Through the Smoke

The moments after the conclave's eruption were spent in abject terror.

Pain and fear tainted the sky like heavy rain. Cullen's breath stole from him. He didn't have time for disbelief, not after the Chantry in Kirkwall. While those around him still gaped, Cullen gathered what men would listen to his bark and began to search the rubble. There'd been a woman at the center. Perhaps they could yet salvage this.

Demons spilled into the air. Rage oozed thickly across the ice and terror writhed about. Despair lunged for Cullen and he cleaved it without pause. He'd lived through demonic invasion and he would survive again.

Cassandra cut her way to him, sword and shield stained in ichors. Worse was her face, eyes wide and desperate and her mouth a broken snarl. The demons flocked to her. Cullen's veins stung when he tried to smite them off. Without lyrium he was cut off from abilities that were second nature. It felt like taking a step that had always been there to find it gone, spinning into nothing.

No matter. He knew how to wield a weapon and that mattered more than any hindrance. His sword feeling heavier than ever, he hacked his way to her.

"There were two women in the center," Cassandra panted when the last demon was slain.

"It was Andraste," said one of the men. Everyone's eyes went to him and if anything, it bolstered him. "I'm sure it was Andraste. I saw her reaching out to the other woman."

Cassandra's eyes met Cullen's but he didn't have time to dissect it. They had to push on. There were survivors to rescue, rebel mages to corner and the tare in the sky was only growing.

"Have you seen Leliana yet?"

"She may be at the center," said Cassandra's dwarf, Tethras. "I wouldn't put it past her to already be at the bottom of this."

He was trying to make light of the situation but Cullen saw the same consuming fear in him as in everyone else. Only, he waded through it better. Cullen reminded himself that Tethras had been in Kirkwall, too. He was Hawke's friend. He knew as well as Cullen what it was to live through the utter destruction of a sacred place, even if this was so much worse.

All too soon they were at what was left of the temple. Tethras swore. Cassandra made a sound that attracted another despair demon. His men faltered but Cullen marched through, seeing the melted corpses and rubble and yet not at all. Kinloch had prepared him for this. He visited this destruction every night and it would not pull him from his path.

They found her at the center; rock scorched black and highlighted green by the rift. An elf. Stumbling in the rubble. There was no sign of another woman. When Cullen's men got to her she collapsed like she'd been struck dead. Cullen went to her. The elf was breathing but it was faint and without rhythm. She was rail thin, the whole of her thick as a sapling. And she was cold. Her hair was cut almost to her scalp, a widow's peak at the front. Neither protected her from the snow of the Frostback Mountains. Her skin was tanned, almost too dark to see the spattering of freckles against her sharp cheeks. They were even harder to see against the black tattoos that marked her face, twisting like vines from forehead to chin. Dalish.

What was a Dalish doing in the middle of negotiations between Templers and Rebel Mages?

"Do you see anyone else?" Cassandra demanded.

"No one Ser," answered one of the men. ". . .No one alive, Ser."

"We must take her in for questioning," Cassandra said. The edge to her voice might well have been a blade.

"Because that's worked so well for you in the past," Tethras grumbled out. The Seeker turned on him and was about to say more when the elf struggled in Cullen's grasp. At first he thought she was waking but her body convulsed, the cut on her hand flaring bright green and –

Magic. Ancient magic. Even without lyrium, Cullen recognized the wild, primal touch of it. He all but dropped the elf, instincts jarring him to move, to take his sword and put an end to the foreign magic before it could do harm. Cassandra had her sword drawn, though not on the elf. Not the glowing elf in any case.

"Wait! She is the solution to the breach!" called a second elf, this one wrapped in dark robes that hooded his head. He was sprinting down into the rubble, tone more incessant than worried. It put Cullen on edge, as did the woman, her cut pulsing again as the – breach? – roared and expanded.

"Another apostate?" The distain in Cassandra's voice was unhelpful. They needed to be level here.

"Yes, and one who can help." The second elf came to them and pulled away his hood, revealing narrow eyes and an expression only very wise Senior Enchanters bore. It was that expression that had Cullen relaxing his sword from the woman's throat. If anyone could make sense of this, he could.

. . .

As Cassandra led the party down to Haven with their new prisoners, Cullen stayed behind with his men to cull the demon horde. It was a losing battle. For every one they slew, five more came through the veil and his men were being decimated. Their force wasn't strong to begin with. They'd only just started recruiting men for their unofficial Inquisition. They couldn't lose everyone – not like this. So they were pushed back, and back, and back into the valley.

The breach was expanding and there was no news from Cassandra. His men were being butchered at this point. There was no denying it. Cullen dug in his heels and refused to be moved again. He would not flee. He would endure this invasion.

Then the air lit with magic again and a barrier was cast over him. Green light sang over him, light and warm as a blanket that had been heated by a fire. Cullen's knees buckled with his relief. The barrier extended to the men closest to him, one of which had a demon's claws at his throat. It bounced back, his soldier completely unharmed. In the next moment Cassandra was there, bulldozing the demon over, the barrier over her too.

As he fought, Cullen caught glimpses of the woman, fighting in the front like any warrior, her staff bursting harsh colored magic point blank at the demons. It seemed a poor tactical decision but Cullen could not deny her efficiency and brute will.

Just as the barrier started to flag she cast it again, energy renewed and singing. Under its comfort Cullen became aware of his aches and injuries that he'd been ignoring with adrenaline. He was exhausted.

The last demon in the area was slain and Cassandra came to him. Cullen forced himself straight but she could see the weariness in him. At least he was better than when she'd found him in Kirkwall.

Cassandra explained the situation in short breaths. Cullen gathered what men he had left and hurried them back to safety. The mage – Lavellan? – cast another barrier over them. It smelled of ozone, as most magic did. With so many castings the scent was almost overwhelming but knowing he and his men were safe for a few minutes more outweighed any annoyance. He nodded to the mage and she back before the party moved forward.