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The others nodded, and together, they descended the tavern stairs, stepping back into the ruined courtyard. The wind had picked up, carrying the scent of distant rain. Somewhere above, the Breach pulsed, a constant reminder of the chaos still unfolding.
The courtyard was eerily quiet as they stepped back into the open air, the wind carrying whispers of the past through the broken stone. Speaker Anais stood waiting near the tower's entrance, her hands clasped together, her earlier fervor tempered by something softer—respect, perhaps, or the dawning realization of what their presence truly meant.
"Herald," she said, bowing her head. "You have honored us with your presence. The Maker's will is clear now."
Daniel nodded, though the title still sat uncomfortably on his shoulders. "We're leaving. Your people should stay safe—spread the word, but don't throw your lives away."
Anais's lips pressed into a thin smile. "As you command. Some of us will remain to tend this place. The rest will carry your light to the world."
Varric muttered under his breath, "Yeah, let's hope they don't take that too literally."
Cassandra shot him a warning glance, but Anais either didn't hear or chose to ignore it. Instead, she stepped aside, motioning toward the path leading out of Winterwatch. "Go with the Maker's blessing, Herald."
With that, they turned away, the handful of Inquisition soldiers who had waited outside falling into step behind them. The descent from the tower was easier than the climb, though the air grew colder as they moved, the sky darkening with the promise of another storm.
They hadn't gone far when the statues came into view—four weathered figures carved from stone, standing in a half-circle just beyond the tower's outer walls. Time had worn their features smooth, but their postures remained, hands outstretched as if in offering or supplication.
"Chantry folk used to leave tributes here," Solas observed, running a hand along the base of one statue. "Before this place became a refuge for zealots."
Daniel's gaze swept the area, his perception prickling again. Then he saw it—a body slumped against the farthest statue, clad in the remnants of templar armor.
The man was long dead, his skin pale and waxy, his head lolled to the side. In his stiffened fingers was a small vial—a phylactery, its glass clouded but unbroken.
Daniel crouched, carefully prying it free. The liquid inside had darkened with age, but something about it hummed faintly, a remnant of magic clinging stubbornly to existence.
He unstopped it, and a slip of parchment, tightly rolled, slid into his palm.
The ink was faded, the handwriting shaky, as if written by someone in the throes of exhaustion—or despair.
---
Ellendra,
I don't know how this will reach you, but with the last strength of my shaking hands, what else could I do but write you?
Whether it be the magic of this cursed Breach or the Maker punishing me for abandoning my vows, the end is coming. The terrors are with me more often than not. I came up here to try to find some peace with these believers, but the platitudes they mouth are cold comfort. If my mind falls to demons or my own darkness, I fear that even a weakened templar will cause too much harm. I took a draught of bitter herbs. It will be over soon.
I wish my weakness had not stopped me from meeting you. With your phylactery, I knew just where you were, but the madness of your side and mine was too great a gap.
Maker save you. Stay safe. You need no Circle if you carry it within you.
Love,
Mattrin
---
The words hung in the air, heavy with regret.
Varric exhaled sharply. "Well, shit."
Cassandra's jaw tightened, but she said nothing.
Solas's expression was unreadable. "A templar who abandoned his order, only to find no solace in faith."
Daniel rolled the parchment back up, tucking it into his belt alongside the phylactery. "We should take this. If Ellendra's still alive, she deserves to know what happened to him."
"Assuming she wants to know," Varric pointed out. "Not every story has a happy ending."
"No," Daniel agreed. "But she should have the choice."
Cassandra nodded. "Justice demands that much, at least."
The wind picked up again, howling through the statues like a lament. Above them, the Breach pulsed, a jagged scar across the sky.
Daniel straightened, casting one last glance at the dead templar. "Let's go."
They left the statues behind, the weight of another lost story settling on their shoulders.
The path back down the tower was narrower than Daniel remembered, the wooden stairs groaning under their weight as they descended into the dim, musty interior. The air smelled of damp wood and old blood, a lingering reminder of the cultists who had once occupied this place. Their footsteps echoed hollowly against the stone walls, the only sound besides the occasional creak of the structure settling around them.
Varric kept one hand on Bianca, his crossbow at the ready. "You know, I've got a bad feeling about this," he muttered, his eyes scanning the shadows.
Cassandra didn't glance back, but her grip tightened on her sword. "Your feelings are rarely wrong when it comes to trouble."
Solas, walking just behind Daniel, said nothing, but the faint glow of his staff told Daniel he was already preparing for a fight.
They didn't have to wait long.
The first templar came out of nowhere, his blade flashing in the dim light as he lunged from a side passage. Cassandra reacted instantly, her shield slamming into him with enough force to send him staggering back.
"Ambush!" she barked, just as three more armored figures surged forward, their swords drawn.
The narrow stairwell became a battleground in seconds. The templars—rogues, their armor stripped of insignias, their eyes wild with desperation—fought like cornered animals. They weren't here to negotiate. They wanted *up*, toward the tower, toward whatever twisted salvation they thought awaited them.
Cassandra and the Inquisition soldiers formed a wall, shields locked, forcing the attackers to funnel into them. The confined space worked in their favor—the templars couldn't flank them, couldn't overwhelm them with numbers.
Which left the rest to Varric, Solas, and Daniel.
Varric didn't hesitate. Bianca sang, a bolt embedding itself in the throat of the nearest templar before he could raise his sword. The man choked, crumpling to his knees.
Solas's magic was quieter but no less deadly. A flick of his wrist, and the air itself seemed totwist around the second attacker, his limbs locking as if bound by invisible chains. He barely had time to scream before Daniel was on him, his staff humming as he drove the bronze ferrule into the man's chest. The templar's armor blackened, the smell of scorched metal filling the air.
The third templar, seeing his comrades fall, roared and charged—only for Cassandra to pivot, her blade slicing clean through his guard. He fell without another sound.
Silence returned as quickly as it had been broken.
Daniel exhaled, his hands trembling slightly from the rush of battle. His interface flickered to life:
[60 EXP Gained]
[3 Rogue Templars Defeated]
Varric whistled, reloading Bianca. "Well, that was a warm welcome."
Cassandra wiped her blade clean on the fallen templar's tabard. "They were trying to reach the tower. Why?"
Solas stepped over one of the bodies, his expression unreadable. "Desperation makes men seek out strange allies. Perhaps they thought the cultists could offer them protection."
"Or power," Daniel muttered, thinking of the artifact they'd activated. If word had spread about its effects, it might draw all kinds of desperate souls.
Cassandra sheathed her sword. "We should keep moving."
They continued downward, the air growing colder as they neared the base of the tower. The last of the wooden stairs gave way to packed earth, and soon they stepped out into the open again, the ruins of the lower courtyard stretching before them.
They hadn't taken more than a few steps when a group of figures came rushing toward them—not enemies, but refugees, their faces gaunt with exhaustion and fear.
The leader, a middle-aged woman with a dirt-streaked face and a tattered shawl, skidded to a halt in front of Daniel, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Please!" she begged, her voice cracking. "You're with the Inquisition, aren't you? You have to help us!"
Daniel steadied her with a hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong?"
She pointed frantically toward the border gate in the distance. "The rifts! They've opened right in front of the gate—we can't get through! Every time we try, the demons—" She broke off, shuddering.
Behind her, a child clutched at her skirts, his eyes wide with terror.
Cassandra didn't hesitate. "Show us."
The refugees led them to a rise overlooking the border crossing—or what *should* have been a crossing. Instead, the path was blocked by a massive rift, its emerald light pulsing like a sickly heartbeat. Tendrils of energy lashed out from it, and already, the twisted forms of demons could be seen clawing their way into the world. Shades, their elongated limbs twitching, prowled near the edges, while a pair of Terror demons hovered just beyond, their jagged forms flickering in and out of existence.
Varric cursed under his breath. "Well, that's a problem."
Daniel's mark flared in response to the rift's presence, a sharp, electric pain shooting up his arm. He clenched his fist, willing it to settle.
The refugee woman—Marta, she'd said her name was—wrung her hands. "We were trying to leave Hinterlands, but now we're trapped here. If those things spread—"
"They won't," Daniel said, cutting her off before panic could take hold. He turned to Cassandra. "We need to clear this. Now."
She nodded, already drawing her sword. "Agreed."
Solas's staff glowed brighter, his eyes fixed on the rift. "The Veil is thin here. We must be cautious—more demons will come as we fight."
Varric cracked his neck. "Yeah, yeah. Just like old times."
Daniel took a deep breath, then raised his staff. "Then let's get to work."
The moment Daniel raised his staff, the rift pulsed, a sickly green light flaring like a dying star. The air itself seemed to scream as the tear in the Veil widened, vomiting forth a fresh wave of horrors.
Wraiths came first—ghostly, shrieking things with elongated claws that raked the air as they surged forward. Behind them, the ground split, molten rock bubbling up as two massive, hunched figures pulled themselves free. Their bodies were made of living flame, their forms shifting between something vaguely humanoid and a writhing mass of fire and hatred.
"Rage demons!" Solas called, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Do not let them close!"
Cassandra didn't hesitate. "Shield wall!" she barked, and the Inquisition soldiers snapped into formation, their heavy shields locking together just as the first wraiths crashed into them. The creatures wailed as steel met spectral flesh, their forms flickering under the assault.
Varric was already moving, Bianca singing as bolt after bolt punched through the wraiths' incorporeal forms. "Yeah, no, I hatet hese things!"
Daniel gritted his teeth and pushed with his magic. Chain Lightning arced from his fingertips, jumping from demon to demon, their shrieks rising in pitch as the electricity seared through them. One wraith exploded into black mist, then another—but the Rage demons were still coming, their molten footsteps leaving the earth scorched in their wake.
Solas's staff flashed, and a wall of ice erupted from the ground, cutting off one of the Rage demons. The creature howled as its flames sputtered against the sudden cold, buying them precious seconds.
"Daniel!" Cassandra shouted, her sword cleaving through a wraith that had slipped past the soldiers. "We need barriers!"
He didn't need to be told twice. With a sharp gesture, he threw a shimmering barrier over Cassandra and the front line just as the second Rage demon barreled into them. The shield held, but barely—the heat radiating from the demon was enough to make the air waver, and Daniel could already feel his mana straining.
"Flashfire!" he snapped, slamming the butt of his staff into the ground. A concussive blast of flame erupted around him, engulfing the nearest wraiths and sending them reeling. One of the Rage demons staggered, its form flickering—but it didn't go down.
Varric cursed. "Oh, come on!"
Then the rift pulsed again.
The tear in the Veil shuddered, and more demons poured forth—three Shades this time, their twisted limbs scuttling across the ground like spiders, and another Rage demon, its roar shaking the earth.
Daniel's stomach dropped. "We can't keep this up!"
Solas's voice was calm, but there was an edge to it now. "We don't have a choice."
Cassandra didn't waste words. She charged, her blade a silver blur as she met the first Shade head-on. The demon screeched as she carved through it, her movements precise, brutal. The soldiers followed her lead, their shields slamming into the next wave of wraiths.
Daniel's mana was running dangerously low, but he pushed through, throwing another Chain Lightning into the fray. The electricity crackled through the Shades, making them convulse—but the Rage demon was still coming, its molten fists slamming into the ground hard enough to send tremors through the earth.
Varric's bolts found their mark, one after another, but the demons just kept coming.
Then Solas did something Daniel had never seen before.
The elf's staff glowed a deep, eerie blue, and the air around him warped. With a single, fluid motion, he pulled, and the Veil itself seemed to tear—not wider, but shut, the rift's energy momentarily flickering as if yanked by an invisible hand.
The demons screamed.
It was the opening they needed.
Daniel didn't hesitate. He ran, his mark flaring as he reached for the rift. The pain was instant, white-hot, like his arm was being dipped in molten metal—but he didn't stop.
His hand closed around the tear in reality.
And he pulled.
The world exploded in green light.
For a heartbeat, Daniel thought he might be ripped apart—the rift fought him, thrashing like a living thing, the demons still tied to it shrieking as they were dragged back into the Fade. The ground trembled, the air itself howling in protest—
Then, with a final, deafening crack, the rift collapsed.
Silence.
Daniel staggered, his knees nearly giving out. His arm burned, the mark's energy slowly fading back to a dull throb. Around him, the last remnants of the demons dissolved into smoke, their forms unraveling as the rift sealed shut.
His interface flickered to life:
[Rift Closed!]
[512 EXP Gained
[Obtained: Dreamer Rag – Research Material]
[Obtained: Enhanced Whirlwind Ring – Rare Rank (Warrior Only)]
[+30% Ability Damage]
[Obtained: Fire Essence – Crafting Material]
Varric let out a low whistle, lowering Bianca. "Well. That was *something*."
Cassandra was breathing hard, her sword still dripping with demon ichor, but she nodded in approval. "Good work."
Solas, meanwhile, was studying Daniel with an unreadable expression. "Your control over the mark improves."
Daniel flexed his hand, wincing at the lingering pain. "Yeah. Still hurts like hell, though."
The refugees, who had been watching from a safe distance, slowly crept forward, their faces a mix of awe and relief. Marta, the woman who had begged for their help, stepped forward, her hands clasped together.
"You… you really did it," she whispered.
Daniel managed a tired smile. "Told you we would."
As the adrenaline began to fade, Daniel turned his attention to the spoils of battle. The Dreamer Rag was a strange thing—a tattered strip of cloth that seemed to shift colors when he looked at it too long. Solas took it with quiet interest, murmuring something about studying its connection to the Fade.
The Fire Essence was more straightforward—a small, glowing orb of concentrated flame, warm to the touch. Useful for crafting, no doubt.
But it was the ring that caught his attention.
The Enhanced Whirlwind Ring was a heavy band of dark metal, its surface etched with intricate, swirling patterns that seemed to move when the light hit them just right. The moment Daniel touched it, he could feel the power thrumming within it—raw, aggressive energy meant for warriors who lived by the sword.
He turned to Cassandra. "This is yours."
She blinked, taken aback. "Me?"
"You're the only warrior here," he pointed out, tossing it to her. "And I'd rather you hit harder than whatever's trying to kill us."
Cassandra caught it easily, examining the ring with a critical eye before sliding it onto her finger. The moment it settled into place, the etchings flared briefly with a deep red light, then faded.
She flexed her hand, testing the weight of it. Then, without warning, she swung her sword in a wide arc—and the air itself rippled with the force of the blow, a visible gust of wind following the blade's path.
Varric let out an impressed whistle. "Well, that's new."
Cassandra's lips quirked into a rare, almost smug smile. "This will do nicely."
With the rift closed and the path clear, the refugees wasted no time gathering their belongings and hurrying through the gate, their voices hushed with gratitude. Marta lingered just long enough to press a small, hand-carved charm into Daniel's palm—a crude depiction of Andraste, worn smooth from years of handling.
"For luck," she said quietly. Then she was gone, herding the others toward safety.
Daniel tucked the charm into his belt, oddly touched.
Varric clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, hero. Let's get moving before another rift decides to open up on top of us."
Cassandra nodded, already striding ahead. "Let's us continue."
Solas fell into step beside Daniel, his voice low. "You handled yourself well."
Daniel shrugged. "Had good backup."
The elf's expression was unreadable, but there was something almost… approving in his gaze.
The road ahead stretched long, the sky still stained by the Breach's eerie glow. But for now, at least, they'd bought these people a chance.
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Name : Daniel Carter
Race: Elf
Level 3 : 811/1500 EXP
Professions: Mage
Gold Coins: 1140 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, Disciple Fire Staff, Amulet of Willpower, Apprentice Mail, and Qunari Buckler
Crafting Materials: 27 Elfroot, 44 Iron, 2 Blue Vitriol, 1 Dawn Lotus, 11 Silk, 3 Lambswool, 1 Royal Elfroot, 10 Ram Leather, 10 Drakestone, 3 Fire Essence, 3 Blue Vitriol, and 3 Canine Leather
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, 1 Silk Handerchief, 1 Glass Fox, 1 Silver Earring, and 1 Dreamer Rag
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
Bottles of Thedas: Vint-9 Rowan's Rose