Chapter Text
“So few of you remain.”
Ghilan’nain’s voice echoed through Rook’s bones, a shout and a distant whisper that seemed to echo in his head. Impenetrable fog choked inwards, massive coils of blight breaching up from the stone, towering above them.
“Small.”
Emmrich had vanished behind him, gone soundlessly into the mist. “Emmrich?”
“Desperate.”
When he turned, Neve was missing as well. “Neve? Where are you?”
“Fearful.”
Rook whirled, the voice right behind him, but found nothing except a wall of tangled blight, vines blocking Ghilan’nain’s form from his sight. Shards of splintered Fade-magic pulsed in his peripherals, catching on the Goddess’ gilded mask in sickly yellow-green hues.
“For your transgressions, little Rook, you face a god alone.”
He felt dread seep into his stomach like a stone. The goddess waved one of her many arms, the fog retreating and revealing Rook’s companions bound, unconscious. Darkspawn gathered, red eyes leering, hungry. And Lucanis still had the lyrium dagger. Shit.
Magic erupted around Ghilan’nain, a shield and spears wrought of crimson Fade.
“Run, little Rook,” she whispered, the words caressing his mind like cold fingers.
Rook fought. He wouldn’t leave them behind.
Magic rained down around him, not letting him stop for even a moment. Every time he tried to get close to one of his companions, teeth and claws blocked his path. He fired arrow after arrow until his quiver nearly emptied. He slashed through darkspawn until his fingers bled. Then finally, an opening. He fired his last arrow at a pustule of active blight, praying that it struck true. The orb burst, the vine connecting it to Emmrich’s prison burning up like a fuse before shattering its hold on the mage. The man landed on his feet, staff already bristling with magic.
“Rook-”
Something slammed into Rook’s side. He hit the ground hard, barely managing to roll to his feet to avoid the massive darkspawn as it slammed its fist into the ground where he had been a second ago. He drove his daggers into its core. In the corner of his eye he saw Emmrich unleash a wave of magic, flinging several smaller ghouls back. He caught Rook’s gaze.
“I’m fine! We need to get the others out!” Rook yelled, sidestepping as another darkspawn lunged at him.
They worked in tandem, Emmrich holding off most of the darkspawn while Rook cut through endless tendrils of blight. Neve dropped to the ground, free. Harding. Then Davrin and Taash.
“We need to find Lucanis!”
Ghilan’nain screamed in outrage, her attacks verging on a panicked frenzy. Rook barely avoided a lance of red magic, then raced up the stairs to where the assassin was trapped. He grabbed the nearest strand of blight, ripping it away.
“I’ve got you-”
A coil of blight wrapped around his right leg. Thorns stabbed through his armor and scraped against bone as it jerked him backwards. He grit his teeth against the white-hot pain with a groan, pulling the last vine away from Lucanis before he was dragged down the stairs. Lucanis landed in a crouch, the lyrium dagger already in hand.
Rook reached for the tendril impaling his leg, trying to dislodge it, but it jerked him off his feet before he could slash it away. Ghilan’nain commanded the blight upwards until Rook hung before her, his daggers clattering against the stones far below.
“Behold your current age! Fragile. Aimless. Lost!”
The thorns dug deeper into his flesh. Rook bit his tongue against the pain.
“We are the only beings in this world who can cleanse and tame the blight-”
A blur of violet. Lucanis and Spite’s wings.
“Use it to rebuild the old glories-”
Gold flashed in the corner of his eye. Davrin’s armor.
“-You’ve done naught but destroy them.”
They were flanking the goddess– and they needed a distraction. Rook sucked in a sharp breath and steeled himself.
“You and Elgar’nan are trapped in the past, just like Solas!” he spat, and Ghilan’nain’s disfigured eyes fixed on him. She stilled, and Rook could see her revulsion at being compared to the Dread Wolf. “You had your chance, each one of you— and we don’t owe you a thing!”
Then Lucanis leapt, wings unfurling as he drove the lyrium dagger towards Ghilan’nain— and was caught mid-air by a mass of blight. The Crow slammed into stone, wings shattering on impact and dissipating into flecks of violet. Ghilan’nain curled her hand into a fist.
“Lucani-” the rest of Rook’s call turned into a shout of pain. Blight snapped through the bones of his leg, and fire spread through his nerves, making his vision swim dangerously.
“Whatever it takes.”
Davrin leapt, his sword embedding into Ghilan’nain’s back beside Assan’s claws. She whirled, her grip on Lucanis loosening just enough for the Crow to free himself — and then suddenly Davrin was falling— holes punched through his chest like a paper doll.
Someone screamed. Maybe it was Rook himself.
There was a flash of violet, then blue, and Ghilan’nain crumpled. Rook hit the ground hard, his leg throbbing as energy rushed from the goddess’ fatal injury. With every blink, he seemed to lose time. Lucanis appeared beside him at some point, steady hands supporting him as his vision blurred. Rook barely registered the purple wings that unfurled to shield him. When he next opened his eyes, not knowing they’d shut, his attention fixed on Elgar’nan. The god took a half-step towards Ghilan’nain’s corpse, and turned to the two of them.
“You,” Elgar’nan snarled, stepping towards Rook and Lucanis, a pain as raw and wild as magic around them dripping from his voice. But he recoiled suddenly, the red lyrium dagger in his hand reacting against the Fade as it shattered around them. “You will regret this-” he warned, and with one last look at the goddess’ body, he vanished.
The ground shook. Energy poured out from the lyrium dagger where it connected with the goddess.
“The Fade’s still tearing open!” Neve shouted above the storm.
Emmrich pushed against the wind, shielding his face. “The dagger! We must break its contact with Ghilan’nain!”
Lucanis started forward.
Rook lurched for him, pulling the man back with all the strength he could muster. With this much uncontrolled Fade, he wouldn’t risk any of his companions touching the dagger, not when it was so reactive. Not when they’d already lost Davrin– and possibly Bellara. He wouldn’t lose anyone else. He Fade-stepped forward through the storm, falling to his knees beside Ghilan’nain. As soon as his fingers wrapped around the blade and pulled it out, the storm fell away, the silence that followed oppressive. His ears rang. His vision blurred. His leg burned with pain. But he had to move. He had to make sure everyone was alright.
He whipped around, searching for his companions. His eyes widened, gaze locking onto a body— purple cloak, dark hair, too-pale skin. Rook’s heart leapt into his throat.
“Lucanis-!”
Rook used the last of his energy to warp again to the other man, his legs buckling under him, and he crashed to the ground beside the Crow. Hands shaking, Rook turned him over. He blinked, and it was Varric’s body before him. He sucked in a trembling breath, eyes wide.
“What-”
He heard Solas behind him, calm, almost… disappointed and sad.
“And so you have your victory.”
Rook tore himself away from Varric. His vision blurred with the movement, and he saw only the goddess’ body behind him.
“You live. And Ghilan’nain does not.”
He couldn’t help but look back to the motionless dwarf— but Lucanis lay there again instead. He was pale, bloodless and cold, and his eyes were open and dull, looking straight at Rook.
“Are you not proud to finally reach this moment…?”
He could feel Solas behind him. He swallowed down the guilt and fear that rose in him, and it stuck in his throat.
“Or did you think you’d win the day without some painful sacrifice?”
. . .
Rook could hear his companions' voices. They lingered in the edges of his subconscious, becoming loud and biting when he thought they’d faded away. They whispered his guilt, his mistakes. He knew his friends would never say the things they did, not really, but some part of him took it all to heart. The blame, the disgust— the outright hate; he couldn’t shut it out.
He lost track of time, limping among a mess of stone and pillars and empty void. Sometimes he thought he slept. But the voices were always there, with twisted half-memories that plagued him whether he was awake or not. He couldn’t tell if time was actually passing or if he was simply… suspended there. The Fade remained stagnant, seeming to never change, yet stretch out endlessly. When he had enough energy or couldn’t stand being still with the voices crowding his mind anymore, he explored. The pathways never led anywhere.
“You let Minrathous fall,” Neve — Neve’s voice — sneered. Not her, just her voice, he had to remind himself.
Rook slumped against a nearby stone, out of sight from any of the statues of his friends. They seemed to cover this place, carved eyes boring into him. His leg burned, sending lightning through his nerves as he jostled it.
“Shut up,” he murmured, exhausted.
He’d been walking for at least an hour, he thought, though it certainly felt longer. The same grey stone spread out on either side of him, monochrome and practically identical to every other place he’d been since Solas left him here; or maybe it was the same place and he hadn’t moved at all. He couldn’t remember anymore.
“You let Elgar’nan take me. You left me to die,” Bellara’s voice said, sad.
“Shut up.”
He slid all the way to the ground, laying his leg in front of himself gingerly. Carefully, he peeled the blood-damp fabric of his trousers away, his ruined greaves long since discarded. Beneath, his leg was a mottled black and purple, cuts and punctures wrapping around it like vines. The wounds bled sluggishly. He unclasped his cloak and started tearing it into strips.
“You’re worthless,” Harding spat.
The last piece of fabric split a little more forcefully than he’d intended, and he tried to ignore her. He wrapped the makeshift bandages tightly, trying to not look too closely at the way his shin extended at a slightly wrong angle.
“Face it. You’re incapable of anything.” He flinched at the anger in Taash’s voice.
“You failed us, Rook,” Emmrich bit out, disappointment dripping from his words.
“Shut up,” he whispered.
“You’re no leader.” The hate and betrayal in Lucanis’ voice made his chest ache.
“My sacrifice was for nothing.” Davrin.
“Shut up.”
“Varric was wrong to trust you.” Neve again.
“Shut. Up.”
“You let me die, Rook,” Lucanis whispered.
“I didn’t— I didn’t-”
“You killed me—”
“SHUT UP!”
The sound ricocheted from the stones around him and echoed back mockingly. He covered his ears, tucking his head against his good knee and squeezing his eyes closed.
Everything was too much– too much: the pain in his leg, the roar of blood in his ears, the ache in his chest, the hot tears as they itched down his skin, his own thoughts screaming if only to drown out the noise. Or maybe it was him screaming. He wanted it to stop. He’d do anything for it to just stop.
He didn’t know how long he sat there. Long enough for his bandages to become soaked through with blood again. Long enough that his fingers started to cramp from holding himself so tightly. Long enough that the voices stilled and became quiet— and his mind lurched to a halt at the sudden silence.
He lifted his head carefully, as if moving too quickly would alert his companions that he was listening again.
A pair of boots stood just before him. He followed them upwards to trousers, a familiar shirt, a ring hanging from the cord around his neck, and—
“...Varric?”
“Hey, kid.”
“You died,” Rook blurted, and the words came out both an accusation and an admission. “That day– Solas killed you.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that.” The dwarf smiled and sat beside Rook.
Rook didn’t know what to say. He felt hollow, scrubbed raw from the inside out. All this time, Varric had been dead— and Rook had been lured into an illusion. He’d checked on the man between every mission, taken advice from him, confessed his concerns, vulnerabilities, fears, to him– to Solas.
When Rook didn’t speak, Varric nudged his knee against Rook’s good one, and looked out over the void. “I’m proud of you–”
“Don’t– don’t. You’re not real.”
The man went still beside him.
“What are you?” Rook asked, his voice fracturing.
Varric was silent for a moment, as if thinking, and he wondered if it was real or just an act. He found himself waiting for the answer anyway.
“A memory, I suppose,” the dwarf eventually said, then turned to Rook. “An impression of how you knew me, when I was alive. The Fade reflects a person’s memories — or how that person remembers them — and the memories of others, if they leave enough of a mark.”
“Solas said he built a prison strong enough to hold the Evanuris — made out of their regrets. He just altered mine enough to create this place — and create you,” Rook finished, the realization cold. “That’s why I didn’t know you had died.”
Varric didn’t answer. When Rook looked at him, the man had stood from his place beside him and was reaching out a hand. Hesitantly, Rook took it and allowed Varric to help him to his feet. The dwarf’s hand was surprisingly warm, and had a strange half-tangibility, like he was gripping condensed smoke.
“Come on.”
“Where are we going?” Rook asked warily, following the man’s slow pace. Varric didn’t answer, but Rook hadn’t really expected him to.
Cracked stone rose up from nothing, reassembling into what might’ve been a grand cathedral or hallway ahead of them. When they passed the occasional likeness of his companions, they were silent and resigned. Still, he swore he felt their carved eyes on him.
As they walked, the pillars formed something fractured, familiar. Rook flinched violently when he recognized one of the Evanuris statues looming before them. The ritual site.
“What are we doing here-?” He hated the way his voice cracked.
More of the Evanuris rose from the depths of the Fade as he staggered forward.
“Varric-”
“It’s better if you see it for yourself, unobscured this time.”
“What-”
As they walked into the ritual site, green light erupted from the top of the stairs. It poured over the stone, blinding Rook. He shielded his eyes, and when the energy faded enough that he could see, Varric was by his side, Bianca in hand, and Solas stood at the top of the stairs. The lyrium dagger in his hand pulsed as the god pulled the Fade apart.
It was that day. The beginning of all of this.
“He was my friend, Rook. I’ve gotta try to reach him.”
And then Varric was climbing the stairs, pushing against the magic.
“Varric- stop!” Rook cried out, already stumbling forward even despite knowing it was a memory— and there was nothing he could do to change what had happened.
“You need to listen!” the dwarf shouted, and Bianca swung up towards Solas.
“Varric!” Rook shouted, but the words were swept away in the rising storm. He saw the lyrium dagger pierce Varric’s chest—
The Fade burst. It pushed Rook until his back hit stone, his leg throbbing with white-hot agony as the magic dispersed outward.
When the pain dissipated, Rook cracked open his eyes. The Fade had returned to its normal grey tones. The echo of Varric’s body lay at his feet.
He crumpled beside his friend, shaking as he reached for the man. At his touch, the body dissipated and vanished. Rook let out a sob, gasping for air as he pressed his forehead to the cold stone of the ground.
“Varric-” he choked out. “I couldn’t save you.”
“And that’s not your fault.”
Rook started as a warm hand pressed against his back.
“I made the choice to try to talk to Solas. To try to reach him. You couldn’t have talked me out of it,” the dwarf said, his voice stern, and so lifelike that it made Rook’s chest ache anew. Gently, Varric guided him up until he was on his feet again.
The man put his hands on his hips and scowled, not unkindly.
“Even knowing the risks, I did it — because he was my friend.” He smiled. They stood at the base of the stairs where Varric had died, a dull mirror of the scene where Rook made his first mistakes in this whole mess. “Our decisions are our own— I just made a choice that… didn’t turn out like I’d planned. That’s not your burden to bear.”
Rook stammered for an answer, but couldn’t find a single word that seemed good enough. Instead, he sucked in a steadying breath. “I– I’ve made so many mistakes since then, Varric. So many have died– because of me. Bellara and- Davrin. Lucani—”
“-And you’re making it right, Rook, one step at a time. You just have to keep going. You have to keep fighting in hopes there’s a better ending than the one the gods have planned— write it yourself if you have to.” Varric squeezed his arm.
They walked up the stairs together, almost hesitantly. Rook faltered when they reached the top. Varric stopped beside him, that aching smile on his face again.
“Don’t get all misty-eyed on me. They’re waiting for you.”
“They?-”
Pale, soft light broke the grey. It was warm, welcoming, like sunlight. He heard muffled voices, but they weren’t taunting or cruel. They were searching— for him, calling his name. Rook’s eyes widened.
“You have everything you need, Rook. You just have to see it.”
Rook turned towards him.
“Varric, I- thank you.”
The man smiled, and Rook stepped into the light.