“We are on holy ground. I can feel it,” Leliana said reverently. The temple appeared as though it hadn’t been touched in ages. There was a pile of armor with mummified remains, and Jamie wondered how many people actually made it up here since its creation. The thought unnerved him.
Up ahead, it appeared as though a knight awaited them. He stood silently and Jamie felt a cold shiver swim along his spine. With eyes narrowed, he walked forward, but Caspar wasn’t idly standing by. He walked ahead of Jamie, unafraid of whatever it was that was up ahead. The guardian eyed the company, then brought his pale white-eyed gaze to Caspar.
“I bid you welcome, pilgrim. I am the Guardian. The protector of the Urn of Sacred Ashes. I have waited years for this.”
“For someone to take the remains of some shemlen woman? Sounds like you got the bad end of the deal,” Caspar snarked, wrinkling his nose at the Guardian.
“No one can take the Ashes. They belong here. It has been my life, my duty, to prepare the way for the faithful who have come to revere Andraste. For years beyond counting have I been here, and shall I remain until my task is done and the Imperium has crumbled to the sea.”
“But the Tevinter Imperium is no longer as powerful as it once was,” Jamie chimed in, furrowing his brows and looking at the spirit with curiosity and wariness.
“Ah… Is it not? Then perhaps this is the beginning of the end. When my brethren and I carried Andraste from Tevinter to this Sanctuary, we vowed to forever revere Her memory, and guard Her.” The Guardian continued to speak to them of how those protectors failed their duties and spiraled into the cultists they faced today. The dragon was most certainly not Andraste, and the gauntlet ahead would determine if they were worthy to take a pinch of the ashes for themselves. The Guardian seemed to know a great deal of personal information about each one, down to what they felt. Jamie felt incredibly guilty over what happened to his family in Highever and wished he could’ve remained to fight. Caspar felt as though he failed Tamlen. Alistair lamented not being the one to die in Duncan’s stead. Leliana sought attention by lying about her visions to the maker, Sten felt guilt over the family that was slaughtered, and Zevran felt guilt over one murder over hundreds he’d committed. Morrigan furrowed her brows. “Begone, spirit! I will not play your games,” she said. Oddly enough, the Guardian respected her wishes before allowing them to proceed.
Ahead of them, Jamie felt as though their minds were being tested. Several spirits told them of their travels with Andraste and their relationships with her. They represented qualities that described what happened. Something about this all felt odd. Jamie wanted to believe that they were truly spirits of those who traveled with Andraste, but he couldn’t simply take their words for it. As they pressed on, Jamie watched Caspar walk towards something that Jamie could not see. Caspar was speaking to an invisible, inaudible spirit, and Jamie could scarcely make out what was being said before his attention snapped to a spirit just ahead of himself.
“My dearest child,” the spirit began. He was in the form of Teyrn Bryce Cousland. Jamie’s father.
“You aren’t real,” Jamie said brokenly, feeling his heart break all over again when he saw the father he loved so much.
“You know that I am gone, and all your prayers and wishes will not bring me back. No more must you grieve, my boy. Take the pain and the guilt, acknowledge it, and let go. It is time. You have such a long road ahead of you and you must be prepared. And so, I leave this in your hands. I know you will do great things with it,” he said. Jamie coudln’t feel the Teryn as he handed an item to him. His eyes filled with tears, but he did not cry as he took the amulet from his father’s hand and pulled it around his neck. Briefly, he looked towards Caspar to see he too held a similar amulet, and before he had a moment to thank his father, the apparition was gone. Whatever it was, Jamie wondered if it was all in his head, or if it was a spirit of the fade taking the form of his deceased father.
The time for wondering was over as suddenly, they were under attack once more. The temple held many surprises, and several puzzles that Jamie was sure would sent them plummeting to their deaths, but somehow, they made it to the end. An altar awaited them with a riddle and a wall of fire blocking their way from where the Urn of Sacred Ashes sat perched upon an altar up ahead.
“Cast off the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit. King and slave, lord and beggar, be born anew in the Maker’s sight.”
A trail of fire blazed before them, and Jamie’s brows furrowed. This was no mage’s illusion. Whether or not this was truly the Maker’s will, Jamie knew what he had to do. Slowly, he began to remove his armor and weapons. They had made it through the trial, this far, and when the other saw Jamie removing his armor, they began to do the same. Jamie walked forward and felt the fire’s flames licking his skin but not burning him. His heart pounded in his chest, and once he made it across, the others followed and the flames disappeared.
Jamie found it all a bit too odd. This whole experience had been incredibly odd. If this was a test of religious faith, why had Morrigan and Caspar been allowed to cross? They weren’t Andrastian. Neither was Sten, and Jamie was willing to bet that Zevran wasn’t either… still, they were able to pass the test to retrieve the ashes they needed.
The Guardian once again appeared to them, congratulating them on being worthy of the trial and bidding them farewell. After recovering their weapons and armor, they were free to take a pinch of the Ashes. Leliana nearly wept, and Alistair remained as reverent as Jamie. Morrigan was not at all impressed, and Zevran wanted to get out of this creepy place already. Sten reminded them that the dragon still awaited outside and that they needed to hurry out of there.
As they exited the temple once again, Jamie decided it was best not to antagonize a dragon that hadn’t done anything wrong unless it attacked them as they retreated. Just as he hoped, the high dragon didn’t bother with them, remaining preoccupied with itself high above them.
In a bit of an awkward silence, they began their descent back from the Frostback Mountain towards Redcliffe, but night had fallen. After the trials they had endured, it was time for them to rest. They had the ashes they needed for Arl Eamon, and hopefully they would have the support of troops that they needed at last. Tomorrow began a new day, and they would need to move faster to make up for lost time.
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