Into the Stars

Chapter Fifteen

A tower of hanoi is a (technically mathamatical) puzzle with three rods and a number of differently sized disks. all of the disks start on either the farthest left/right rod, stacked in ascending size and you have to get them all to the opposite side but a larger disk can't be stacked on top of a smaller disk. it gets harder the more disks that are there

Ir abelas, vhenan - I'm sorry, my heart/home
tel'abelas - I'm not sorry
Fen'Harel ma halam - dread wolf end/take you
fen'harel ma ghilana - dread wolf guide you

Renn and Valta talk casually as we search the passageways for gears. Many, in various shares, sizes, color, and oddly enough, temperature. I don't like this. Gears should not be warm for no reason.

Valta is very interested in the gears, but we won't have any extra left for her to study. And she won't be coming back. It doesn't matter. Does anything matter?

Don't be ridiculous.

Of course it does.

"Inquisitors, you kill darkspawn like you've been doing it your whole life." Renn says, as Decius and I try to figure out the Tower of Hanoi puzzle.

"Yes, well, we are very efficient."

"You are very famous. Even down here. Is it true you killed a dragon?"

"We have. It's quite the experience. They are true masters of their element. I wish they could speak." A lock clicks and stone grates against stone as the last ring is placed.

"We killed one earlier this week, in fact. It had the soul of an Avvar god inside it. A giant frost dragon. Ancient, wise. Hakkon was a bitch, unfortunately."

"I can't even imagine. Tell me about their teeth. What about the colors and patterns on the scales?"

~

Burn the bodies.

They yearn. Ache. Desire for honored rest. Freedom from the mortal realm and its bodily confines.

Do I wish the same?

See them safely to the Beyond, and give them fair judgment.

~

How many lifts are there? This is ridiculous.

Heidrun Thaig. "Did either of you meet the Hero of Ferelden?"

"Kardol did, I never had the pleasure."

"Interesting. Let's hope we have a better time down here then they did. I don't want to see a single brood mother." Everyone agrees.

We make camp soon enough, Decius goes off in search of more gears. And treasure, like a true capitalist.

Valta is looking around the camp curiously. "It's ancient. Maybe a thousand years old."

"Wow. Does it say why it was built?"

"The Thaig is on top is a lyrium mine. The memories say it was destroyed by an unexplained disaster. There's likely more lifts to reach the lower levels."

"Lovely. Further underground." It's just a dark abyss.

"I found a book with the emissary we fought. The pages are mostly ruined, but this line here? 'I awoke to the singing stone. Our kingdom trembled at the Titan's hymn.' "

"I don't really want to get close enough to hear the lyrium sing. Anything else?"

She flips through some pages. Some pieces fall to the floor. "The royal seal of Orseck Garal."

Renn's interest is piqued. "King Orseck Garal? The Paragon? Maybe you are on to something, Valta."

"I should have known you would take a dead man's word over mine. Ever the traditionalist." She has a smile on her face.

"Hey, challenging traditionalist values lost you a cushy job."

I clear my throat, "interesting, but not really any of my business. I know Orzammar is set in their ways, that's all I need to know." The shaperate is corrupt . "I'm here to stop earthquakes." Everyone is corrupt. Am I corrupt? Probably. I am driven by personal goals. Hmm. I don't know how I feel about that one.

I turn back towards the abyss as Renn makes his apologies.

~

Decius hums as we reach the bottom at the lift. "My kind of darkness."

"Really?" I would look at him, if I could see anything. "I can barely see. It's even staler down here. Past the Deep Roads." Decius and I stop moving as blue glowing eyes peer at us. He tilts his head and his eyes dimly glow as well. Red, brown? Clay colored, I decide.

They all disappear.

"Keep aware, Renn. I think I upset them. No dying." Decius's warning reminds me that, yes, Renn usually dies here.

I open myself to the mental presences around us, keeping note of how close they are.

I turn sharply to look at the Sha'Brytol about to stab Renn. It freezes under my gaze, surprised. "Get behind some stalagmites." It dances away and they fire at us.

~

"Thanks for the save, Inquisitor. How'd you know that thing was there?"

"As I told Valta, you don't want to know. They're dwarves. Lyrium based armor, bonded to their skin. Not exactly a common practice today. I only know of one individual with lyrium tattoos and I imagine it's rather painful for them. These also aren't exactly tattoos. How... peculiar"

With the party secure and likely more than a little bewildered, we continue down into the depths of the titan.

~

There's a wall of writing. Dwarven. Ancient.

Revered defenders protecting the titans from 'impure' beings. Appropriate, considering they were mined at one point. Are still being mined, technically. The wall is recounting the duties of these dwarves. How they keep vigil over the being they've devoted themselves to. They cut out their tongues. Entomb themselves in stone and blood. And watch. Such devotion. Too much devotion, keep your sense of self as you live for something else. It makes no sense to throw it all away in service of others. Perhaps, I should listen to my own thoughts. The Inquisition does not deserve the entirety of my self. I probably wouldn't be here, if I thought I could safe Thedas alone.

Renn looks skeptical as Valta reads, but doesn't question her. Perhaps seeing these strange sights, down dwelling in the depths, is curbing some of his doubts. Just enough not to say anything. But not enough to fully believe.

~

Another section at writing, revering titans. They were the first beings. Creating the earth underneath. Living in it. Breathing it. Seeping their blood throughout, so all may live.

Valta does not grasp the entire message. It doesn't matter. She will eventually. She and the lieutenant argue about the implications as I gaze at the writing.

I miss Solas . He'll be upset we came alone. Who was supposed to come? We're not in any danger. Ir abelas, vhenan.

Tel'abelas.

What was that song?

You were the oldest curse: Fen'Harel ma halam. And an empty blessing: Fen'Harel ma ghilana.

"Hm?" There's a hand on my shoulder.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes." I doubt I look ready.

~

The lyrium is beautiful. I can't imagine why anyone would want to drink it, however. Glowing, humming, life. Blood. Magical, but still blood.

Where's the nug king? He needs the cheese. Eerie song meets my silent question.

Only those who believe may cross.

I will not fall. I step over the edge.