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Vir Vhenas

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There are many, humans, elves and dwarves alike, who do not believe the Old Elven Gods interact with the mortal world. The Evanuris as they are otherwise known are unknowns in the current world of Thedas, half forgotten and set aside by many in favour of the Maker. Even if they are forgotten, they themselves do not forget.

Following the horrors of the Fifth Blight and the destruction of the Chantry, leading to Mage-Templar fighting, the Gods became concerned. They noticed a small party, lead by the Champion of Kirkwall, release the Elder One. They watched from their World Beyond as he gained power and watched as his plan began to unfold in The Temple of Sacred Ashes. While their influence and sight were diminished in the face of such powerful Andrastian worship, two of the Evanuris extended their powers forward.

Divine Justinia V died that day, consumed by the magic the Elder One wielded. But when his magic bridged the gape between Thedas and the Fade, he unknowingly gave Andruil and June an opportunity.


The cell was dark, the cobblestone ground slick with the thin coat of slime that came with constant dampness. Ceres tested her bonds, finding the chain unyielding. She bumped the warm hands of her twin brother Castor as she did so, and felt him move in response. He twisted his hands so their fingers could entwine slightly, a comforting gesture in a grim situation.

A woman, clad in a breastplate with a symbol Ceres didn’t recognize carved into the front, strode into the dungeon complex. The two guards on either side of her held lit touches, providing some light. They were all human. One of the guards unlocked the cell door, and all three entered. Ceres faced the front of the cell and Castor the back, but she felt her brother twist to get a better look at the woman.

“What happened?” The woman asked bluntly with an accent Ceres didn’t recognize, her hand clenched white around the pommel of her sheathed sword.

Ceres bit her tongue, deciding how to go about this. She remembered little from what happened, only snippets as she drifted in and out of consciousness. She recalled scenes of chaos; burnt bodies, pillars of smoke, charred stone.

“You,” the woman spoke over Ceres, now directing her voice to Castor, “What happened?”

“I don’t remember,” Castor answered honestly. He never could lie. “I’m sorry. Can you tell us anything? Why are we in here?”

Castor was well-meaning to the core and Ceres sincerely hoped the woman didn’t take his questions the wrong way.

“It’s–” The woman cut herself off, shaking her head. She turned back, looking the way she had come in. “What do you make of them?”

A figure Ceres had not been aware of stepped from the shadow. Her features were obscured by a hood and her walk was more of a prowl. “The boy is honest, I think. I don’t know about the girl. There is a hardness in her eyes.”

Ceres gave her a thin smile.

The hooded figure nodded to Ceres before continuing. “My thinking is that they need to see for themselves. It could encourage their memories.”

The guards removed the chain linking the twins together, but the individual shackles around their wrists remained.

The twins were guided through the dungeon to the ground level of a hall. As they stepped outside, Ceres could focus on nothing but the sky. The glowing, pulsing blue gash in the sky was like nothing else she had ever seen. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Castor shake his head and mumble something beneath his breath.

“Listen,” a voice, soft and husky, whispered in the deepest corners of her mind, “Listen to it, and listen to me.”

At the same time, both Ceres and Castor yelled out in pain. Their hands glowed the same sickly green – Ceres on her left hand and Castor on his right.

Ceres heard whispers as it happened, unintelligible and distant. She tried to listen, as the voice instructed, yet she could make out nothing.

“Do you listen? Trust me.”

The woman in armour cleared her throat. “We kept you two alive because of those marks. What do you know?”

Castor shook his head vehemently. He wouldn’t lie, but he could refuse to answer. Did that mean he heard a voice as well?

“We can close it,” the voice reassured Ceres, filling her with comfort. The presence warmed her chest. “You and I, my brother and yours. We can close it.”

“Will you take us there?” Ceres asked, her voice steady in the face of the pain pulsing through her arm.

“I–” The woman frowned deeply and tilted her head to take in the sight of the twins. “Yes. We hoped that, between the two of you, someone would know how to close that thing.”

Castor nodded, his face gone pale. It made his blue Vallaslin stand out. He had always been paler than his sister, having spent more of his childhood inside. He had a talent for crafting. Ceres, she had a talent for hunting. She had roamed the woods with other clan members, but had always been the most skilled. Her mother used to warn her of her confidence in her talents, advising her to be more like Castor. To provide for the clan yet maintain a sense of humility. Ceres struggled with the advice. She had found her calling; she was a killer.

“I don’t know how,” Ceres straightened her back. “But I believe we can do it.”

Ceres was only half right.

Following the woman, who they discovered was named Cassandra, the twins realized the devastation of what had happened. The temple was gone. Everyone inside, barring the twins, had perished. Parts of the surrounding forest had been either flattened or was now burning, despite the snow on the ground and the cold mountain air. Demons littered the woods, approaching as soon as the trio was seen. Ceres found an axe, Castor twin daggers – the demons stood little chance.

They were strange aberrations, unlike anything Ceres had encountered before. She set their unearthliness aside; she pictured them as wolves or bears instead, coming at her with gnashing teeth rather than ghostly or fiery bodies. While wolves didn’t scare her, the sight of the demons caused a chill to crawl up her spine each time.

As they came closer and closer to the Breach, an uneasiness settled within her. It was different to a simple feeling of disquiet, caused by the unknown. It was beyond that. The quiet voices, the indistinguishable ones, became louder yet no clearer. They spoke no words she recognized in Elvish, and certainly none in the common tongue. She exchanged multiple looks with Castor, and all he did was nod. They understood each other without spoken words. He heard the same. Neither informed Cassandra.

They met up with a dwarf named Varric and an elf, neither Dalish nor a city elf, by the name of Solas. Ceres did not pay much attention. The voices were near deafening. She felt as though she was being pulled toward the Breach, and that leash tightened the longer she stayed lingering in place.

When they reached the Breach, Ceres heard nothing but the insistent chatter of these voices. She looked at Cassandra, saw her mouth move, yet heard nothing. Instead she simply walked toward the Breach. Castor was by her side. Through the demons they walked, striding through without seeing or knowing. They were both fixated on the Breach, the green glow of the tear in their reality. Hand in hand, their two hands glowing and entwined, they reached upward. There, beyond the hulking, immense Pride demon which threatened them, they saw two figures. The two figures looked down upon them, and reached with their own hands to the Breach.

Sealed but not gone, the wound in the sky remained. It was merely tamed for now.

As the world spun, the twins both fell to the ground. Ceres’ eyes became dark, and the singular voice returned. “Thank you. But your work is not done yet.”