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Queen of the Stone, Part 3

Read on AO3, Part 1, Part 2

She has been a Grey Warden for eleven years, and the taint is beginning to consume her. She needs to find a cure soon. So Elodie Amell sets out in search and finds herself in the city thought long-lost, Kal-Sharok. There she discovers something much bigger than just a cure for the taint running through her body.

A companion story to my other story, In Your Gaze I Wish to Stay, but this can be read separately!

Lost Girls

Elodie descends deeper and discovers a shocking revelation.

They walked for another hour before Effir slumped against a wall, clearly exhausted from the day’s journey.

“Paragon-Elect, I request we make camp,” they asked, eyes half-way closed.

But Karega shook her head, “I know of a spot just up over here. C’mon, Shaper, you demanded to be on this expedition after all.” Effir sighed but pushed themselves off of the stone. Elodie murmured a little spell and gestured towards them, trying to give them the little boost needed to get through this next part.

They eyed the magic suspiciously then waved at it and shuddered when it continued to wrap itself around them.

“What is this? Spirits of the Stone? Leave me be, ancestors!” Their voice broke and Elodie frowned, waving again and making the magic dissipate.

“I apologize –

“Warn a person before you do that,” they growled and took off after Karega. Elodie sighed and reminded herself that the dwarves here hadn’t seen magic in…thousands of years.

She winced at her own insensitivity and followed along quietly once more. They jogged up a ramp that seemed to go on for miles before arriving at a huge open plateau.

Elodie’s jaw dropped at the sheer size of the space.

The ceiling was so high that she could barely see the dangling chandeliers. Towering pillars framed the space and section off other spaces containing large square holes that looked suspiciously like….

“Is this a bathhouse?” Elodie asked. Karega turned back and smiled.

“You reek, and I remember running past this place – two nugs, one bath!” She declared happily. Effir and Pritte paused for a moment before gravitating towards the pillars, recording any and all information possible.

“Are you not going to enjoy a bath?” Elodie called back as she followed Karega in search of a lever to turn the pools on.

“In a bit, perhaps,” Pritte said absently as he scribbled into his journal. Their voices carried through the space, echoing off of remarkably smooth and pristine stone. With a few careful words, Elodie illuminated the room, igniting torches, braziers, and even the chandeliers hanging above.

The light allowed Elodie and Karega to spot various hallways leading off of the main chamber. And in the third room they investigated, they found what they were looking for – or at least what Elodie hoped was what they wanted.

It was an entire wall of levers, pullies, and various notes attached with what Elodie to be descriptions. Karega leaned forward to inspect the descriptions only to huff and swear once more.

“Damn. Ancient Dwarven, you would think our language and writing would not have deviated this much, but here it is.”

“Is there really nothing you can make out?”

“Uh, just barely. Maybe…this lever?” She pulled a lever and a great WOOSH went through the room. There was a pause and then distant screaming, hissing, and clanking sounded out in the main chamber.

“Shit!”

They ran back out just in time to see Pritte burying another axe into a spider’s skull. He looked up, and smiled while Effir, now covered in spider gore, scowled.

“Wrong. Lever.”

Karega snorted in an attempt to smother laughter, earning Effir’s continued ire. The dwarf then dropped their things and proceeded to walk to the chamber where Karega and Elodie had just been. They grumbled to themselves unintelligibly, though Elodie guessed they were cursing herself and Karega for getting them drenched in spider gore.

They inspected the rune work on the wall, then began to pull different levers.

“It is required for the Shapers to know the ancient tongue.” They explained tersely before turning from the wall and heading back out to the baths.

Pritte danced around happily as he stared up at the ceiling where water was now flowing from into one of the larger baths.

“Marvelous! Great work, Effir!” He then quickly began to strip, seemingly uncaring for those that saw him.

Karega was the next to begin disrobing. Elodie and Effir turned away while they both quietly shucked off their rancid smelling robes. It had formed some sort of sticky seal to Elodie’s skin and she gagged as she pealed it off.

“This is disgusting.” She grumbled.

“I hate spiders.” Effir groused before turning and quickly sinking into the bath. Elodie soon followed, testing the water. It was warm, though not to the usual degree Elodie took hers, but she supposed that was easily rectified…if the dwarves did not mind a bit of magic.

“Would you mind me making the water warmer with magic?” She asked politely. Pritte looked wildly excited by the whole idea, scrambling up over the edge of the bath to grab his notebook. Karega frowned and Effir was about to deliver the hard ‘yes’ to the question when Karega shrugged.

“Very well, as long as you won’t fry us.”

Elodie nodded and grabbed her staff, then drove the end of it down into the water, hitting the bottom. She murmured a few words and drew the warming rune. It flickered orange then simmered out and soon the temperature began to rise. Steam was floating off the top in no time, turning them all into flushed versions of themselves.

The bath was amazing. Elodie scrubbed all of the spider gore off of herself, and potentially a layer of skin, but it was worth it to feel clean and refreshed. She was convinced that the water had some mineral in it to aid with cleaning, but she could not tell what it was.

Pritte set to cleaning his beard meticulously, though he babbled on about how he was limited in that there weren’t just some beard oils laying around and oh dear, he forgot to pack some. Effir, like Elodie, scrubbed until raw, but they seemed much less tense with all the ichor now sloughed away.

Karega actually relaxed in the warm water. She leaned back against the wall and let her head dip back; Elodie thought she even took a nap.

The warming glyph eventually wore off and they exited the bath with long sighs. Pritte set to work drying himself off, and with all the hair covering his body, Elodie was a little concerned he would be drying for days rather than hours.

Elodie told Effir to sleep, that she would take first watch and wash their clothes. They scowled at her but eventually reluctantly agreed, seeing as they could barely keep their eyes open.

One of the good things about the Deep Roads was that there was little need for an actual tent, which reduced the amount of stuff they had to carry with them. That being said, Pritte somehow produced a tent-like tarp, pinning it to the wall, creating some privacy for those who wished to sleep.

Elodie took watch and wash, settling down by the now partially murky water to begin the slow process of cleaning fabric covered in spider guts.

She was not twenty minutes in when Karega tapped her shoulder. Elodie turned, surprised to see the woman in such soft clothing for the Deep. But more shocking was she was holding a small portrait that looked very familiar…

“It fell out of your pack when we moved it into the tent,” she handed it to Elodie. The mage took it with a small smile, and looked down at the now rumpled and fading micro-portrait of Alistair. She started carrying it with her when her duties took her away from him. Which made it ten years old. Maker.

“Thank you, I would have missed this.”

“Your husband, I take it?” Karega settled herself next to Elodie, still angling her head at the portrait.

“Not…exactly. He is my love and I am his, but we are not married. He is the king of Ferelden and when he ascended the throne, he had to marry the current queen to ensure unity, which we desperately needed.”

Karega paused for a moment then nodded, “You are his…concubine? Is that the correct word?”

“Oh goodness no! I am his Mistress. It’s a little funny, we were both so hesitant about that but when he became king and I remained at his side, absolutely no one was surprised…or even remotely upset. Even the queen was agreeable with the arrangement.” She tucked the small portrait into her clothes and resumed cleaning the battle robes. But Karega remained, still contemplating.

“Who mothers his children?” She suddenly asked. Ah. Yes, that question. It was always that question. ‘Yes, but who does he sleep with? Didn’t he have to sleep with her? Didn’t that hurt you?’ No, it didn’t. And she wasn’t less for it not hurting. She felt no remorse about Morrigan or about Anora, they were both necessary, and he loved her, not them. Sex was sex was sex.

“Anora, the queen, gave birth to his son, and heir apparent, seven years ago. We…I cannot bear children,” her voice was soft and the old failures crept into her.

The first pregnancy, they had been so happy, ecstatic. Duncan was only a year old and everyone was thrilled to think that he would have a sibling he could be so close to. Alistair had spent that entire month with a goofy smile on his face, cradling his son his arms and touching Elodie’s stomach whenever he had the chance.

The miscarriage was a shock for most, but Elodie was somewhat expecting it. The taint…it ran deep and she knew that bearing a child while riddled with it could be almost impossible.

The second pregnancy was approached with wary excitement. They kept it secret, just Anora, Alistair, and Elodie plus the healers knew. When that miscarriage came, it wasn’t so surprising, but it still hurt, and like the first time, she locked herself in her room for two days, crying.

Her hand fluttered to her stomach and she recalled the third pregnancy. It was the shortest one, lasting only a week after she found out. There and then suddenly gone.

It was the fourth that was the worst. She had the healers swear not to tell anyone until she was past the first trimester. And then the fourth month arrived and she broke out in excited tears. This was the one! Her baby! Her child! But she was careful, and they kept the pregnancy secret once more so as to not stress Elodie and the baby.

A miscarriage in the fifth month was nothing she would ever wish upon anyone. It was more than a miscarriage, of thick blood and cramping. It was a death, tragic and devastating. And the scars were longer lasting, her body not fully recovered and her heart bearing a wound that would never heal completely.

She stopped trying for a child after that, and began searching for a cure. She could be happy with being a second mother to Duncan, and she was. It was not a lack of love that made her want a child with Alistair, but because she loved Duncan…and wanted to be a mother again.

Elodie blinked the memories away and looked at the small portrait in her hands. He looked so young in the portrait, short hair, and a thinner face.

“He looks like a child without a beard,” Karega commented absently.

“Oh he has a beard now, nice and full, not to worry,” Elodie teased. She glanced down at her hands, still healing from the lyrium burns but also still strangely mottled from the blighted tissue removal. She hadn’t told him, but…he probably knew, could feel the taint getting stronger in her than in him.

Wardens made during the Blight had it worse. She was supposed to have thirty years, and it was looking like she got thirteen max.

She was going to die, taken by the thing that had once saved her from a life of imprisonment and ridicule. She would never have reached her full potential in the Circle, would have either languished in complacency or been made Tranquil once they discovered just how powerful she was…or when she began to speak out against the injustices put upon the mages by the Chantry and its Templars.

She would never have met Alistair in the Circle. This life…however short and tragic, was a monumental improvement over the lack of one in the Circle. She would not have loved, not have learned how to embrace her magic, she would never have met some of the most amazing friends and people. And in the end, when she ventured back out into the Deep Roads that actually had Darkspawn, she would be grateful for these thirteen years. Elodie Amell had done a lot of good, had enjoyed a lot of wonderful things, and come death came rest.

The night continued on and Elodie was eventually forced to retire into a wary sleep. And like the previous nights, the hallucinations returned.

A song more infectious and seducing than anything she had ever heard flitted through the air. It led her down halls and up pathways, then down slick passages. There was lyrium everywhere, but none of it was creating such a song. She dove deeper into the depths of the roads until coming to a great pulsating lyrium vein. It ran the height of a pillar once covered in runes, only to now be squeezed by the lifeblood of the Titan.

It drew her in and she was helpless to not sink to her knees, pressing it into the base of the lyrium while she pressed her hands to it.

She gasped as images flooded her mind. She expected to see the man diving into the ball of light once more, but instead she saw…a woman. Taller and slimmer than any dwarven woman, dressed in beautiful ceremonial armor. Her form wavered and suddenly she was standing in front of the great ball of light, a man stood in front of her, himself clad in stronger armor with a great battle-axe waving menacingly at the tall woman.

But she merely outstretched her hand and a…red tinted magic emerged like slithering shadows from her arm, sinking into the man.

There was a scream, a bright flash of light, then a hiss, and Elodie shot up awake in her bed, the palms of her hands bleeding from the burns.

What…was that? She had believed that the first vision had been of Karega’s husband being chosen and that was symbol enough to draw her to the Titan, but this…this was nothing like that.

A woman, overtaking a man defending the Titan? Was this woman…her? Was she supposed to do something like that? That had been sinister magic, nothing like what Elodie actually practiced.

Or was this a story of some sort? Did this happen in the past? And if so…what did this have to do with her?

Elodie went through the ritual of patching her hands, hissing in pain at how tender her flesh was. The burns were excruciating and the dabbing and healing and bandaging didn’t seem to lessen the pain.

“Alright, Long Legs! Time to head out! Let’s move,” Karega shouted from outside.

“Just a minute!” Elodie replied before murmuring a healing spell into her hands and then changing into her traveling robes. They weren’t perfect after yesterday’s encounter with the spider, but they would have to do. She packed the rest of her things and ran off to continue the trek into the deep.

**

The deeper they delved into the earth, the more her wounds burned. It started as a dull throbbing, but by the end of the fifth day of walking, her body itched and ached from the pain. The hallucinations happened nightly and her body was slowly becoming more encompassed by the burns. There was only so much elfroot could do to stop the pain and the pain itself was fatiguing, requiring them to make more frequent stops for her to regain herself.

Her body groaned under the stress, and as they climbed through yet another spider passage, she hissed at the pain of her skin sliding against the rocks. Tears slipped down her face, dripping in an angle down her neck and onto a burn that hissed at the contact.

She was dying, but she had to keep going.

On the sixth day, the roads ended. A hush fell over the group as they stared at the awaiting abyss.

The only way was forward.

They took a collective deep breath and sojourned forth. Elodie bounced up a light for herself only to have Effir hiss at her to put it out. There were other creatures here who would be drawn to the light, and that she would just have to rely on the dwarven eyesight to see her through.

They attached ropes to themselves, mostly for her benefit she thinks, and slowly began to trudge forward. She had never come across a darkness so complete in her life. No light pollution or refraction from stars or the moon – just…pitch black. Not even lyrium veins seemed to touched this place.

She slid her hands across the rock to keep her righted and with the group. She wished they could talk to further help guide her, but noise in this eerie quiet could spell disaster for them, so she kept quiet.

The darkness stretched on for hours until finally, a faint glow emerged. Relief flooded Elodie as she took a step toward it.

The light moved.

A low sound of discomfort escaped Karega followed by the sound of steel being freed from its holster. Elodie grabbed her staff and ignored the pain in her hands, watching the slow movement of the light. It bobbed slightly before…suddenly leaping up high.

The rope tugged on Elodie and she moved along with the dwarves. They’re being stalked, these were close quarters, it was time to move.

The pace was quicker than before but she fully approved of moving as quickly as possible as a hiss seemed to start at the far end of the cavern and more lights appeared, bobbing and moving even more quickly than the group could manage.

Her feet found the edges of rocks, her body slamming occasionally into the walls. Pain. So much pain, but she had to keep going.

The only way was forward.

The hissing got louder and soon she could hear the thumps of the creatures landing on the rocks above them, nails scraping against the stone as they moved. Vibrations from whatever communicative noises they made filled the void spurring the group to hustle even more quickly.

When the first creature leapt down at them, it purposefully missed. Elodie turned, found the light and sent a warning burst of magic at it.

It growled in pain and the vibrations in the cavern only seemed to increase. She had angered them, shit. The creature behind her leapt once more and this time she was forced to use lethal magic, sending forth a sharp burst of telekinetic energy. There was a sickening crunch and then the light went out.

The vibrations stopped.

Lights around the cavern went out.

Elodie swallowed thickly and prayed that they had left.

Karega screamed as she hit the ground. Effir lunged forward, pulling the group with them as they hacked into the creature attacking their queen.

“Skrimmers!” Pritte declared as he hustled forward as well to aid Effir. The creature, a skrimmer, howled in pain as axes hacked into its hide. Elodie kept her head on a swivel and drew up a barrier around them. She made it exceptionally physical to keep more of these creatures from attacking.

“HRAH!” Karega shouted as the skrimmer was finally slain and hauled off her body.

She shouted something them in her language and they were barreling down the cavern.

“What are those things?!” Elodie shouted.

“Skrimmers! Fabled ancestors of the deepstalkers! Rumored to be twice the size with two heads, brain is located in the body cavity!” Pritte shouted back. Body cavity, that’s where she should aim, got it.

A skimmer hissed and jumped at her from above, but she anticipated the blow and stepped forward before it could land on her. She whipped around and shot ice into the thing, severing its worm-like heads and burying them into the body.

It sputtered and died before Elodie was tugged back along by the rope. She could hear the footfalls of the skrimmers above, hissing to communicate as they jumped down at them.

Elodie tossed up another barrier as two landed, shielding them from more. She felt the hits to her barrier and staged under the weight. There was…power in them, potentially lyrium based, and it wanted to shatter the barrier.

“I can’t help with them!” She cried, but the dwarves seemed more than capable of handling the monsters.

Karega began to spin and promptly hacked into the skrimmers as Effir bludgeoned their heads with their hammer.

A large skrimmer slammed into Elodie’s barrier and she winced. Every blow hurt, but that was the nature of physical barriers, natural extensions of yourself to prevent actual harm to yourself.

She screamed as acid was suddenly spewed against the barrier, her already tender flesh feeling as if it was being sloughed away.

She couldn’t maintain this, it was too much, they were too much. But she couldn’t see them, couldn’t let loose specific attacks that would kill them but not her and her group.

The darkness pressed on them and the lights were still hidden from the creatures.

You’ll have to rely on our eyesight.

Creatures here are sensitive to light, you’ll make us a target!

Sensitive to light!

“CLOSE YOUR EYES!” She shouted and promptly dropped the barrier to draw in all her strength. And let it billow out in brilliant light.

The skrimmers hissed in pain as they flinched away from her. The light died down and she opened her eyes on the last of the dying light to see where they were…and let out a torrent of ice spikes down the cavern.

She slammed her staff down, then whipped it up, directing the magic into their soft underbellies. She extended the ice as far up as she could get it, up and away, impaling and destroying them in undoubted death.

When it was done, a wall of ice containing the broken bodies of a dozen giant skrimmers glowed before them, giving them just enough light to see.

“You can open your eyes now.” Elodie huffed, falling fatigued against a stone wall.

“Shit, Long Legs, that is…impressive,” Karega breathed. Effir watched her closely for a moment before nodding and turning from her.

“Are all mages capable of that, El-o-die?” Pritte asked, fascinated and seemingly no less for wear. Elodie smiled down at him and shook her head.

“No. Magic is unique in every mage, and I have…had some unique experiences that have allowed me to grow my magic.”

“You can grow magic?”

“Like how you build a muscle, more like. Here,” she took his notebook and piece of charcoal, scribbling on it, “when you make contact with the surface, contact the Inquisition and ask for correspondence with their Arcanist, Dagna. She’s a dwarf who studies magic, I think you’d get along great.” She handed the book back and his face lit up.

“A dwarf who studies magic? Fascinating!”

“Pritte, we got some carvings over here, care to translate?” Karega stepped up to them, her rope temporarily removed. Pritte untied himself from Elodie and quickly excused himself to go inspect the carvings with Effir.

Karega stood before Elodie, quiet, imposing. Elodie let out a long breath and looked down at her hands, still covered in barely recovering lyrium burns.

“Can you walk?” Karega asked, her voice low so the others could not hear.

Elodie nodded but it was not reassuring, “You said I had two weeks, but I do not know if I even have three more days. How much longer to the ruin?”

“If we walk through the night, we can reach it by next day.”

“Then we walk through the night,” Elodie decided. Karega nodded, understanding, before calling for a break to eat. They were going to need all the energy they could get for this next stretch.

**

Her feet ached. Her skin burned. Her head was starting to feel light when the cavern finally opened up and lyrium branches once again resumed to wrap around the rocks. Giant, almost encased river-like lyrium that branched out over every surface of rock possible.

Her teeth rattled in her skull, but it felt good to be able to see again. The rope was removed from her once more, relieving her already stressed back. She leaned a bit more than normal on her staff as she followed Karega into the depths.

The rock began to change color, slowly warping into strange colors under the influence of the lyrium, she imagined. Oil slick colors seemed to cover rounded surfaces while younger stone appeared to be jagged and dull.

There was no dirt, only rock and lyrium as the cavern opened up. Oh. There was also steam…which meant water and fire of some sort, potentially lava. The walkways were suspended over what looked to be an unending chasm, steam billowing up from its depths.

It was interesting, she thought, that even so deep underground, one could find suspended high enough to die.

Pritte stepped forward, “Amazing…” he murmured.

They crossed the bridge and passed into an oddly shaped cavern. There were eroded striations in the rock and precise cuts that allowed the light from a lyrium vein to bleed through. The lines were mostly straight only worn with time, which meant….

“This was shaped by someone.”

“Clearly,” Effir said, inspecting the work more closely. They pulled out their journal and made some quick notes before Karega gestured for them to keep going.

“We’re getting close to where Gurendar disappeared, keep up.” Karega led them through the passage and across a short bridge into another passage that opened up into a great hall. Its ceilings weren’t as tall and overwhelming as the bathhouse, but the pillars were larger, the statues were more ornate and the lyrium had been cultivated along the walls into designated channels for optimal aesthetic appeal. To conserve energy, Elodie did not illuminate the space. Pritte stayed close to her, helping to guide her through the low light.

“You don’t have to stay by me, I know you want to explore,” she told him.

“I do. But you need me more at the moment. Besides, I am thinking of having another expedition down here after this whole thing is settled. You would think we’d know more about this place, but we don’t. It’s quite unfortunate,” Pritte rambled, his voice low and gentle as they maneuvered through the space.

“We don’t know more because of superstition,” Effir commented, falling just a bit behind Karega to join the conversation.

“The senior shapers tell tales of disturbances down here that no dwarf should ever encounter and has long forbid entry without good reason.”

“And this is the good reason.”

“The only reason good enough, to be precise.”

Karega suddenly stopped and held up a hand, “Quiet.” Everyone went on alert, heads turning to examine the wings of the hall. Other than the soft light emanating from the lyrium veins stretching up into the ceiling, coiling around pillars, Elodie couldn’t see anything. But then she heard it. Whispers like the drifting fluff off a dandelion.

Her magic rose in her, orienting her to the far left end of the hall. Her skin prickled and her lyrium burns itched, but she drifted closer to the whispers. The lyrium pulsed a bit more brightly and the whispers moved. Fuzzy, white figures began to coalesce into actual forms of dwarves gathered in the hall.

Karega and Effir shifted away instinctively away from the stone spirits, apparently unaccustomed. Pritte took it in stride, gasping in surprise but yanking a new journal out of his pack to begin furiously scribbling.

Elodie turned to Karega and Effir, lifting her hand in reassurance, “I’ve seen this before in the Deep Roads by Orzammar and Kal-Hirol. They’re harmless…usually.” She recalled the spirits turning on her and her party with vicious intent as they had explored the City of the Dead. She had made sure to be more vigilant about her behavior in Kal-Hirol, where the spirits had been so numerous. The death had weakened the Fade, even in the depths of the roads. It was so weak that the spirits had looked different from those beneath Orzammar. The Kal-Hirol spirits had faces, discernable features, clear, resonant voices, their memories forcefully stamped into the stone.

Karega and Effir relaxed somewhat, but their weapons remained out and their eyes sharp as they watched the spirits flow over the stone. They crossed into the center portion of the hall and a reverberation carried through the hall and into Elodie. She shivered, hair and magic on raw end as the spirits solidified into forms that resembled the spirits of Kal-Hirol more than Orzammar.

They spoke in the ancient tongue, five in total.

“They’re discussing war plans,” Effir murmured.

The forms moved and living dwarves fell silent as they strove to listen and record everything they were hearing. Elodie wondered if she should tell them now that this scene would likely repeat after completion. But she remained quiet and the scene continued. More spirits joined the fray and their faces became more distinct, the details in their attire more profound, making a Elodie’s stomach churn in anxiety. These dwarves were about to be slaughtered.

All at once the spirits turned their heads, looking past Elodie and her crew, down the hall to where Elodie suspected were invaders.

The lyrium around them pulsed, the stone groaned, and the entire space lit up in brilliant display. Elodie felt the Veil waver, pulling back to reveal new spirits, looking more like echoes from the surface than the Stone, running through the hall. The dwarven spirits braced themselves, there shouts and Pritte flinched, coiling inwards on himself as he inched towards Elodie.

In the middle of the invading force stood the tall woman that seemed vaguely familiar. It reminded Elodie of her hallucinations, of a woman standing over the cliff of blinding light, sinking her magic into the dwarf before her…. But this woman was different, in a way. She carried herself with a righteous regality that was unlike the threatening and consuming stance of the woman from Elodie’s hallucinations.

Her spirit let out a brilliant display of old magic, so potent and horrible that Elodie flinched from it, instinctually tossing a barrier up around her and the dwarves. The remembered spell coursed through the hall and engulfed the dwarven spirits, killing them instantaneously.

Effir and Pritte gasped while Karega growled, gripping her weapon with vicious intent. But there was nothing to be done, these were echoes of an event long since passed. The spirits remained, the woman glided through the halls and into more clarity. Elodie’s eyes widened, she was an elf. They were all elves. Tall and slender, bedecked in elaborate armor that wavered with magical enchantment not so unlike the dwarves.

When the woman began to speak, Elodie blinked, surprised she could understand her.

“A pity. They would have served well.”

“Shall we continue, my lady?”

“Of course. There is no time to waste.”

The spirits wavered and dissipated, the Stone no longer supporting the memory far past the death of its own. Pritte sniffled, eyes wide as he turned to Elodie.

“Is it too much to hope you know what they said?” His voice wavered but his hand was still, hovering over his notes. Elodie took a breath and nodded.

“They…were disappointed at having to kill the dwarves. The woman, the leader, said that the dwarves would of served well. Then they moved on, presumably in a hurry.” Pritte took to his journal as did Effir.

“Someone care to tell me what in the Stone’s name was that?!” Karega demanded. Effir glanced up from their notes and slowly put the journal away.

“The Stone takes in the memories. Shapers can make the Stone take it, shaping it into the stone, hence the name. But the practice was inspired by its natural ability to do this. To record. And to sometimes show. This was a memory, Paragon-Elect,” they explained with the slightest twinge in their voice.

“Memories like this one from my experience form because of great fighting and battles. Death,” Elodie continued.

Karega fell silent, her face harsh in the low light.

“Who was that elf? What was she doing down here and slaughtering my people for?” She asked, perhaps more to herself than the others.

“There are no records of this,” was all Pritte could say.

“I thought the you recorded everything.”

“If there is no one to report something, there is nothing to record, just…for the Stone to absorb,” Effir answered.

Karega let out a breath and straightened, “It’s unfortunate, but we are also running low on time. We need to move.” She picked up her axe and set forward again, her stride strong. Effir tossed their pack onto their back and followed Karega, their footfalls heavy and laden with exhaustion.

“I do not understand,” Pritte murmured as he put his things away, “the elves…why would they come down here?”

“I don’t know, Pritte, I don’t know.”

She rested a hand on his shoulder and patted it gratitude before they marched after Karega into a dark side chamber. This chamber was less ornate than the other but a vein of lyrium ran overhead, illuminating the area. Wispy spirits drifted into the room but didn’t say anything, they were just there, unformed until the elven woman and her entourage billowed through, killing the dwarves along the way.

There were three consecutive rooms like this until they came to a final chamber that just…stopped. There were no passages leading out which to Elodie meant to keep looking for a different passage but the dwarves pressed their palms to the far wall.

“We need to go this way,” Effir affirmed.

“There is unfortunately a wall there, we should look for a route around.”

“There is only one way,” Karega agreed and stepped back. She trailed her hands over the wall and Elodie’s magic began to prick at her skin. The lyrium pulsed, flickering and snapping making Elodie’s head pound. Memories flowed into the space, dwarves in ancient heavy armor formed a tight barrier in front of the door, shouting at each other. Effir scrambled for their journal, needing to record.

When the elven woman and her group entered the memory there was shouting on both sides. She switched to the dwarven speech, her voice saccharine sweet and condescending, making Effir huff in distaste.

The dwarves growled a reply that displeased the woman enough to let out a disappointed sigh. She gave her people an order that had them straightening their backs and raising their hands.

They set to cast. The dwarves charged. The relatively confined space was filled all at once with battle and blood, screams, and close quarters combat that the elves should not have stood a chance in.

The warrior elves surged forward to protect their lady, becoming a shield of armored bodies. The spirits flashed into different colors as spells were cast. But the dwarves were unrelenting, pushing and pushing. The elves broke rank and fell back only for a new spirit to suddenly invade the space. A great reptilian head suddenly extended into the space and let out a torrent of fire against the dwarves. Trapped in the room, the dwarves screamed, flailed, and died under the heat.

The dragon stepped into the room and bumped its head against the far wall where Karega, Effir, and Pritte stood. They gasped, shutting their eyes in some expectation to be hit. But it was only a memory of the dragon shoving and shoving against the wall until there was a loud crashing sound.

The dragon pulled back, its head bloody. Its form wavered and suddenly an elf stood where the dragon was, bloody but grinning. They turned back and the leader smiled.

“You did well.”

The memory faded as the elves pressed forward.

Karega growled, “What in the Stone’s name was that nonsense?”

“That elf turned into a dragon,” Pritte commented, more in awe than anything. Elodie blinked and let out a long breath. Well.

“I knew there were shapeshifters, but I did not know that there were shapeshifters who were once capable of that,” Elodie supplied.

“What? The elves don’t just sprout into dragons anymore?”

“I was not even aware that they ever did!”

Karega turned from Elodie and began to curse as she felt along the scarred wall for…something. Elodie leaned against her staff and contemplated. Elves that could turn into dragons. Elves that invaded the deep roads to what? Enslave dwarves?

Elves…that could turn into dragons.

Oh. Oh sweet Maker.

There was no real confirmation that they would be the Archdemons but the thought, the fact that long ago this was possible…could that mean…they were susceptible to the Blight? That the dragon-appearing Archdemons were just that – dragon-appearing because they were not truly dragons but…elves? Elves were susceptible to the blight, they became either Shrieks or Emissaries, depending on magical ability. And maybe…if they were infected while in draconic form…as Archdemons.

Elodie excused herself for a moment and ran into the hall to vomit. She panted and cleaned her mouth out with water and some of the ale they packed. It was just an idea of what the Archdemons were, and really, it was a better hope than thinking they were actually divine figures – just extraordinarily powerful mages. Who could make their souls somehow jump from body to body.

Right.

She rejoined the dwarves in the room who were now bickering in their language to figure out to get the blasted door open. Pritte scrambled along the far left of the wall while Effir handled the bottom. Karega made some sort of odd shimmying move before brightening.

“Aha!” She proclaimed before pushing harder into the wall. The Stone groaned and creaked as the wall began to move outward. Old, stale air blew into the room and light beamed in so brightly that Elodie had to close her eyes to adjust.

When she opened them, all of her breath left her.

Karega had said that Gurendar had fled into an ancient city but she thought they had already made it to the city but no, the comparatively minuscule chambers were nothing compared to the cavernous grandeur before her.

Buildings rose from mist covered depths, built on what appeared to be miniature mountains. More buildings were built into the sides of these outcroppings, with long bridges connecting each rock. There were trees growing out of the sides of the space, walls covered in lichens, mosses, and even vines. The buildings were reminiscent of the architecture in Kal-Sharok but unique and striking.

“Is this…”

“The home of the Titan,” Karega said, brimming with pride.

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