Everyone was silent, barely a sound was uttered or made as everyone fell into complete silence. They had moved to a small room, filled with little save for a few tables and sitting cushions. None of them could stand to stay in the chamber housing the Eluvian any longer, just looking at it caused more pain than it was worth.
They had gone into the simple chamber as a means of discussion. Of course, after what had happened, words needed to be spoken. After what had happened, they needed to discuss what had attacked them. Despite their reasons however, they entered the chamber with not a word on their lips, none of them able to find their voices. Though there was much to say, no one could bear the thought of bringing it up.
Celestia and Luna were lying atop a few cushions on the floor. It was clear how taxing their aid with the Eluvian had been for them. Much of their power had yet to return to them, their sunken gazes looking as though they hadn't slept for days, their once flowing manes and tails hanging limply against them. Only time would return them to their older selves, but it wouldn't be see easy for them to recover from what they had failed to do.
The others, the bipedal creatures visiting from another land, all made their areas their own. Sitting down on a short stool, Alistair's wide eyes stared blankly at the floor, his face buried in his hands. Oghren leaned against the wall, unblinkingly looking over his ax as he turned it around in his hands. In the corner of the room where the shadows seemed to mostly congregate, Shale stood forlorn, running a rocky hand across the deep cuts in its chest.
Near the far side of the room, Anders stood over a table covered in cushions, Fluttershy lying atop. Dabbed in blood, his hand glowed with a light green aura as he gingerly ran it across the mare's wounded side. The pegasus was strong, shutting her eyes as she allowed the mage to work his magic on her, only ever showing signs of pain by an occasional flinch of cringe. The lyrium ring was clutched tightly in Anders' other hand, stinging the bandaged cut as the small amount of power within the magical stone helped him to heal the injured pony.
A relieved sigh and a weak smile made its way onto the mage's face as he saw the deep cuts in Fluttershy's side shrink. Before his very eyes, his magic worked its wonders and the light flow of blood stopped, the raw flesh losing its flaring red color. “There,” he breathed, the magic in his hand stopping as he took the nearby bandages and dressed what was left of the injury. “It wasn't too bad, Fluttershy. You'll be weak and a little sore for a long while though. And don't try to fly, a few feathers had been cut and you'll reopen the wound trying.”
The yellow-coated mare smiled lightly as she looked at the work that Anders had done, a fading joy in her expression as she nuzzled against the mage, murmuring, “Thank you.”
“I've never been given any reason to thank the Maker for anything in my life,” Anders said, wrapping his arms around the pegasus, holding her in a simple hug as to not disturb her injury. “But... I can't thank him enough now. I'm just glad you're alright.”
Breaking away from the hug, Fluttershy still held her soft smile, but it lessened slightly as her eyes trailed downward to the mage's bandaged hand. “And you...?” she replied. “Are you alright?”
Knowing what she was asking, Anders gave an involuntary glance to his own hand, still feeling the sting of the cut across his palm. “Yeah... yeah, I'll be fine,” he replied, his tone giving little reassurance. “It was a one time thing, something I wouldn't do unless desperate. But... I guess I can see why the more power-hungry mages are drawn to it. I only wish I had done it to save a life, not to....” He trailed off, realizing where he was going and unable to continue.
Alistair could only continue staring at the floor, lightly shaking his head back and forth. “No... no, no no, no...” he began to murmur. “This isn't... This isn't how things were supposed to happen.” Even as the horrific scene played back in his mind, the Warden-King could barely grasp what had occurred. How he had lost a dear friend, a brother-in-arms, someone who was like family to him.
“That... thing, we couldn't even seem to hurt it. I guess he figured there was only one way to stop it. It's just hard to imagine a world without him...” Anders muttered, his own life having been changed so much by knowing the Warden-Commander.
“Even I have to say I am surprised,” Shale said, the golem's words hollowed with a tone that almost sounded like sadness. “What it... he did was certainly commendable. Even for a creature of flesh... he had a strength to rival any golem.”
“Aye,” Oghren said firmly, setting his ax aside as he folded his arms. “He was the finest warrior this dwarf has ever seen.” A hearty chuckle escaped him. “I remember... when that sodding Blight was on us, the fool goes and takes it on himself with nothing but more fools to follow. No matter what it was, the guy never hesitated to run headlong into danger. Nothing was too much for him, even the Archdemon...”
Oghren held up a hefty bottle of alcohol. The dwarf had sniffed it out in a matter of minutes, a treat from Celestia to be taken in celebration before they were finally about to return home. Given the circumstances however, celebrating was the last thing on their minds. “To our favorite commander!” he toasted. “A great sodding guy, and a paragon among humans!” Popping the cork off of the bottle, the dwarf brought it up to his mouth. But he hesitated, the rim of the bottle just about to touch his lips. After a long while of a pause, he heaved a sigh and the dwarf set the bottle aside, no longer having a taste for it.
Not all were present in the room with the others. While they went off to feel their sorrow together, Twilight had separated herself. The young scholar took a slow, painful walk to the guest rooms, finding the commander's just as it had been left. Just being there made her feel all the worse, as every ounce of sadness began pour out of her.
Twilight collapsed onto the bed, her sobs muffled by the pillow as she cried. Standing silently by her side, her faithful assistant Spike stood at the ready. Though the dragon was not fully aware of what the mare was going through, he at least knew that his caretaker was hurting. It brought on stings of pain into his own heart, unable to comfort her in such a time of grief. All he could do was stand there, determined to help her in anyway if it chose to reveal itself.
“It's my fault,” Twilight whimpered out, her sobbing halting for just a moment as her quaking voice spoke. “It's all my fault.”
Of course, the pain of losing the one she cared for was tremendous for the unicorn, tearing into her deeper than any weapon ever could. Though she knew she had to be prepared for the commander to leave her, this was nowhere near what she could have ever braced herself for. Heightening all of the crippling misery was the consuming thoughts of her own blame in all of it. No matter how much her distraught mind looked at it, all she could think on was how the Warden would still be alive had it not been for her. Had she been stronger, had she not allowed herself to need being rescued, then none of it would have happened.
Her body trembled constantly as her tears soaked into the pillow she pressed herself against. All she wanted now was to be with him again, if only for a single moment. The yearning pain in her heart making it all the more unbearable as it fully sank into her that the human was gone forever.
Spike continued his silent vigil over his caretaker. As he stood there however, a gasp escaped him as he wheeled around, feeling a third presence. Twilight's crying stopped as well, the mare's ears twitching as she heard a sharp shrieking noise of grinding rock, like knives running across stone.
There was only darkness, a black corridor that was consumed by an abyss. Nothing could be seen in all directions, as though the world and everything in it was gone. Then, in the furthest reaches of the black nothingness, a dim, flickering light shined through. Compared to the darkness, the simple light was like the sun itself. Only the urge to move forward could be felt, the light growing more and more. Getting so close to the beautiful light, you could almost reach out and grab it. To feel your fingers wrap around ti and hold it close, even as the abyss dissipated and was swallowed by the light itself.
A sharp intake of breath awoke him, his eyes forcibly opening as his lungs filled themselves. Pain was the only thing that could be felt. Every muscle felt as though it had been torn pieces, every joint might as well have been stone, and his sensitive eyes ached as they looked up at the flickering light of the lantern that was hung on the wall right above him.
Reaching out to grab it, the strength in his arm was yanked away from him, causing the limb to fall to the side and strike the hard surface of a small table. A wet, cool sensation graced his fingertips as the dipped into a bowl set atop of the table. With weak, slow movements, his hand gripped the bowl shakily as he brought it closer to him, his parched mouth opening as it was tipped over his face.
Though he barely got any of the water, most of it running down the sides of his face, what little he did catch in his mouth was drank eagerly, as though he had been lost in a scorching desert. Still though, the water did nothing to wash away the taste of blood in his dry mouth. Fulfilling its use, the bowl slipped from his grasp, falling away to be put out of mind. However, there was no missed reaction as the faint sound of an amused huff made it to his ears.
“My, my, you are awake far sooner than I had anticipated,” a woman said, her familiar voice echoing in his ears. It caused his eyes to widen to their fullest, pained groans escaping him as he forced his resisting body to move.
With a great deal of effort, he managed to look in the direction that the voice had come from. As he looked upon who had spoken to him, the breath was stolen from his lungs as his eyes fell on the slender form of a woman, hair as black as a raven's feathers, holding an indifferent expression of examination and boredom.
Immediately upon seeing her face, a name formed in his fluttering thoughts. “M... Morrigan...?” the Warden-Commander croaked out, his voice scratchy and near-impossible to form.
Approaching him, the witch held something in her hands. Seeing her coming closer, the commander pathetically thrashed in place, his expression almost looking threatening had he not been in his current condition. “N-no,” he managed to say, “y-you can't... can't be real. Another... trick... St-stay... back...”
A simple frown formed on the woman's lips as continued to close the distance between herself and him. Leaning over him, she held up a small bowl, filled with a thick purple liquid. “You're still not fully well yet,” she murmured, her tone dully emotionless. “Here, drink this, it will make you better.” It was hardly a request, being more a command as she pressed the bowl to the commander's lips. Too weak to resist, there was nothing he could do except to drink the strange concoction.
Almost immediately, as the purple fluid flowed down his throat, the effects of it hit him. A gagging, stunted cry of pain came from him as his entire body seized up. Every muscle in his body tensed suddenly, becoming stiffer than steel for several moments. Then, just as quickly, his body became numb, the pit of his chest burning with a blazing heat. As soon as that subsided, his entire body seemed to relax all at once, feeling soothed and comfortable, if still partially weak.
“It's the same medicine I gave you the last time you and your fool of a friend showed up injured on my doorstep,” Morrigan remarked, watching the Warden squirm from the concoction. “Though, I suppose you were only half-conscious that time.”
Sitting up, the commander finally realized that he had been lying on a bed, the mattress being filled with straw while the covers looked to be made from animal furs. Confusion wracked his disoriented senses as he rubbed his head and looked around. It looked as though they were in a small shack, being only one room with four walls. It was strangely similar in appearance to the old hut that the witch once called home in the Korcari Wilds.
A fire pit was set up at the far off corner, a broiling cauldron hanging above it while steam began to rise. Something told him that it wasn't filled with dinner. Furniture and decoration was sparse, with only a few tables and chairs set up, and a couple animal-skin rugs placed on the floor. Morrigan herself looked different than the last time the Warden had seen her as well. Her hair was much longer, her bangs dangling even further down her face while she allowed the rest of it to hang freely, nearly reaching her shoulders. Gone were her usual revealing black robes, instead wearing a mix of black fabric and animal furs stitched together. Despite the obvious appearance of function over fashion, it still looked nice.
It took sometime for the commander to take in his surroundings however, his thoughts still a rattling mess inside of his head. He wasn't even able to form questions as he rubbed his eyes in an attempt to settle his confusion and his senses.
Walking to the cauldron, Morrigan began to stir the contents of the pot as she spoke, creating even more confusing questions rather than filling in with answers. “I must give you credit,” she murmured, eyes falling down into the bubbling liquid of the cauldron. “It's strange, as I've found myself thinking of you more and more as of late... Then, out of nowhere, I find you here now, a distance away from my home, lying in a pool of your own blood no less. You were certainly lucky as well. Had I had not found you when I did, your corpse would have surely made a wandering predator very happy.” A small exhale of a sight escaped her as she shook her head disapprovingly. “It's also very curious how you managed to get in the state you were in. Where you just tripping over your own sword? Seems like the activity I'd expect from Alistair. Thankfully, mother's magic has proved useful, especially when it came to pulling you from the brink of oblivion.”
Gasping with surprise and realization, the Warden-Commander looked himself over for the first time. All of his armor was missing, noticing that it was lying in a pile next to his sword by the wall. The shirt he wore under it was stained terribly with blood, with no hope of saving the fabric as a wearable piece of attire. There was also the noticeable tears in it, the front of the shirt being torn to near-tatters. Lifting up the article of clothing, exposing his bare chest as it was covered in bandages.
Ripping the bandages from his body, the Warden's hands frantically ran across his exposed chest. All he could do was stare at the sight in trembling shock. There wasn't a single wound on him, all that remained were a number of scars, the flesh around them looking raw and angry, but the injury itself having vanished entirely. It was a sudden jolt of realization as it fully dawned on the human that he was still among the living.
“But still...” Morrigan continued, having hardly noticed the Warden's surprise to being alive, “I never would have thought you would be able to figure it out, especially when looking at the company you keep. I never could have expected for you to use the ring that I gave you with an Eluvian to find me.” The commander's eyes fell on that very ring, the loop of polished wood still wrapped around his finger. “The only trace of me I left in your world when I left... I don't know why you're here, or what you did to yourself in your attempt to find me, but nothing has changed.”
Though Morrigan continued to talk, the commander was no longer listening to her. Nothing she said afterward even came close to passing through his attention as he stared off in shock at what he saw, his eyes falling upon the third presence that was within the small shack.
A child, a boy looking to be about three years of age, with shaggy, jet-black hair. He sat on the floor, looking as though he had not noticed the commander or Morrigan in the slightest, blissfully unaware of what was going on in his surroundings. Like what most children did, the little boy was playing. In one hand, he had wood carving of a valiant knight, his body donned in armor while a mighty sword was held in his hands. In the other hand, he had a viscous dragon, wings spread out in the middle of take off while its fang-lined maw was opened wide in a sky-shattering roar. The two wood carvings were locked in fierce combat, and though the commander wasn't sure why, it looked as though the dragon was winning.
Stumbling upward, the commander got to his feet, his weakened limbs strained as he moved. Slowly, he approached the child, who looked as though he didn't even see the older man coming. All the Warden could do was gape at him fixedly, a trembling hand reaching out. It was almost too much for the commander, seeing the child, being overwhelmed by an onset of new found sensations of pride, instinct and affection.
Part of the Warden questioned if the boy was even real, almost not believing his own eyes. All he wanted to do was see him, wrap his arms around him comfortingly for just a moment. He was only a few feet away, his arm reaching out to tap his shoulder and gain his attention. Just as he was about to do so, to have all the evidence he needed to know that the boy was real, not just a figment of his own senseless mind, another hand snatched him by the wrist.
Surprised, the commander turned to see Morrigan looking back at him, a defiant glint in her eyes. “He does not know we are here,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I've placed an illusion on this place, he still thinks I am out collecting supplies. He can not see you, just as you can not meet him.”
“What?” the commander said, nearly shouting the question. Just staring at the witch, he could only question how she could dare deny him something that was his very right.
“I know how you have a way with... befriending those around you,” Morrigan murmured, her tone sounding sullen for a brief moment. “Just as I've told you the last time we had this talk, you can not see him. I thought you had understood that.”
The commander looked back to the child, having no idea of what was being discussed just a few feet away from him. “But... I just...” the Warden tried saying, unable to find the words for what was coursing through him at that very moment. What made it hurt all the more was his understanding of it all.
Morrigan herself even looked sad, her hand reaching up to his cheek. “You act as though I am intentionally trying to do you harm,” she said, looking hurt herself. “I've told you all of this before. My plan is set and it can not be ruined by trivial things such as what you might want, or even what I...” The witch paused, her eyes falling down as she took the Warden's hand in hers. “I am sorry, this just can't be.” The apology was genuine, surprising the commander even more. He knew it was rare for the witch to show much emotion, even around him, it helped him to remember what he saw in her.
His hand tightening around hers, the Warden looked around the small shack before his gaze fell onto the woman before him. “Just... please tell me, Morrigan, what's been happening? Where are we?” he asked, wanting answers from her.
Taking the lead, Morrigan pulled the commander closer toward the front door, speaking as they walked slowly. “As I've told you,” she replied, “we had to leave our old world for another. I needed to find a place away from the threats of the world, away from the misguided ideals of man, away from the Fade and its preying demons, away from Flemeth. Though... I will admit I was surprised to realize that our people do not escape the Fade so easily. It follows you, even to other worlds such as this one. Thankfully, with Flemeths' grimoire, I've learned a great deal. Now, the Fade is no longer a problem, I've even retained much of my old power, even if it is stunted.” She took a deep breath, releasing a pleasant sigh, one of absolute freedom. “Not even Flemeth could find us here now, not unless she finds you and that ring. Of course, I know you can handle yourself around her.”
“And this world?” the commander asked, curious as to what Morrigan's own otherworldly travels had brought.
Not answering right away, the witch and Warden exited the shack. The outside was a small piece of flatland nestled on a mountainside. Though a thick mist obscured almost all of the outward scenery, the commander could see he makings of the forest not too far below the side of the mountain, looking like the perfect spot to gather food and other essentials, especially to an expert like Morrigan. It actually felt good to be in the cold night air as well, the commander's nostrils flaring as he took it all in. Despite his condition, he felt blissfully at peace.
“This world is certainly peaceful,” the witch said almost as though she were reading his thoughts.. “Little to no threat ever befalls it, nothing that could ever bring us harm. It's the perfect place to prepare him, away from the evil of our own world. I've seen little of the actual inhabitants. I took a chance with you and the people in our world, I'd much rather not ruin my place here by stirring things up with the local creature's.” She looked him in the eye for a moment. “You'd probably get along with them quite well. They're a bit like you when we first met. Too... friendly, and trusting for that matter. And they seem just as touchy as the people in our world, which seems rather impossible to think of, especially given that they lack the proper parts to... It's just hard to explain.” She shook her head in dismay, making the commander chuckle lightly. Taking notice, she nudged him slightly in frustration but continued to look outward. “But, even though I don't care for such superfluous details, this land is certainly a pleasant sight to see at certain times.”
Raising her arms forward, Morrigan's hands glowed with a dull gray aura. Swinging both limbs outward, the thick mist that surrounded them seemed to twist and move. Much to the commander's surprise, the veil of fog seemed to part like a curtain. It opened and moved, allowing for them to see the expansive land in which the witch now lived.
It was truly a breathtaking sight, the land looking beautiful underneath the starry sky. From their height, they could see for miles, the green fields and forests stretching out seemingly endlessly. And even though the darkness of the night hid it well, the commander could almost make out the faint outlines of structures far below them, what must have been a village of the inhabitants that Morrigan spoke of.
As the Warden's eyes scanned even more of the land, something else caught his eye. Looking out, just across from the other side of the very mountain they were on, he could see another structure. His vision straining to see it clearly, what looked like another village came into view and a sharp gasp erupted from his throat, his eyes falling upon the familiar pristine white walls of a castle built on the edge of a cliff.
Gaping at the sight, stumbling backward from the horror of it, his hand slammed against the side of the shack. The commander would have collapsed had it not been for his hand bracing himself against he simple structure, his eyes unable to be torn away from the royal home.
“No.... no, no, no, no, no!” the Warden shouted, as though saying it would make the sight vanish before his eyes. Morrigan just looked at him in confusion, unaware of what was raging inside of his mind. “This... this can't be... No, it's.... That... that monster is still here... I-I have to warn them... I have to protect her!”
The commander then ran back into the shack, grabbing his sword resting against the wall before bolting outside once again. Without sparing another word, he kept charging forward as fast as his aching legs would allow, his gaze locked onto Canterlot castle. There wasn't even a single moment where he looked back, nothing else on his mind but making it to the castle, silently praying that he wasn't too late.