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The final stretch of the march on the windswept plateau. The tower itself was a jagged silhouette against the twilight sky, its torchlit windows casting long, flickering shadows. From within, the faint sound of chanting carried on the wind.
As they stood before the looming tower, a familiar pulse of energy surged through Daniel's body. His vision swam momentarily as golden text flickered before his eyes:
[Level Up!]
[Current Level: 3]
[Next Level: 1500 EXP Required]
[Current EXP: 18]
A rush of warmth spread through his limbs, like sunlight soaking into tired muscles. The mark on his hand flared briefly before settling, its energy humming with renewed strength.
Then Daniel closed his eyes, focusing inward. His mind's eye conjured a spectral interface—a branching tree of skills, some glowing with readiness, others shrouded in mist. The Winter path called to him, its icy sigil pulsing with potential. Without hesitation, he reached for it, selecting Winter's Grasp.
[Skill Acquired: Winter's Grasp]
[Lock a target in a sheet of ice, freezing it in place.]
[Effect:]
[200% Weapon Damage (Ice)]
[Freeze Duration: 4 seconds]
[Chill Duration: 8 seconds]
The knowledge settled into his bones like frost crystallizing on glass. He could almost feel the cold gathering in his palm, waiting to be unleashed.
As they approached the iron gates of Winterwatch, two noblewomen stood to the side, their fine silks stark against the grim surroundings. The younger of the two—a lady with raven-black hair and hollow eyes—spoke softly to her companion.
"Look. Even the Inquisition soldiers are here."
Her handmaiden fretted. "Yes, My Lady. But you should head back to your family's estate. This is no place—"
"There's nothing to go back to," the lady interrupted, her voice brittle. "Not anymore."
Before Daniel could inquire further, the gates groaned open. A woman stood framed in the torchlight, her robes the color of dried blood, her gaze piercing.
"I know you," she said, her voice carrying the cadence of a practiced orator. "They call you the 'Herald of Andraste' after what you did at Haven." Her lips curled slightly. "But are you?"
Daniel met her gaze evenly. "I'm the Herald of Andraste."
Anais's eyes gleamed. "Do you claim to hold the power to seal the rifts that the Maker has opened in the sky?"
"Yes. I can seal the rifts."
"Then prove it." She spread her arms, the sleeves of her robe fluttering like wings. "Show me that the rifts bend to your will—the will of the Maker. Show me the power you wield."
With a gesture, she ordered the gates fully opened. Beyond the courtyard that littered with people, there's a a place beyond it and above them, a Fade rift pulsed, its emerald light casting grotesque shadows.
Daniel stepped forward, but Cassandra caught his arm. "This is a trap."
Solas's voice was low. "Or a test. One we cannot refuse."
Varric hefted Bianca. "Either way, we're gonna have to fight our way out."
Before entering, Daniel turned back to Anais. "What is your cult doing out here? What do you think is happening?"
Anais's smile was beatific. "The Chantry has fallen, and in doing so, revealed its imperfection. The Chant of Light was a lie." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "It was arrogance to think mortal lips could frame the Maker's will. And so we wait in silence." She gazed up at the Breach, her face alight with fervor. "The Maker has opened the sky. Soon, He will call His chosen back to the Golden City."
The courtyard of Winterwatch Tower was a surreal tapestry of devotion and despair. Cultists knelt in haphazard circles, their hands raised toward the Breach as they murmured prayers that slithered through the air like serpents. Others sat in silence, their eyes fixed on the swirling void above with expressions caught between rapture and terror. The scent of burning herbs mixed with the metallic tang of the Fade, creating a heady, unsettling atmosphere.
Solas's voice was low as they moved through the throng. "I suppose it's only natural that some would turn to worship the Breach... if only in hopes of appeasing it." His gaze flicked to a woman rocking back and forth, her fingers clawing at a tattered Chantry robe. "Fear breeds fanaticism as surely as it breeds violence."
Daniel didn't respond. His attention was fixed on the path ahead—a set of worn stone stairs leading down into a sunken cave but there still light from the sub. The earth here was freshly turned, and above it all, the rift pulsed like a sickly green heart, its light casting long, twisted shadows across the graves.
Then the air cracked.
The rift convulsed, a shockwave of energy rippling outward. From its depths, three Terror demons emerged, their emerald skin glistening, their elongated limbs unfolding like grotesque marionettes. The nearest cultists screamed and scattered, but the demons paid them no mind. Their hollow eyes locked onto Daniel and his party.
Cassandra didn't hesitate. "Shield wall!" she barked, and the Inquisition soldiers snapped into formation, their shields interlocking with a thunderous clang. The first Terror lunged, its claws screeching against the steel barrier.
Daniel acted on instinct. He raised his staff, the new knowledge of Winter's Grasp surging through him. Frost gathered at his fingertips, then erupted in a jagged lance of ice that struck the nearest Terror square in the chest.
The effect was immediate.
The demon froze, its body encased in a cocoon of glittering ice. For four precious seconds, it was immobilized—long enough for Varric's bolt to shatter its skull like glass.
"Nice trick!" Varric called, already reloading.
Daniel didn't pause. "Chain Lightning!"
The spell arced between the remaining Terrors, their bodies convulsing as the electricity ravaged them. Solas followed up with a well-placed Mind Blast, sending one crashing to its knees, its psychic wail echoing through the graveyard.
Cassandra's sword finished it, her blade shearing through its neck in a single, brutal stroke.
The last Terror fell moments later, its body dissolving into foul-smelling smoke.
The respite was brief.
The rift pulsed again, its energy surging like a wounded beast. Four more Terrors emerged, their forms larger, their movements more erratic. One lashed out instantly, its claws carving through a soldier's chest before anyone could react. The man fell without a sound.
"Barrier!" Daniel shouted, weaving protective magic around Cassandra and the nearest fighters. The shimmering dome flared to life just as another Terror's claws raked against it—holding, but barely.
Solas's voice cut through the chaos. "Their minds! Target their minds!"
Daniel understood. He cast Winter's Grasp again, this time aiming for the lead Terror's head. The ice encased its skull, freezing its synapses mid-thought. The creature staggered, confused—
Varric's bolt took it through the eye.
Cassandra rallied the soldiers, her voice unwavering. "Push forward! Don't let them flank us!""
The battle became a blur of steel and spellwork. Daniel's mana reserves dwindled, his spells growing weaker, but he forced himself onward. A Terror lunged at him—only to be intercepted by Solas's Fade Step, the elven mage appearing in a burst of frost to drive his staff through its ribs.
When the last demon fell, the rift shuddered violently, its edges fraying like torn cloth.
"Now!" Solas urged.
Daniel didn't need telling twice. He raised his marked hand, the green energy within it flaring in response to the rift. The pain was immediate and searing—like his bones were being pulled apart—but he gritted his teeth and pulled.
The rift resisted. It fought, its energy lashing out like a cornered animal. For a heartbeat, Daniel feared it wouldn't yield—
Then, with a sound like shattering glass, it collapsed in on itself, vanishing in a burst of emerald light.
Silence.
Then—
[177 EXP Gained]
[Obtained: Silk Handkerchief]
[Obtained: Fire Essence]
Daniel exhaled sharply, flexing his marked hand. The skin around it was blistered, but the pain was already fading.
As the last wisps of the rift dissipated, Daniel's eyes caught on a chest half-buried in the disturbed earth near where the rift had been. The wood was splintered, the lock rusted through—likely tossed aside during the chaos. He pried it open, revealing a staff of dark oak capped with a bronze ferrule, its core pulsing with latent heat.
His interface flickered to life:
[Obtained: Disciple Fire Staff]
[Common Rank]
[22 Fire Damage]
[+3% Critical Chance]
Varric let out an appreciative whistle as Daniel hefted the weapon. "That'll leave a mark. Bit flashier than your last one."
Solas examined the staff with a critical eye. "Tevinter design, if I'm not mistaken. Likely looted from a Circle storeroom."
Daniel rotated the staff in his hands, feeling the weight of it. The warmth radiating from its core was comforting, like holding a living ember. He stowed his old staff and nodded. "Let's go report to Anais."
The climb back up the stone stairs was eerily silent. The cultists who had once ignored them now watched with wide, reverent eyes. As they reached the top, a murmur swept through the crowd—whispers of "Herald" and "Andraste's chosen." Some knelt. Others pressed their foreheads to the ground.
Speaker Anais approached, her earlier skepticism replaced by something far more unsettling: fervent devotion. Her hands trembled as she reached out, though she stopped short of touching Daniel.
"Maker's tears!" she breathed. "I was a fool to have doubted you." She bowed deeply, her voice trembling.""How may we serve you, Herald of Andraste?"
Daniel exchanged glances with Cassandra, whose expression was a mix of disgust and grim satisfaction. He chose his words carefully. "Have your believers spread the word of the Inquisition."
Anais clasped her hands together. "As you say, Herald. Some few will remain here to tend this holy site. The rest will go forth to do your will." Her eyes shone with tears. "When the Maker calls you to your great purpose, remember that we served you."
Varric muttered under his breath, "Well, that's not terrifying at all."
Daniel pressed on. "Is there a man named Hyndel here?"
Anais nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes! He labors on the second level of the tower, refining his alchemy." She gestured toward a shadowed archway leading deeper into the structure. "This way, Herald."
The interior of the tower was drafty, the stone walls blackened by centuries of torch smoke. Anais led them to a cramped chamber dominated by a wooden ladder leading upward. "Climb this," she instructed. "Hyndel awaits above."
Cassandra eyed the rickety ladder skeptically but said nothing. One by one, they ascended.
The second floor was a stark contrast to the cult's fervor below. Shelves lined with jars of herbs and tinctures covered the walls, and the air smelled of elfroot and burnt sugar. At a cluttered table in the center of the room, an elven man hunched over a bubbling alembic, his fingers stained with dye and his brow furrowed in concentration.
Daniel stepped forward. "Are you Hyndel?"
The man—Hyndel—jerked upright, knocking over a vial of something that hissed as it hit the floor. "I greet you," he said warily. Then, realizing who stood before him, he paled. "Y-Yes. I'm Hyndel."
Daniel cut to the heart of it. "Your mother can't breathe. Your father sent me for the potion."
Hyndel's face crumpled. "What!? She was fine! She hasn't had the breathing trouble in..." He swallowed hard, then spun back to his table, knocking aside bottles in his haste. "Alright. I can help."
For several tense minutes, the only sounds were the clink of glass and the hiss of boiling liquid. Hyndel worked with frantic precision, grinding dried spindleweed into powder, adding drops of a shimmering blue liquid, and muttering under his breath. Finally, he decanted the mixture into three small vials, their contents glowing faintly in the dim light.
He thrust them at Daniel. "Here! I've finished as much as I can. Go, take it to her now!"
Daniel tucked the vials carefully into his belt pouch. "Don't worry. We'll get it to her as soon as we finish our business here."
Hyndel's hands shook. "You don't understand—this isn't just elfroot and honey. It needs to be taken within a day, or it loses potency." His voice cracked. "If she's already struggling..."
Cassandra stepped in. "Lieutenant!"
The grizzled officer appeared at the ladder's edge. "Seeker?"
"Take two men and ride for the Crossroads. Deliver these to the elven couple near the healer's tent." She handed him the vials. "Do not stop for anything."
The lieutenant saluted and disappeared down the ladder.
Hyndel sagged against the table, his relief palpable. "Thank you." Then, hesitantly: "Is she... is she really that bad?"
Daniel didn't sugarcoat it. "Yes."
The alchemist's face darkened. "Damn this war. Damn all of it."
As Hyndel slumped into a chair, Daniel's gaze drifted to the other side of the tower. Anais had called this a "holy site." He wondered what other secrets Winterwatch was hiding.
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Name : Daniel Carter
Race: Elf
Level 3 : 195/1500 EXP
Professions: Mage
Gold Coins: 814 Coins
Weapon: Staff of the Dragon
Armor: Light Armor of the Dragon and Templar Scribe Scowl
Accessories: Lifeward Amulet
Inventory: Acolyte Ice Staff, Morning Star, Stiletto, Hunting Longbow, Fire Resistance Cowl, Mercenary Coat, Acolyte Fire Staff, Disciple Lighting Staff, Sigil of the Gamordan Stromrider, Apprentice Armor, Qunari Battleaxe, Amulet of Magic, Raider Hatchet, and Disciple Fire Staff
Crafting Materials: 27 Elfroot, 44 Iron, 2 Blue Vitriol, 1 Dawn Lotus, 9 Silk, 2 Lambswool, 1 Royal Elfroot, 10 Ram Leather, 10 Drakestone, and 2 Fire Essence
Valuables: 2 Aquamarine, Silver Bracelet, 2 Figurine of Maferath the Betrayer, 2 Shadow Essence,
Gurn Gallstone Charm, Braid of Rank, Glass Halla, 1 Weapon Fragment, 1 Silver Necklace, 1 Ram Horn, 1 Bride's Blood Vial, and 1 Silk Handerchief
Potions: Lesser Health Potions x8, Lesser Regeneration Potions x5, and x5 Lyrium Potion
Skills: Chain Lighting, Flashfire, Barrier, and Winter's Grasp
Armor Schematics: Shokra-taar Schematic, Antaam-saar Schematic, Avvar Armor Schematics Acquired, Stone-Bear Armor Schematics, Vanguard Coat Schematic,
Weapon Schematics: Curved Dagger Schematic
Potion Recipe: Lesser Regeneration Potion recipe and Lyrium Potion Recipe