Legend (Dragon Age Origins)

Chapter 31: Ghosts

The cavern opened up into a large clearing, nestled beneath the high peaks. Across the expanse, appearing almost untouched by nature, was another ancient structure of stone and mortar. The bridge that crossed the sunken earth had been taken by an old landslide, and the group were careful as they climbed down the jutting edge. Down below, a fine layer of ash covered the dry land. There were scorch marks bitten into the rocks, along with discarded weapons and broken armour.

A shadow passed across the afternoon sun, a familiar screech echoing across the ravine. They pressed themselves against the rocks as the dragon took to the skies overhead, though the majestic creature paid no attention to the mortals below. It landed on the cliffside above the temple, sending down a cascade of rocks and human bones.

As the dragon lowered its head, they resumed their trek across the open space. Dru kicked a broken shield in her path, slivers of bone crunching underfoot. The remains of the cultist, though she was unsure if they belonged to those foolish enough to approach the dragon, or if they had been offered to her as a sacrifice.

The structure was surprisingly well-preserved for its primordial age. It was a stunning piece of architecture, with its emerald caps and stone spires that stretched out toward the sun. The broken archways led into a small dark chamber that reminded Dru of the few Chantries she had been in. Morrigan cast her lighting spell, though there was no need, as the copious candles that lined the walls, aisle and chandeliers lit up as the group stepped inside.

A man in pristine silver armour stood at the end of the room in front of a small wooden door. For a second, Dru thought he was yet another cultist. He appeared like any other man, with his skin marked and tanned from years of bitter life, but beneath his helm, his eyes gleamed a soft luminous white. He had to have been the guardian that Kolgrim spoke of. The man didn't look like anything particularly mystical or immortal, though there was a quiet sense of awe as he appraised those before him. 

"I bid you welcome, Pilgrims." There was a slight echo at the end of his words, reminding Dru of the nightmare spirits she had encountered in the Fade.

"Who are you?" Leliana crept closer, her brows furrowed as she examined him.

"I am the Guardian, the protector of the Urn of Sacred Ashes. I have waited years for this."

"For someone to take the ashes?" Dru asked.

His pearlescent eyes fixed on her intently, as if they were gazing beneath the surface. "No one can take the Ashes, for they belong here and only here. It has been my duty to protect the urn and prepare the way for the faithful to come and revere Andraste. For years counting, I have been here and shall I remain until my task is done and the Imperium has crumbled into the sea."

"You won't have to wait much longer, then," Alistair chimed in. "The Imperium is nowhere near as powerful as it would have been when you were... Alive? Summoned? Maker, does no one else feel at all creeped out by all this?"

"I thought this was an average Tuesday for you, actually," Zevran said.

"Ah, then perhaps this is the beginning of the end," the Guardian mused. "You may have the privilege of honouring Andraste, only if you prove yourself worthy."

"So we have to fight you?" Dru asked. With the five of them, they were probably able to take him.

The Guardian gently shook his head. "It is not my place to decide your worthiness—the Gauntlet does that. If you are found worthy, you may see the Urn and take a small pinch of the Ashes for yourself. The Gauntlet reveals the true pilgrims from the false. You will undergo four tests of faith and we shall see how your soul fares."

"Great, I'm terrible at tests," Alistair whined.

Dru widened her stance. "Alright. Let's go get this over with, then."