They walked through a long hallway, elegantly carved with white stone and lined with different statues of the same woman—presumably Andraste Herself. At the end of the hall they came to an enormous room, the ceiling so high it vanished into darkness, and the Veil was so thin it made the Fade press down upon them. Strange, transparent figures lined the hall, four on either side, all standing perfectly still.
“...what do we do now...?” Alistair wondered.
Kitranna frowned. She walked up to the image of one woman, a human in a long dress.
“Echoes from a shadow realm, whispers of things yet to come,” the woman said, her eyes unfocused but her voice clear. “Thought's strange sister dwells at night, is swept away by burning light. Of what do I speak?”
Kitranna had the oddest sense of deja vu and answered with confidence. “Dreams.”
“A dream came upon me as my daughter slept beneath my heart. It told me of her life, her betrayal and death. I am sorrow and regret. I am a mother weeping bitter tears for a daughter she could not save.”
“Wait--” Kitranna started, but the spirit spoke again.
“Do not regret,” she said. “Do not stay your hand against the storm.” then she burst into a shower of light, and disappeared.
“Are they all riddles?” Alistair wondered, staring at the other spirits. “What happens if we get the wrong answer?”
“We'll probably die,” Kitranna said.
“Oh, did you really need to say that?”
Leliana was looking at the place where the spirit had been. “Was that Andraste's mother?” she wondered. “Was that really her, or...just a spirit, who took her face?”
“A spirit who took her face,” Morrigan said.
“That is the most likely answer,” Fiona said.
Leliana looked troubled.
“Come on,” Kitranna said. “Let's see if we can get the next one.”
The next spirit was that of an elvhen man, armed, dressed in rogue's armor. He was bald and had a long, crooked nose.
“I'd neither a guest, nor a trespasser be, in this place I belong, that belongs also to me.” he said. his voice was soft and slow. “Of what do I speak?”
Kitranna and her companions glanced at each other as Kitranna thought.
“Home,” said Fiona after a minute. “You speak of a home.”
The man closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “It was my dream for the People to have a home of their own, where we would have no masters but ourselves,” he said. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and thus we followed Andraste against the Imperium.” he looked down. “But she was betrayed, and so were we.”
His eyes met Kitranna's. “Something comes, kinswoman,” he told her, his voice harsh now, and faster. “Be vigilant. Something is coming.”
“What--”
He looked away, and his shape was illuminated with white light, and his figure burst into a thousand tiny stars, like the human woman.
“Alright, this is getting weird,” Kitranna said.
“What possible purpose could these spirits have for giving us these arcane warnings?” Morrigan wanted to know.
“I could not be sure, but I believe the Fade is affected by the Blights, as the physical world is,” Fiona said. “The connection is not well studied, but I do recall reading histories and texts that speak of many more demon attacks occurring during Blights.”
“But this isn't a demon attack,” Kitranna said. “It's—I don't know what it is.”
“If anything could affect the Fade, it would be an Archdemon,” Morrigan said.
They went on to the next spirit, a human man with a long white beard. He too was dressed in armor, but heavier than the elf's had been.
“A poison of the soul, passion's cruel counterpart,” the man said, his voice creaking with age. “From love she grows, till love lies slain. Of what do I speak?”
It was Leliana who spoke this time. “Jealousy,” she said.
“Yes,” the spirit said. “Jealousy drove me to betrayal. I was the greatest general of the Almarri, but beside Her, I was nothing. Hundreds fell before Her on bended knee. They loved Her, as did the Maker. I loved Her too, but what man can compare with a god?”
He let out a long breath. “Be wary,” he said. “We were never the first ones to this land.”
He vanished in a bright white light.
“Are these spirits completely incapable of giving a straight answer?” Morrigan demanded.
“It would appear so,” Zevran said. “Although I would think that anyone who spoke in riddles was averse to straight answers.”
The next spirit was a man in old-fashioned Tevinter mage robes. “She wields the broken sword,” he said, his voice clearer than the old man. “Then separates true kings from tyrants. Of what do I speak?”
“Mercy,” Alistair said. “You're talking about mercy.”
“Yes,” the man said. “I could not bear the sight of Andraste's suffering, and thus mercy made me end Her life. I am the penitent sinner, who shows compassion as he hopes it will be shown to him.” he looked up, towards the ceiling. “You can only hope the storm will be merciful, when it comes.”
“Why?” Kitranna demanded, but the spirit burst into sparks. Kitranna growled in frustration. She threw up her hands. “Storms, wolves, old things--” she cursed. “This is ridiculous.”
“We're halfway done, come on,” Alistair said, pointing at the other side of the room. Indeed, there were four more spirits still left.
“What these spirits say...it is not how I remember the Chant being,” Leliana said, rubbing her arms. “Not exactly.”
“How d'you mean?” Alistair asked, while Morrigan rolled her eyes.
“I remember no elves from the Chant,” Leliana said. “I—I know many things were changed, but...”
“You have been reading the modern Chant,” Fiona said, her lips pursed. “Surely you know of Shartan?”
“Yes, but--”
“Yes, but they changed him to a human after the Exalted March on the Dales,” Fiona sighed and shook her head.
Leliana sighed as well. “I had read that,” she admitted. “But I was not sure. I do not know all of the Chant's history.”
“I have more access than most,” Fiona said. “The Canticle of Shartan is one widely ignored by the Chantry.”
“The Orlesians removed it to justify their attack on the Dales, I believe,” Morrigan said, and everyone glanced at her. “What?” she put her hands on her hips.
“Since when do you know anything about the Chant?” Alistair asked.
“Flemeth could hardly avoid it, could she?” Morrigan retorted.
“What else is different?” Fiona asked Leliana.
“Andraste's husband seemed much sadder than I thought he would be,” Leliana said. “I always thought he would be hateful and angry. He was the one who betrayed her, who let her be killed. But he was just...sad.” she cast her eyes down on the ground. “Come, let us move on.”
The next spirit was a human man in an outdated Chantry uniform.
“No man has seen it, but all men know it,” he said. His voice, like that of the man in the Tevinter robes, was strong. “Lighter than air, sharper than any sword. Comes from nothing, but will fell the strongest armies. Of what do I speak?”
“Ah,” Zevran said, raising his head. “Hunger is the answer you are looking for.”
“Yes,” the man said. “Hunger was the weapon used against the wicked men of the Tevinter Imperium. The Maker kindled the sun's fire, scorching the land. Their crops failed, and their armies could not march. Then he opened the heavens and bade the waters flow, and washed away their filth. I saw these things done, and knew the Maker smiled on us.” he closed his eyes. “But now there are other hands at work. Something that moves behind the sun.”
Like the others, he vanished.
The next spirit as also dressed in archaic Chantry garb.
“The bones of the world stretch towards the sky's embrace. Veiled in white, like a bride greeting her groom. Of what do I speak?”
“What you seek to illustrate, via your truly inane couplet, is the mountains,” Morrigan said, her arms folded.
Leliana glared at her, but the spirit took no offense.
“Yes,” he said. “I carried Andraste's ashes out of Tevinter, into the mountains to the south, where she could ever gaze into her Maker's sky. No more fitting a tomb than this could we find.” he looked out, over their heads. “But no tomb lasts forever, and even the mountains are worn down. All things have their turn, and there are things that will come back, even beyond the veil of death.”
“That doesn't sound good,” Alistair said. The spirit met his eyes, then collapsed into brilliant dust.
The next spirit was a woman, in Chasind armor. She had red hair and the strong nose of someone with elvhen blood in their line.
“An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,” she spat, her voice angrier than that of all the others so far. “The debt of blood must be paid in full. Of what do I speak?”
“Vengeance,” Kitranna sighed. “I'm going to lose my mind if I hear any more of this,” she muttered to herself.
“Yes,” the spirit said, ignoring her second comment. “My husband, Hessarian, would have chosen a quick death for Andraste. I made him swear that she would die publicly with her war-leaders, that all would know the Imperium's strength. I am justice. I am vengeance. Blood can only be repaid in blood.” she tilted her head up. "Remember that, when the time comes.”
She vanished into light, and Leliana let out a breath.
“Hessarian's wife!” she exclaimed. “I knew nothing at all about her—the Chant speaks mostly of Hessarian...”
“I've never heard of her either,” Alistair said. “You'd think they'd've mentioned her before.” he looked at the space where the spirit had stood.
“There are a great many things simply lost to time,” Fiona said. “Even if not directly changed—perhaps the story of Hessarian overtook the part his wife played.”
“Perhaps,” Leliana said, her expression troubled.
They moved on to the last spirit, a small, dark woman in a tattered dress.
“The smallest lark can carry it, while a strong man might not,” she said. “Of what do I speak?”
“A song!” Leliana said.
“Yes!” the spirit said. “I was Andraste's dearest friend in childhood, and always we would sing. She celebrated the beauty of life, and all who heard her would be filled with joy. They say the Maker Himself was moved by Andraste's song, and then she sang no more of simple things.” the spirit looked sorrowful, and she reached out to touch Leliana's shoulder. “Listen,” she said, and Leliana stood frozen. “The world sends you a warning, woven into song.”
Then she moved back, and vanished into light, like the rest of them.
“Alright,” Kitranna said, rubbing the back of her head. “What's next?”
The door at the end of the chamber opened, and they moved towards that.
They came to the end of the corridor they walked down, and were faced with a row of spirits, facing each of them, all different people. A shade of Duncan stood in front of Alistair, and an elvhen woman stood opposite Zevran. Flemeth was in front of Morrigan. An unfamiliar human woman was in front of Leliana and a man before Fiona.
And before Kitranna stood Jowan.
“Like the riddle room?” he asked her.
Kitranna put her hands on her hips. “Jowan is just fine in Orzammar,” she scolded the spirit. “Stop that right now.”
The spirit frowned. “That is not--”
Fiona blasted the person opposite her with a spell meant to disperse demons.
“And the negotiations have now completely broken down,” Kitranna said, fingering her weapon.
“No, that actually made sense,” Jowan said. “We probably shouldn't have tried that.” None of the other spirits were dispersed, but the man who had stood in front of Fiona was gone now.
Kitranna suddenly realized that she couldn't hear what the others were saying, although both Leliana and Zevran were engaging with their spirits. Zevran looked upset, and Leliana had a blade out.
“'We?'” she asked. “Who's we?” She glanced to her other side—Alistair's eyes were red, but Morrigan merely rolled her eyes and cast an irritated look over to Kitranna.
“Can't tell all our secrets, can I?” he said with a smile. The more she looked at him, the less the spirit resembled Jowan, his face going blurry at the edges.
“Why not?”
“Because you need to keep going.” he stood aside, and sound returned to the group (Kitranna caught the end of some Orlesian cursing from Fiona, but she quickly stopped). The other spirits vanished.
“That was ridiculous and sentimental,” Morrigan sniffed.
“I did not appreciate that,” Leliana muttered.
Fiona was breathing hard through her nose. “I would not call it sentimental,” she hissed, her accent thicker than normal.
“Let's move on,” Kitranna said.
The next room was...unexpected.
They entered it an Kitranna immediately found herself faced with herself, wielding a blade like her own, that crackled with lightning.
Kitranna barely brought her blade up in time. Her shade slammed her blade down on Kitranna's. The shade grinned, teeth flashing in the dim light of the Temple.
“You've gone all wrong,” she hissed.
Kitranna pushed the shade back, flung a spell at it. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Alistair locked in a similar battle with his own doppelganger, and saw a flash of magic. Kitranna's double dodged the spell and came after her again.
“You know they're right,” she whispered, her voice echoing in Kitranna's ears. “You know you won't win.” she pushed forward and Kitranna was locked body-to-body with her. “How could you? Witch. Mage. Knife-eared demon.”
Kitranna breathed out hard through her nose and gritted her teeth.
“You don't deserve this,” the doppelganger whispered in Kitranna's ear. “You don't deserve to be here. Failure. You know the Maker turns his back on things like you.”
Kitranna snarled wordlessly and shoved the double away, then froze her with an ice spell. Well—almost froze her. She broke free, but someone slammed into her—either Zevran or Zevran's shade, Kitranna couldn't tell which, so she was forced to hold off on attacking until the two disentangled themselves.
Kitranna's double sent a spell hurtling at Kitranna, which she deflected, but then the shade was slamming her sword down again.
“Real cute,” Kitranna snarled, calling on her Arcane Warrior strength. “I like this new turn.”
“You think you're as good as the ancient warriors?” the shade smirked. “You think you deserve that strength?”
Kitranna's heart pounded in her chest, and she landed a blow on the double, cutting open her arm.
The double ignored the injury. “They'll take you back to the Circle,” her eyes were wide, manic. “If you don't die against the Darkspawn—which you probably will—they'll drag you back, lock you up again--”
“They wouldn't dare,” Kitranna snarled, and aimed to strike the double—but the double had vanished.
Everyone stopped. All the doubles had suddenly disappeared.
“Did they...get what they wanted?” Alistair said.
“I certainly hope they did,” Zevran said.
“That was a fair sight more inventive than the previous trials,” Morrigan said.
“Am I really so cruel?” Leliana asked, glancing down at her crossbow.
“Does it matter?” Kitranna asked with a shrug.
“Of course it does!” Leliana said. “Did you not hear what she said?”
“I was a little busy trying not to die.”
They headed out of the chamber, onto the next one.
“Well, cruel or not, I was magnificent,” Zevran said, tossing his hair. “It was a shame we had to fight.”
“I heard you swear at yours,” Alistair said. “He can't have been that great.”
“Your ears mislead you, my friend.”
“Fine, whatever,” Alistair raised his hands.
The next room they came to had an enormous pit in it. At the bottom of the pit they could see the gleam of water.
This room was unique—it had no spirits, only a puzzle that had to be solved. A bridge needed to be formed over a chasm. It did not take them long before they passed this room as well, however.
Finally, they came to the last chamber.
It was enormous, larger than any of the rooms that had come before it, and was lit with brilliant light. The reason it was so bright was the massive wall of fire preventing them from going forward.
“Oh, wonderful,” Kitranna said, rubbing her face. She looked over the fire, and could make out a large statue of Andraste and a gleaming golden artifact at her feet.
On their side of the fire, there was a carved altar made out of white stone. It was dusty and worn, but there was a clear inscription on its base. Kitranna leaned down to inspect it, and the others looked over the altar as well.
“'Cast off your trappings of worldly life and clothe yourself in the goodness of spirits,'” Fiona read aloud. “'King and slave, lord and beggar, be made anew in the Maker's sight.'” she frowned and tilted her head up. “I can feel magic.”
“As can I,” Morrigan said. “This is certainly more work of spirits.”
“Do you think it means 'cast off your trappings' literally, or is it a metaphor?” Zevran mused. He glanced at the fire. “That is a very vital distinction here.”
“This is the last trial, I know it,” Leliana said, casting her gaze up, towards the statue.
“Wonderful,” Kitranna said. “So, what do we do in order to not be burned alive? Magical fire packs a nastier punch than the normal kind, as I'm sure you know.”
“I am aware,” Leliana said. She hummed to herself, then looked at the inscription on the altar again. “I suppose, to be reborn, you must remove all worldly things and pass though the fire,” she said.
“Just my idea of a good time,” Zevran muttered.
“So do you think it allows for multiple people, or just one?” Kitranna asked, looking the altar over again. There was no other inscriptions.
“Well, we all got here, so I guess all of us could pass through,” Alistair said with a grimace. “But if we need to do what I think we do...”
“Go naked through a wall of magical fire?”
“Yeah, that. Then I really don't want to.”
“Neither do I,” Fiona muttered.
“We have come all this way!” Leliana said. “We cannot stop now!”
“Who said we had to stop?” Kitranna said. “I'm sure one person could do it and we could all turn our backs or something if it's that big an issue.”
“I will do it,” Leliana said immediately. “I will go through the fire.”
“What a marvelous decision,” Morrigan said, rolling her eyes. “Are we quite sure that this is not another riddle, or puzzle? 'Twould be exceedingly foolish to remove one's armor and attempt to walk through fire.”
“Do you see any more riddles here?” Kitranna asked.
Morrigan looked at the altar. She pursed her lips and cast a quick revalatory spell on it, the kind used for unearthing ancient carvings. Nothing.
“If it is a riddle, it is one I cannot decipher,” she said.
“There is no riddle,” Leliana insisted. “This is a test of faith, not of the mind. I will do it.”
Kitranna chewed her lip. “Fiona, you have some healing spells, right?”
“I do.”
“Good. Have that on standby.”
“I shall.”
“Alright, you go ahead, Leliana. Have fun.”
Leliana removed her armor and clothing. Alistair turned bright red and looked away. Leliana steeled herself, and held out a hand to the fire.
“It—it does not burn me,” she told them.
“Great,” Kitranna said. “I'm very happy for you.”
Leliana moved through the fire unscathed.
“If you wish, you may follow!” she called.
“We're fine right here,” Kitranna called back.
Leliana was about to say something else, when the misty image of the Temple guardian appeared before her. Suddenly her ears were filled with a roaring sound, as if she were underwater, and she could hear nothing but the guardian's voice.
“You have been through the trials of the Gauntlet,” he said. “You have walked the path of Andraste, and, like Her, you have been cleansed. You have proven yourself worthy, pilgrim.”
“What of my friends?” Leliana asked, glancing over the guardian's shoulder to where Kitranna and the others stood, on the other side of the fire.
The guardian looked over his shoulder. “They have not passed the last test,” he said. “Only you may approach the Urn.”
“But they have come so far...” Leliana looked over at Kitranna.
“If they truly wish to see the Urn, they may,” the guardian assured her. “After all, you have arrived here. They may as well.”
Leliana nodded, and the roaring in her ears disappeared. She looked over to Kitranna and the others. “You can come over, if you want,” she said.
“Do we get our armor back afterwards?” Kitranna asked. “Because yours is still over here.” she shook her head. “Look, it's not that important—just go and get the ashes and we can get out of here.”
“But--”
“Does anyone else really feel like ditching their armor and going over to look at that Urn?” Kitranna asked the group at large.
Morrigan snorted. Zevran gave a noncommittal shrug, as did Fiona.
“Alistair?” Kitranna said.
Alistair rubbed the back of his head. “I don't know...”
“Do it if you want. We won't look. We'll just sit over here.”
In the end, Alistair decided to join Leliana on the other side, everyone politely averting their eyes. Morrigan and Kitranna didn't care enough to go, nor did Zevran or Fiona, so they stayed on the other side.
“I'm so sick of this place,” Kitranna muttered to Morrigan, who hummed in agreement.
Leliana and Alistair retrieved a pinch of the Ashes, and there was a door on that side of the temple so they didn't have to go back through the Gauntlet to leave.
“Amazing,” Kitranna said, weighing the pouch of Ashes in her hand. “Now we can go give these to Arl Eamon. If he's not dead already.”
“I am sure he is not,” Morrigan assured her. “If nothing else, your Jowan was a very poor assassin.”
“That is what happens when you do not hire a professional,” Zevran said.
“Yeah,” Kitranna agreed with a sigh. “I don't think that's exactly a bad thing though, right?”
“Well, it is for an aspiring assassin.”
They went back down the mountain (skirting the dragon), and back to the Chantry in Haven, to reunite with the rest of their group. There were some remaining villagers who had attacked the Chantry, but Oghren and Shale were enough to hold them off. The entire village had a very tense, unpleasant air about it, and Kitranna wished to leave as soon as was reasonably possible.
Wynne had healed Genitivi's wounds, even the frostbitten foot, and he was much better than the last time they had seen him.
Leliana showed them the pouch of Ashes, and Oghren and Shale had not been very impressed, but Wynne and Genitivi were.
“You really found it?” Genitivi breathed.
“We really found it,” Kitranna said.
“My word...” Wynne said, reaching out to almost touch the pouch but pulling back at the last minute. “I can feel the magic in this.”
“Yeah, we felt the magic in that whole damn Temple,” Kitranna said. “Now come on, we need to get out of here.”
“I will stay,” Genitivi said. “This Temple is a truly amazing relic—it must be studied, surely.”
Everyone stared at him. “You...can't stay here,” Kitranna said.
“You are aware there are angry cultists right outside, yes?” Zevran said.
“How would you care for yourself?” Fiona asked. “There is nothing to eat in that Temple. No traders come this way.”
“Well, apart from dead dragons, you could eat those,” Alistair mentioned. “Oh, and there's a high dragon, also! We think that's what the cultists were worshiping.”
“You would certainly die,” Wynne determined. “Perhaps when the Blight is dealt with, the Chantry can spare soldiers or Templars to come here and make this place safe, but until then, we all need to leave.”
“You cannot possibly let those cultists have free reign of the Temple any longer!” Genitivi protested. “They will never allow anyone near it again!”
Kitranna rubbed he forehead. “Look, I think we have bigger issues than preservation of a historical relic,” she said. “And I mean—I guess I can't stop you from staying here, I'm just saying I don't like the death of an old man on my conscience.”
Genitivi looked affronted.
“You absolutely will die if you stay here without us,” Kitranna said. “There's a high dragon on top of that mountain.”
Eventually they compromised. Morrigan, Fiona and Kitranna cast several spells on the path up to the ruins, hopefully preventing the lingering villagers from going up there and doing something to the Temple. They would all return to Redcliffe, and if Bann Teagan or Eamon could spare some soldiers, those soldiers could return to Haven with Genitivi and they could better secure the Temple.
With that done, they left the town. None of the remaining villagers bothered them, apparently having been dissuaded by the sight of so many armed and magical individuals.