Chapter Text
Before First Enchanter Fiona returned to her Circle in Orlais, Serenity spoke with her at length about the Architect and what he had offered her. Fiona was relieved Serenity had followed through on her promise, but she had no tomes to give her any insight into ‘blight magic’ or how to control the taint.
Serenity left Vigil’s Keep with Mabari-Cullen, taking the North Road west toward the foothills leading to Kinloch Hold. It had been eight months since the Blight ended and only two weeks since the darkspawn’s civil war came to an abrupt end with the death of the Architect and the Mother. Garevel took over as the new seneschal of Vigil’s Keep. He didn’t possess the same kindness and maturity that Varel had, but he was a capable leader and knowledgeable in his assigned duties. She left the keep in his hands and the task of training and recruitment in the hands of her companions.
The new year turned as Serenity crossed northern Ferelden in the snow, huddled up with her mabari around their campfire at night. She wrote a different letter each night in camp, using Mabari-Cullen for her pillow as she propped the parchment on a book against her leg. She wrote Sten in Par Vollen the first night, Zevran in Rivain at the last address he had given her on the second, Leliana in Orlais on the third night, and Alistair in Denerim on the fourth. It helped make the camp feel less empty to talk to them, even if she couldn’t hear them answer. She would have written Morrigan if she’d had any inkling of where to send the missive.
“Cullen never answered my letter,” she said dolefully and turned her head when her mabari whined. “I didn’t think he would. I don’t know why I’m so disappointed when I knew from the beginning he wouldn’t write me back.”
She hoped enough time had passed between them that he wouldn’t still harbor resentment for the choice she made at the Circle. That was one decision she never doubted.
When they reached Lake Calenhad, Serenity left Mabari-Cullen at the docks before she crossed. She pounded on the door with her fist before trying to open it herself. The two templars standing guard pushed the doors open and she crossed her arms. “I knew it didn’t take four men to open these doors.”
“Are you…?” the templar started to ask, confused. What was a mage doing trying to get into the Circle tower?
“Grey Warden,” Knight-Commander Greagoir greeted her from inside. She hadn’t given them any notice of her arrival. “You’re not here to conscript more of our mages, I hope?”
“I deserve that,” she smirked. “No. I come to see Irving."
“He should be upstairs in his chamber,” Greagoir answered. “Are you here to stay this time?”
“No, I have much more work to do. The work never ends for me,” she said. “Not until I’m dead.”
“I understand that well,” Greagoir answered.
Serenity was almost sure she saw a hint of a smile on his lips. She walked down the hall, past the apprentices’ chambers, surprised to see so many new faces, and even more surprised to see a few back from her own apprenticeship. Her heart was racing as she passed the templars standing guard, but she couldn’t see their faces beneath their helmets. Would Cullen stop her if she passed him?
She greeted each of the templars on her way up to the mages’ quarters, hoping she might find him among them. He used to be posted in the apprentices’ quarters, but maybe he was transferred upstairs, she thought. She walked the longest route around the halls, keeping an eye out for Cullen until she reached the First Enchanter’s room.
Where is he…?
For an old man, Irving’s hearing was sharp. He turned at the sound of her approach and his eyes gleamed with joy. “Ah, Serenity, but I did not think I would see you again,” he croaked slowly as he stood and walked around to stand in front of his desk.
“It surprises me too,” she admitted. The sound of his voice was still a comfort to her, but he looked even older and more frail than when she saw him last. “Coming back here when I’m free never to step foot inside again. But I still think about you often, Irving. I’m glad to see you’re still…”
“Alive?” he asked, shaking his head. “You always joked about me being old. Now I’m finally starting to feel the ache in these old bones.”
Serenity chuckled, “You may be old, but you’re wise and… the kindest man I know.”
“You’re getting sentimental on me now, Warden,” Irving smiled. “We could use your expertise with these new apprentices. I’m sure you have a lot to teach them.”
“I can’t stay and teach, but I brought you two more books for the library. The Grimoire of the Frozen Wastes and the Formari Tome,” she said and reached into her satchel.
“Thank you. I will read them before I put them on the shelves,” he said, taking them from her with a shaky hand.
“So, how is everything here? Has it changed a lot?” she asked.
“We have a lot of new blood. Templars transferred from Starkhaven in the Free Marches and mages transferred from the Circle in Val Royeaux,” he answered, “but the Circle is doing well in its recovery, thanks to you.”
She nodded, “And what of the survivors?”
“They remain here still,” he answered.
“Even the templar, Cullen?”
Irving smiled and set the books down on his desk. “You did not come all the way here to deliver me these books, did you, child?”
Serenity hesitated and averted her eyes. “You gave him my letter?”
“I did,” Irving answered. “He’s not here.”
She tried not to betray the crushing disappointment she felt. “Is he… on a mission?” she asked, imagining him out hunting down escaped mages. Would he kill them or capture them?
“I do not know,” Irving said. “Greagoir finally admitted the boy wasn’t getting any better here. He sent him to a chapel in the countryside, but he was requested in the Free Marches.”
“The Free Marches?” Serenity repeated, dumbfounded. “That… that’s north of Amaranthine, isn’t it?”
“Across the Waking Sea,” Irving answered. “Greagoir saw to it that he continued serving the Chantry elsewhere. The memories here were too painful for him to bear and made him paranoid. The apprentices were afraid of him.”
“I see.”
“I discourage you from pursuing him any further, Serenity,” Irving said. “The young man has a new life now. You would only stir up old memories best forgotten. Not to mention the risk you take, not only for yourself but for his career. Mages and templars cannot be… involved. As friends, or otherwise. I’ve seen it happen before. Only tragedy befalls them.”
She did not care to be lectured. She knew what she wanted was forbidden. She thought with the passage of time she might release her desire to see him again, yet she found herself thinking of him more and more—wondering what became of him. She could only let him go if he told her to or if he had changed so much that she wouldn’t recognize him anymore.
“There is something else,” Serenity said, changing the subject. “I am trying to find any information I can on ‘blight magic.’ It has the potential to cure the darkspawn taint and prevent the Calling.”
“I’ve never heard of such a magic,” Irving answered slowly.
“It’s…” Serenity sighed, remembering where she stood. She could not ask the First Enchanter to help her research a form of blood magic. She had already spoken to Fiona. With any luck, she might find some leads.
“You were saying?” Irving prodded.
“Nothing,” she answered. “Never mind. I should return to Amaranthine. I need to go to Soldier’s Peak.”
“You won’t stay the night? You could at least stay for supper,” he said.
“No, that’s quite all right. My dog is waiting for me,” she said. “I’ll bring you more books if I come across anything useful.”
“Thank you… Serenity.”
Serenity left Kinloch Hold and made it to Soldier’s Peak within another week. She shared all of her findings with Avernus before writing Fiona in Orlais and requesting her assistance there. It was a long shot, considering the duties of a First Enchanter, but her blood was unique. If anyone could unlock the secret of blight magic, it was Avernus.
“This letter came for you,” Levi said, handing her the rolled parchment. “Some time ago, actually.”
The letter was from Jerrek Dace in Orzammar, requesting her assistance in a sensitive matter. It asked her to come alone. She might have pretended not to have seen it if it didn’t butter her up with compliments and mention King Bhelen as having recommended her.
Another trip into the Deep Roads… already?
She spent a week retracing her steps west and took the Imperial Highway past Lake Calenhad to Orzammar. She spent a week in the city in preparation for the journey underground. She was buying time, considering going against Jerrek’s wishes and waiting for reinforcements. She had Mabari-Cullen with her, but she would have felt more confident with Anders and Nathaniel by her side.
Jerrek had lost his expedition party in the Deep Roads searching for the secrets to Caridin’s golem construction in Amgorrak. As useful as the research and the Anvil of the Void could be in pushing back the darkspawn and taking back the Deep Roads, Serenity didn’t trust that kind of power in Orzammar’s political climate. She knew what was involved in the creation of the golems and she didn’t agree with it. She hoped if they did discover how to produce golems again, they did so ethically. If she were faced with the same choice—to destroy the Anvil or save it, she would make the same choice again and see it plummet into the lava flow.
She hoped this journey into the Deep Roads wouldn’t be her last. One day down below was one too many. She suspected they might not even find the remains of his party and that they might join them in the bellies of whatever monsters had taken them. The deeper they explored, the more determined she felt to see it through. It felt hopeless, each step of the descent closer to death. But she wasn’t ready to die. She felt more defiant of her fear the further from the surface they went.
At least she had Mabari-Cullen with her. With Derrek’s bronto and the golem they found, she had enough assistance not to feel completely overwhelmed. But they were not her friends, and one of them wasn’t even sentient. She was not accustomed to going into battle, let alone the Deep Roads, without trusted allies at her back.
There was a monster unlike any she had yet come across, and it was fast and grotesque. At first, she thought it a new breed of darkspawn after having seen the worst culminations of their evolution in the broodmothers and the Children. But what they encountered wasn’t something produced by the Deep Roads. It inhabited the tunnels, but it was made by the darkest blood magic, unlike any ritual she had studied. The dwarves had sanctioned the spells. They had allowed the corpses of casteless dwarves to be desecrated. There was no mistaking it. The amalgamation of corpses was possessed by a powerful demon.
Serenity found Jerrek’s brother, the only survivor of the expedition, and with his help, they defeated the Harvester and left the thaig alive. Had she been alone, she knew she would have died. Several times during the fight, she felt her legs giving out on her, the pull for mana too strenuous to continue, the whispers of demons across the veil offering her their strength. But she slowed and steadied herself, relying on the auric spells she learned from Fiona that had served her so well on her expeditions into the Deep Roads when she was a Grey Warden. She practiced the knowledge shared with her from the ancient arcane warrior.
She learned she was stronger than she thought she was.