesque figure appeared on the horizon, his dark robes billowing in the wind as the dragon he commanded circled menacingly overhead. The sight sent shivers down her spine, for she knew that this was no ordinary foe they faced. The creature resembled a twisted fusion of a darkspawn and a red Templar with glowing crystals protruding from his decaying gray skin, stretched so taut it looked almost transparent. “Behold the might that is Corypheus,” he announced, sliding towards them with chilling purpose. The soldiers scrambled to retreat but the creature seemed to pay them no mind, his vision fixed solely on the mage. Evelyn was grateful that she was the only target of this monstrosity, for at least the others would not perish because of her.
“What do you want from me?” she demanded, trying to hide her trembling voice. With her mana depleted and no sword to defend herself against this twisted beast and his loyal dragon, the odds were impossibly stacked against her.
The Elder One, now known as Corypheus, went on a diatribe that made his intentions perfectly clear. He sought to become a god, using the mark she had stolen from him to throw open the gates to the Black City and ascend to divinity. In the process, he planned to tear open the veil and destroy the world. Or at least he would have had she not stolen the mark or "anchor" from him.
With a deep breath, she raised her head high and faced the Elder One, her eyes blazing with defiance. She knew she had no chance of winning, but she was not going down without a fight. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned what burst of fire she could, sending a blast toward the magister. The dragon roared in rage, its wings flapping wildly as it descended toward the ground shielding its master. Corypheus was unfazed by the attack and with a brief motion of his hand, he send a bolt of dark energy hurtling towards her. Evelyn leaped to the side narrowly avoiding the attack. She knew that she couldn't keep this up for long, but she needed to buy her people time. With fierce determination, she unleashed a barrage of spells, but with her mana so low, each one was weaker than the last. Corypheus reflected them all with ease, seemingly enjoying her futile attempts to fight against him. He raised his hand once more, summoning a wave of red light that sent Evelyn hurtling backwards. She crashed to the ground, her vision swimming as she struggled to catch her breath.
The ancient magister, his eyes blazing, revealed a hidden metal orb that seemed to pulse with malevolent energy. Red lightning sparked and crackled around it, illuminating the dark of the night with an eerie glow. "The process of removing the anchor begins now," he declared, his voice deep and commanding.
With a swift gesture, he held out his hand, and the orb magic connected with the mark on Evelyn's hand. The woman cried out in agony as the pain rippled through her body. She felt as though every nerve ending was on fire, and she struggled to remain conscious. The magister's magic was a force to be reckoned with, and the pull was almost too much to bear. She found herself desperately digging her fingers into the ground to try and resist. But it was no use. The monster's power was too great, and he slowly drew her towards him, as though she were a mere puppet on a string. As she gasped and writhed in pain, she felt the hot breath of the magister's pet dragon at her back. Evelyn wondered if he meant to feed her to the beast once he had taken the anchor.
"It is your fault, Herald," Corypheus hissed, his eyes flashing with anger. "You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose. I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as touched, what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens. And you used the anchor to undo my work. The gall!"
"What is this thing meant to do?" She gritted out through the pain, clutching at her wrist with her right hand.
"It is meant to bring certainly where there is none." He menacingly approached and picked her up by the marked hand holding her off the ground. As close as she was she could feel the red lyrium pulse from him. "I once breached the Fade in the name of another to serve the old gods of the Empire in person." As he continued to speak about the Black City and other alleged blasphemies, Evelyn tried to keep her wit about her. She had yet to have any sign that the Inquisition had escaped, she had to hold on until then. Suddenly the Elder One yelled in frustration. With inhuman strength, he threw her against the trebuchet. Her head and back hit with a solid thud against the wooden frame. "The anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling. So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give the world the nation and god it requires." In the far distance a faint, but clear flare when up. Thank the Maker they made it! "I will not suffer a rival, even an unknowing one. You must die."
With a wry smile, she addressed the imposing figure before her, "I must say, talking to an ugly bastard like you has been quite an experience. Savor your triumph, for I have a parting gift for you." With a fierce determination burning in her heart, she raised her hand and channeled her energy into the weapon of war. The trebuchet trembled and creaked as it readied itself for its final act of destruction, a powerful symbol of the might and resilience of those who fought against the dark forces that threatened to consume their world. As it fired its explosive load high into the mountainside the force of the hit coupled with the volatile missiles sent a shockwave rippling through the snowy peaks of the Frostbacks.
She held her breath watching to see if it was enough to start the avalanche, and surely enough by some miracle, it was. A low rumble was heard and felt, but it quickly picked up speed. Jumping from the platform and wincing as she landed, screams echoed from out in the valley. She ignored the darkspawn magister as she fled back toward Haven looking for shelter. Looking behind briefly she saw she only had a few seconds to make a decision before she would be swept away. To her right she noticed the excavation entrance to the older part of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Parts of it ran under Haven and Leliana had been looking into what secrets the long-forgotten cult had left behind.
Ignoring her wounds and the deafening sound of death coming for her she sprinted for the boarded-up hole. Bracing herself she crashed through the wood, never stopping her run until the ground was no longer under her feet. It had been so dark on entry that her eyes didn’t adjust to the pitch black before she fell down a shaft into the ruins. Looking at where she fell from, the light was suddenly blocked out by the avalanche. A blow to her back knocked the wind out of her slowing her descent as she flipped and tumbled down the rest of the way hitting off wooden supports and the rocky walls of the shaft. An abrupt jarring impact seemed to finally stop her. The blur of her vision was sickening, as was the pain coursing through her entire body. It wasn't long before her vision darkened and narrowed as she felt a hot buzzing pressure in her ears and face. Too weak to put up much of a fight, she slowly succumbed to the dark wondering if she entombed herself in the place that once held Andraste.