"Find them! They must be here somewhere!" yells a Venatori guard. The section of the platform that was raise when we first came here, lowers with a thud. "The prisoners are loss."
Four Venatori guards rush across the bridge, swords and shields in hand.
I slap a sword away with one of my own. Varric shoots a well-aimed bolt at the under arm of the Venatori—an unprotected part. The guard howls in pain and I kick him in the groin. He falls to his knees and I kick him again.
And again.
I don't know how many times I've kicked him, but a hand clumps down on my shoulder, "I think you've broken his nose already," says Dorian.
It's only then I'm aware of the tears running down my cheeks, "They had to be the ones who tortured them."
I send a glance to Cassandra, but her and Varric can't hear us.
"I know. But if we find Alexius, none of this would happen. They'll be safe."
I nod and step back from the body, "Let's go."
The castle is quiet as we continue along. I keep glancing back and Cassandra and Varric, to make sure they're still with us.
I don't want to disappear on them again. I can't even imagine what they've been through and it hurts to think about it.
Varric loots through some barrels and jars, looking for anything useful, but doesn't find anything, "Just what you'd expect in a castle owned by the Elder One's servant."
The rest of our journey is in silence, and I feel the place starting to weigh on me. I just want out.
We walk up a flight of stone stairs and I glance around. A small stream of water trickles along the cracked floor, brown and dirty.
It smells of blood and death. The red Lyrium grows more frequently here and I make sure Cassandra and Varric don't get anywhere near it. They've been exposed to enough of it already.
"How did Trevelyan know of the sacrifice at the temple?" a man's voice cuts through the air. "Answer me!"
"Never!" comes the response and I realise it's Leliana. A slap sounds across the hall and I burst through the nearest door and see the spymaster chained, her arms and legs spread apart. A Venatori stands in front of her, knife in hand.
"You will break," he hisses, pressing a palm against her head and the tip pf the knife against her throat.
Her hood shifts and I see her face. Shrunken eye sockets, her cheek bones visible, her lips chapped, hair like straw. And the wrinkles covering her face are the worst. She seems to have aged ten years in one.
"I will die first," she snaps back.
"Hey!" I yell. The Venatori guard snaps around to look at me, his helmet hiding his surprise.
"Or you will," says Leliana, her legs wrapping around his neck.
The guard struggles, gagging and chocking, arms trying to tear the spymaster's legs away. But she tightens her grip and twists her hips, the foul snap of his neck cracking echoing through the chamber.
The guard lets out one last choke and falls to the ground.
I rush to her side, her gaze on me, eyes devoid of emotion, "You're alive?"
My fingers twitch into action, unlocking one of the cuffs binding her to the pole. Her arm drops and I go to the other one. When Leliana is finally free, I step back, "You're safe now, Leliana."
"Forget 'safe'. If you came back from the dead, you need to do better than 'safe'."
I blink at her harsh words.
"You need to end this. Do you have weapons?"
I nod, still a little shocked to say anything.
"Good," she says, walking past us. "The Magister is probably in his chambers." She kneels beside a chest and unlocks it with ease.
"You… aren't curious how we got here?" asks Dorian.
"No." She slings a bow around her torso, accompanied by a quiver.
"Alexius sent us into the future. This. His victory. His Elder one—it was never meant to be."
"I'm sorry that this happened. But if we get back to the present and stop Alexius, then you'll never have to go through this."
"And mages wonder why people fear them…"
"One bad apple doesn't spoil an entire bunch, Leliana," I say.
She just gives me a look, "No one should have this power."
Dorian nods, "It's dangerous and unpredictable. Before the Breach, nothing we did—"
"Enough. This is all pretend to you. Some future you hope will never exist. I suffered. The whole world suffered. It was real." She turns and storms from the room and we've got no choice but to follow her.
"What happened while we were away?" asks Dorian as we walk down a hallway.
"Stop talking," Leliana snaps.
"I'm just asking for information," argues Dorian, sending me a look.
"No. You're talking to fill silence. Nothing happened that you want to hear."
I try not to yell at her.
"Well, we need to find Alexius. I'm sure he's in the nicer part of the castle. If there is one."
+++
In front of us seems to be some kind of dock. Red Lyrium grows from the high ceiling, and debris is scattered around the dock, chunks of the ceiling having fallen.
"The Magister needs more power for his rituals," comes a woman's voice.
"No! Don't hurt me, Linnea. You know me," pleas a man.
We rush down the stairs in time to see two demons rise from the ground, growling and spitting. Taking them down is easy, an arrow in the eye, a blade in the throat. A sword in its face, an ice bolt buried in its belly. It's looking at the ritual symbol drawn into the stone with chalk that's not so easy to look at. Blood is splattered over the stone, covering most of the symbol, and small candles burn flecked with blood. My guess: Those two we heard talking turned into demons.
"This is madness," says Dorian. "Alexius can't have wanted this."
I look out to the body of water. Boats drift in the small ripples, broken, hulls smashed and sails snapped. There's no way we'd escape by swimming, the water is darker than night.
We leave the cavern without another word, but then we step outside into what seems like a courtyard.
The grass is dead—nothing more than grey sticks. The stairs leading further up the courtyard are broken, but climbable.
I gasp. The sky is grey, polluted with haze and hovering stones. Pieces of the ground seem to be floating around us, spires of earth threatening to fall on top of us. Lightning flashes through the hazy sky.
"The Breach… it's…" I can't finish my sentence.
"Everywhere," says Dorian.
"Well shit," says Varric.
"We were never taken outside," says Cassandra.
They hadn't seen the sun for a year… what's left of the sun.
A Rift lights up, spewing demons from its green maw.
My mind is a mess as we plough through the demons and I don't remember how many demons I stab and slash at, killing them with harsh blows. I hardly feel the cut on my arm. Or that I close the Rift.
Alexius is the one behind it all—this Elder One wouldn't be here if it weren't for him. If I hadn't decided to help the mages, we wouldn't be here. Cassandra, Varric and Leliana wouldn't have been tortured.
I blink and somehow we've made it to a nicer part of the castle—a royal wing by the various paintings lining the walls and candles burning.
Entering a room at the start of a deserted hallway, the first thing I notice is the fire burning in the hearth. Someone's been here recently. The two double sized beds have been neatly made, the cotton covers smooth and clean. A desk sits against the opposite wall, lying on the oak top, a piece of parchment. Scribbled in ink is someone's handwriting, almost too messy to read.
"It's Alexius' writing," says Dorian. He skims the page, "He was trying to go back before the Conclave explosion… Felix's caravan was attacked by darkspawn." Dorian gasps, "Whatever magic Alexius is using, it's tied to the Breach in some way. He cannot travel outside its timeline."
"So you mean he can't fulfill the Elder One's plans?" I ask.
"It seems that way."
I glance at Cassandra then back to Dorian, "Come on. We better find him."
We continue walking through the hallway, paintings ripped, walls broken and ceilings with holes in them.
Dorian looks around, "How much damage did Alexius' spell do?"
Leliana inclines her head, "Rifts tore apart all of Southern Thedas, starting here. But whether that's his doing or the Breach, who can say?"
After walking for a few minutes in the seemingly never ending hallway, we come to another room.
I glance inside, seeing an office of some sort. A fire place with Lyrium sticking from the hearth sits idle, a book case beside it actually stacked with various novels. But on a table tucked in the corner of the room is a massive book, with someone's writing scribbled all over it. Dorian and I share a glance then read the text, with Leliana and Cassandra keeping watch. Varric stares at the wall, his blank expression devoid of any life.
It's someone's study notes. The Venatori had been experimenting on Blight victims—transferring blood from resistant subjects to the ill. But according to this, it only slowed the corruption slightly. All those lives wasted.
It's not until I reach the bottom that it holds a dark secret. They had been taking flesh from healthy subjects to implant into the ill, but they would die before the implantation was successful. The last sentence makes me gasp, a hand coming to cover my mouth. Prisoner Leliana has been the most useful source of resistant blood and skin to date.
I keep reading the same sentence, hoping my eyes are wrong. But they're not.
I glance at Leliana, whose shrunken face is hidden behind her hood. That's why she's like that. They did that to her. Drained her blood, took her flesh… Andraste preserve her.
Dorian purses his lips and I know he's thinking the same thing.
She may seem fine, brave even, but under those robes, I wonder what scares she has—mentally and physically.
And what of Cassandra and Varric? Are they subjects to? Are they infected with the Blight to the Venatori can experiment on them?
I clench my fists and Leliana's eyes meet mine, "What does it say? Anything on Alexius?"
I look away, "No. It's… nothing important. Just some journal entries."
She sighs, "Perhaps we need to keep looking."
And we move away from the room, away from the horrifying facts. From the truth.
The hallway eventually spreads out into a large room. Red Lyrium grows from the walls sending a reddish gloom throughout the hall. Wooden scaffolding has been placed around the stone pillars, seemingly to make sure they don't collapse. After a year of war and the Elder One, I'm sure collapsing castles are the least of our worries.
Walking up a flight of stairs, we stop in front of a metal door. Carvings have been etched into the metal, depicting various deaths.
I place a palm on the door, surprised by how cold it is. My fingers tingle and a ripple of adrenaline rushes through me. Hopefully we can reverse this.