Dragon Age: Inquisition: Behind the Scenes

Of Blights Long Ended

He had hoped to find him in that cave.

It had been a fool's hope, to be sure, but still he was obligated to check. The chance of reuniting with his dear friend, even if it was slim to none, was too important to pass up.

He took a deep breath of the cool air coming from the lake, taking in the atmosphere as the sun continued its tired climb through the sky, each second warming the air enough to change the wind. Soon, it would no longer blow in his direction.

The man did another inspection of his equipment. It was far too battered and mutilated to pass as Grey Warden attire; he had stopped trying two years ago, yet he still clung to it. It reminded him of simpler days, when the enemy was a horde of mindless beasts controlled by a rather large and overly-menacing dragon. Now, according to what he had heard, the very Veil itself had been weakened forever, and the legends of the Tevinter magisters corrupting the Golden City seemed all too real now. He almost preferred when they were merely Chantry tales.

His right hand clutched the staff in its grip a little tighter. Best not to dwell on such things now. He had to keep moving, or her agents would surely find him within minutes. The Grey Warden knew how she worked, knew how to evade her spies. He only needed to keep moving, keep changing. It drained him, but it was necessary. He had made a promise, and he intended to keep it.

The Grey Warden raised his staff skyward, spinning it from the center of balance slowly, but deliberately, gathering energy as the mage's staff spun in a circle. Feeling the energy gathered, he cut the movement of his staff short, sending the energy cascading onto him like a crashing waterfall. He felt himself shrink, his staff magically disappearing. His feet grew longer and longer, his ears quickly following suit. His hands grew into tiny paws, and his armor was replaced with pure white fur. In roughly a second or two, he had turned himself into a regular white rabbit, a common sight in Crestwood. He silently prayed to Andraste he didn't find any hunters on his way out.

He immediately caught the sound. It was faint, almost impossible to hear even for a rabbit, but he heard it nonetheless. Bouncing behind a tree, he tested the air with his pink nose. It was them, all right. Inquisition spies.

It didn't look like they were searching for him. Rather, they seemed far more interested in the cave the Grey Warden had abandoned. Most of them went inside, save for two, both of whom, took position inside some bushes to the side of the cave mouth. By the time they had taken their positions, the white rabbit was long gone.

He wasn't sure how long he had been scurrying away from those Inquisition forces, but he was silently glad they hadn't even considered anyone's presence there. He froze in mid-jump. Of course no one would've been in that cave. Alistair was dead.

What he had heard was uncertain at best, but the chaos at Adamant had claimed the Grey Warden his life. That much he knew for certain, and that much he grieved, but not as much as most would've expected. The two of them had cheated death before; it was only a matter of time before death caught up to them, eager to take its prize eventually. The Grey Warden wasn't so sure he had been the lucky one out of the two of them. That much, he mourned.

He barely sensed it in time. The little rabbit leapt forwards, dodging the thrown knife by inches. The spies had found him after all. They were probably hunting for food for the morning. Pretty sure human wasn't part of the Inquisition's dietary regimen, the Grey Warden fled towards the cliff edge, suckering them into believing him cornered. They seemed to be silently surrounding him, pressing him to the cliff edge, but they were under the false assumption he would avoid falling off. Without so much of a pause, he hopped and hopped his way right off the edge of the cliff.

If only he could've stuck around to see their stupefied expressions. Sadly, he was pressed for time. When he felt he had fallen far out of their field of view, he willed his shape to change again, this time to one of a waterfowl. He flapped his wings with great force, turning his descent into a glide barely over the water edge. As far as the spies were concerned, their game had committed suicide, as a random bird flew out of the surface of the water empty-handed.

Once, he would've been surprised at the lack of the Calling singing in his ears, like it had more than ten years ago. Now, it filled him with a sense of dread. The silence meant the Maker was not finished with him just yet. Something was brewing on the horizon; he could feel it. There would come a day he would need to return to the world he had saved once more, to combat the growing darkness. Perhaps the Champion and the Inquisitor would be kind enough to join him. He was starting to feel just a little lonely lately.

His name was Xairjan Amell, a Grey Warden of Ferelden, though most would know him under another name. He was the Hero of Ferelden, survivor of the Fifth Blight, and he would not rest until he found a cure for the taint that poisoned his veins, so he could finally return to his true love once more. So much he had prayed to Andraste.