Free the Earth and Sky

That first day was hell. It had been a long time since Shepard had ridden a horse, and while she still remembered how, her leg and thigh muscles had definitely forgotten. They had only stopped for brief breaks to rest the horses and to take care of personal business, and by the time Cadash called a stop for the night, Shepard was in agony.

She gratefully climbed out of her saddle, and then just stood there, trying to coax her legs into working properly. She was not about to hobble around camp like an old woman. Finally, her legs decided to cooperate and she unloaded her gear from Jacek's saddlebags and dumped them in a pile alongside everyone else's.

She helped with the camp setup where and how she could, but her efforts were more hindrance than help to the experienced quartet of traveling companions. To be useful, Shepard assisted Blackwall with the mounts while Cadash disappeared into the surrounding woods with a short bow in her hand. Cole and Solas seemed to be focused on getting the tents up and starting a small cook fire.

She was in the middle of checking the hoofs of Solas' mount when Blackwall casually handed her a small stone jar. "I find that this is good for sore muscles after a long ride." He gave her a quick smile, "For both man and beast." Shepard took the small jar, trying to hide just how relieved she was, and thanked the warden before she turned back to her own task. Always care for your mount first. Her grandfather's words rang in her ears as she worked. Even if you're dead on your feet, you take care of your horse before anything else. Else you won't have a horse for long. Tending the ranch horses alongside her grandfather had been one of her favorite chores as a child. As they'd worked, he'd told stories of his own childhood, making the time fly. Shepard's eyes misted over for a moment before she banished thoughts of family to the back of her mind.

Cadash returned just before dusk with a small animal which she called a nug that she'd field dressed. It was furless, but with suede-like hide, and looked like a weird mix of mole, rabbit, and pig. It also had human like hands, which disturbed Shepard more than she was willing to admit to, even to herself. Solas took over butchering the carcass, and soon the smell of roasting meat chased away her misgivings. Hunger almost always won over nerves with her. Looking around the camp, she saw that all the others were occupied with other tasks, so she offered to watch the meal.

Solas thanked her, handing over control of the makeshift spit and headed off to a nearby stream to wash. Before she could do more than touch the spit, Cole appeared for in front of her and said in a very firm tone "No. I will."

"I am perfectly capable of keeping the meat from burning Cole." The others turned from their own camp chores, watching with a great deal of amusement as she tried to reason with the boy.

"No." He shook his head. "You're not allowed to cook anymore. Mess Sergeant Gardner and James and Garrus and Ashley and Tali and Liara and Kasumi and Joker and EDI all said so."

"Wait," Shepard narrowed her eyes. "Why would Garrus and Tali say that? They can't even eat what I cook." The traitors.

"You broke the kitchen. EDI told Tali and Garrus. And EDI told Garrus to keep you away from the mess hall." He gave her one of his sweet, almost hesitant smiles. "She doesn't want you to burn down the ship."

"I did not break the kitchen!" Shepard fumed. Okay so maybe she wasn't the best cook in the galaxy, and she may have burned water before . . . and there was that time she'd set off the fire suppression system . . . but that was no reason for her whole crew (including her ship!) to ban her from cooking! She glared at Cole. “I can watch the meat Cole. And technically it's a cook fire, not a kitchen. Therefore EDI has no say in the matter.”

Cole thought this over for a few moments before he solemnly shook his head again, that floppy hat of his emphasizing the movement. Then the young man grinned at her, delight and mischief sparkling in those sky blue eyes of his. "It will be alright. Solas can teach you not to burn water."

At those words the rest of the group lost it. Cadash and Blackwall all but collapsed with laughter, while Solas at least showed some restraint. He turned away to hide his chuckles.

It was after everyone had eaten and they were sitting around the fire that Shepard brought up one of the many questions that had been plaguing her for the past few weeks. It was one of the many, but it was also the most urgent to her thinking.

“Inquisitor, I asked this of Dorian when I first woke up after the attack on Haven and he couldn't answer so I'll ask it of you: How the hell did I get here, and how the hell did I survive?”

Cadash turned to her, the light from the fire playing across her face and highlighting the blue tattoos that adorned it. No, Shepard mused, not Jack. Garrus. Her facial tattoos remind me of Garrus' clan markings. Resolutely she pushed thoughts of Garrus out of her mind. That way lay madness.

The other woman cocked her head, considering what she should say. “It was in the middle of the night when you appeared." She said at last. “I was unable to sleep, and was up studying the Breach and thinking. Trying to make sense of what had happened at Therinfal Redoubt. Cole had been keeping me company.” She paused, clearly thinking over the events of that night. “I had just been about to turn in when Cole suddenly started to talk about being sorry and that something was changing. That was when the Breach turned blood red and Cole vanished on me.” She shot a slightly annoyed look at the boy.

Cole just ducked his head, his hat providing cover. “I had to reach Shepard.” He mumbled. “She was hurting.”

Cadash just sighed and turned back to Shepard. “Not knowing what else to do, I gathered some people, Solas included, and was about to set off for the Temple of Sacred Ashes when the Breach went back to its normal green color.”

“Hold on.” Shepard held up one hand. “What the hell is this Breach you keep talking about? I know I've heard other speak of it, but no one can explain exactly what it is to my satisfaction.”

The Inquisitor gestured up towards the night sky. The two moons were riding low in the sky; countless stars glimmered and gleamed in their unfamiliar patterns. "There. You can still see the scar from where the Breach used to be." Shepard looked to where she was pointing. Just below a particular bright cluster of stars was a mass of . . . something. She'd taken it to be a distant galaxy or an unusual nebula formation, and had paid it no particular mind during her nightly star watching.

"What the hell happened to cause that?" she demanded.

“There is a barrier between this reality and the reality of dreams and spirits. In some places that barrier is weak and in others strong, and tears can occur if that fabric is stressed by either magic, strong and prolonged emotions, or many violent and sudden deaths.” Solas spoke up; his voice taking on a lecturing quality that reminded her of Mordin at his best. “The Breach was a sudden and violent tear in that barrier between the Fade and our own reality. I am not sure exactly who or what caused this fissure, but it was massive release of magic and energy. That is the only explanation I can find to explain such a terrible occurrence. And due to both the size and the suddenness of the tear, many spirits were torn from their own reality and forced through to this one.”

Solas stopped his lecture, studied her for a moment, then “You have no knowledge of what I speak of, do you?” he asked gently.

“I think I get the general idea. So what you're sayings is that someone or something released the energy equivalent of a star going supernova, creating a black hole that linked these two realities. This in turn caused the Fade, which according to you is this other reality, to experience explosive decompression." Shepard scrubbed at her face. "I'm not sure how that is even possible. I wish Mordin or Liara, or hell even Legion was here. They could probably understand it a hell of a lot more than I can." Shit. If these people could somehow create a black hole on demand . . . the thought made her ill.

Solas hummed thoughtfully. "Your words are unknown to me, but I believe that you have the general idea. We will have to discuss the matter further at a later date."

She nodded her head in agreement, mostly just to stop another lecture, then looked over at Cadash and asked her to continue her story.

“There's not much else to tell. When we arrived up at the summit, we found you buried under a massive pile of steel and stone. The stone I know had come from the remains of the temple itself, but I never could figure out where the steel came from.” She waved her hand dismissively before continuing.

“Anyway Cole decided to show back up, and he pointed out where you were pinned under the rubble. We were able to drag you out and Solas and Stiches, that's the Chargers' healer, were able to get you stable enough for transport back down to Haven.”

Once again, Solas took up the tread of the story. “From what I can tell, something caused another massive energy wave, and that, combined with the Veil already weakened by Breach, was what allowed you to travel from wherever you where, through the Fade itself, and out of the Breach.”

He watched her, eyes grave in the firelight. “Tell me Kyleen Shepard, what happened just before you came here?”

The silence that fell over the group was thick with tension. Cadash had heard only the briefest of after action reports about the events that had brought her here and Shepard found she was hesitant to share more. It was if she spoke about what had happened, it would make it real, make this place real, and she wasn't sure if she was ready for that.

She licked lips that had suddenly gone dry, and forced her mouth open, but what came out wasn't about the events aboard the Crucible. “Did you find anyone else in the rubble?” She looked up to meet Cadash's silver-blue eyes, her own green-grey pleading.

The Inquisitor's eyes softened and she shook her head. “No. We had to remove the rubble from the summit before attempting to close the Beach and we found no other bodies. Only broken stone and melted steel.”

She looked away, avoiding Cadash's compassionate gaze. "I had hoped that perhaps Anderson . . .” She fell silent, grief clogging her throat at the thought of Anderson lost aboard the Crucible.

“He was proud of you.” Cole's soft voice broke through the uncomfortable silence. “There at the end of all things. He pushes himself up, looks at her sitting next to him. Feels the blood falling from his side, but that's alright. The task is done. Painful, prideful, peaceful. See the stars shine a breath away. 'You did good, child. You did good. I'm proud of you.' Her voice whispers back through the empty dark. 'Thank you, Sir.'”

Shepard could feel the blood draining from her face. There was no way Cole could have known about that conversation. The last one she'd ever have with her C.O. “Cole? What the hell?”

“He loved you. Jonathan's daughter, but his too. He was so proud of you.” Cole stopped as her distress registered with him. "That made it worse. I will do better next time.” He raised his hand towards Shepard.

“NO!” Cadash and Solas spoke as one. Cole recoiled, lowering his hand. The two looked at each other and Cadash spoke again. “I've told you this before Cole. You cannot go around taking people's memories.” Her voice gentled. “Yes you upset Shepard, but memories make us who we are. They are a part of us for good or ill.”

“But I hurt her.” The strange boy's distress echoed from the rushed words.

“Cole.” The boy turned towards the biotic, shoulders hunched as if to ward off a blow. “It's alright. Yes, remembering Anderson's death hurts. But I wouldn't trade those memories for anything.”

He relaxed, and one blue eye peeked out from underneath his hat. “I'm sorry I made you hurt. I just wanted to help.”

Shepard sighed, looking down to hide the tears that threaten to spill down her face. “I know,” she said, her voice roughened with grief. “I'll take first watch if no one minds.” A watery laugh escaped before she could stop it. “I don't think I'll be able to sleep anytime soon.”

The others voiced their agreement, and vanished into the tents. Cole was the only one who stayed behind, but he said nothing. And that was enough for Shepard, at least for this particular moment in time.

That night set the pattern for the following evenings. Cadash hunted to supplement the trail rations they'd brought with them. Blackwall and Shepard tended to the horses and set up the tents. Solas, after one failed attempt to teach Shepard campfire cooking, took command of the cook-fire. (After which he also forbid her from ever cooking again.) And Cole, well he came and went as he pleased, but would often pass the night with whomever was on watch.

So far it had been one of the more pleasant missions Shepard had been on in a very long time. Even that most fickle part of being planet-side, the weather, was cooperating. It was early spring in this part of the Thedas, and the days were pleasantly warm and the night's cold enough that the group welcomed the fire.

All that changed the further south they went. Those pleasantly warm days disappeared into a steady rain that soaked into every bit of dry clothing they had. The terrain went from rugged foothills into marshy flatlands as they approached the swamp. By the time the Mire proper came into view a little over a week after they’d left Skyhold, Shepard was quite seriously questioning her own sanity in agreeing to come to this god forsaken place.

Of course she'd been questioning her sanity since the moment she'd woken up in that church alive and relatively in one piece. But the fact that she was alive (as far as she could tell) was yet another item on the “What the hell?!” list that she was vehemently not thinking about. Not yet, and certainly not here and now.

Damn, she was cold. Not the cold of deep space that could kill in an instant. No this was a cold that seeped slowly into your blood and bones until you believed that you'd never be warm again. She'd never felt colder, not even on Noveria traipsing through that blizzard from hell. She was also wet to the skin, and by the look of the sky the rain wasn't stopping anytime this century. Why the hell did I agree to come on this mission again?

Cole leaned over and whispered in her ear. “You wanted to see more of the area." Shepard sighed. Cole just didn't seem to understand sarcasm.

They had just reached the edge of the swamp, and a group scouts were waiting patiently in the rain to give Cadash their report. None of them seemed overly bothered by the cold and wet. Well they probably were bothered; they just hid it better.

"Welcome to the Fallow Mire, Inquisitor” the speaker was a short woman, she seemed to be a hair shorter than Cadash, with light brown hair done up in an intricate braid, bright green eyes, and freckles dusted all over her face. She seemed the very young to Shepard, but that had been happening more and more as the war had progressed. “Thank you for coming. Maybe you can solve this mess. Our missing patrols are being held hostage by Avvar. Barbarians from the mountains.”

Keeping part of her attention on conversation between Cadash and her scout, Shepard turned her gaze to the swamp spreading out before her. The group was camped on the edge of the marshland, and she could see wooden walkways extending out into the water. Bits of weathered wooden buildings stuck up out of the mire like old bones, and what looked like bodies floated lazily in the stagnant waterways.

“What are they doing in a bog?” Cadash asked. It was a good question; especially if these people normally stuck to mountainous areas.

“That's the thing. Their leader . . . he wants them to fight you. Because you're the Herald of Andraste.” Who the hell was this Andraste and why was everyone calling Cadash her herald? She'd been assuming it was the local deity at first, but people also spoke of a maker so . . . Shepard really needed to sit down with someone and get an overview of the local situation. The sooner the better. Shaking her head to rid herself of non-mission critical thoughts, she went back to surveying the land.

What she wouldn't give to still have that floating tin can that Cerberus had “given” to her. The Hammerhead's armor had been made of tissue paper and the inertial dampers nonexistent, but at least it would have kept her and Cadash's squad out of both the swamp muck and the weather. And while I'm wishing for the Hammerhead, let's add proper ablative ceramic armor and a decent heavy pistol to the list. I wouldn't even object to a crappy Hahne-Kedar model. Anything would be better than this.

This was the compromise reached between Shepard and Harritt which had taken over an hour to achieve. Neither was truly happy, but at least it hadn't come to blows. Harritt had decided that since Shepard was a "mage", she should wear what the other mages in Cadash's Inner Circle wore. To her horror, this consisted of fancy cloth and leather clothing for both Dorian and someone named Madame Vivienne (whom Shepard had not yet met) and fur and fabric for Solas. This was in no way shape or form acceptable to Shepard. She was not about to wear fabric into battle. Not a chance in hell. She didn't care how expensive or fancy the fabric was, it would never happen.

When Harritt had demanded to know what kind of armor Shepard normally wore, she'd been more than happy to tell him, through trying to explain ablative ceramic armor that had kinetic shielding and an advanced medical interface integrated into it had proven frustrating for them both. In the end they'd compromised. He'd given in on the fancy fabric armor and she'd given up on her dream of a set of N7 armor appearing from an emergency air drop in the center of the courtyard. 

Her armor now consisted of a cuirass made from a light, but surprisingly strong (for the medieval setting) metal called silverite. It covered her torso, ending just past her hips. This protected her vital organs, but also gave her the ability to maneuver easily. Pauldrons and gauntlets made of the same metal protected her shoulders and forearms. She'd grudgingly gotten boots and greaves to complete the medieval version of her armor. It was somewhat heavier than the medium weight armor that she favored and nowhere near as strong, but beggars couldn't be choosers. At least it wasn't made of fabric. 

Shepard had just been about to leave the Undercroft with her new gear in hand when Harritt had asked what type of staff she preferred. She'd just stared at him, nonplussed at the question. What the hell would she need a staff for? After taking in her blank look, the blacksmith had directed her attention to a row of wooden and metal staffs leaning against one wall. “Well,” he'd asked in a gruff voice. “Which one will it be?” It had taken another hour for them to come to an agreement about a weapon for her use.

After another heated discussion with the smith, Shepard had taken a hunting knife along with a boot knife, but had firmly refused the offered staff. Quarter staff had never been one of the skills she'd learned at the Villa. She had her biotics and the knife would suffice for any close quarter combat. But she wasn't about to carry a weapon she didn't know how to use properly. That was just asking for trouble. Knives, well Shepard knew how to use knives. She'd actually learned knife fighting when she was fifteen from another N7 just after her father had been killed. It had never been anything she'd discussed with her mother, but everyone on the ship had turned a blind eye towards the lessons. She'd needed an outlet for her grief and anger, and Sergeant Heisman had been more than happy to teach her.

“Getting to our troops won't be easy. You'll have to fight your way through undead -” that brought her attention back to the conversation going on behind her. She turned her back on the swamp, focusing on Cadash and the scout. The scout had a slight smirk on her face as she finished her question. “Wait . . . you're not squeamish about undead are you?”

Cadash just shrugged. “They're only corpses possessed by spirits.” Again, what the hell? Did they mean husks? Shit if there were husks here, that meant active Collector or Reaper tech nearby. She brought her arm up in automatic reflex to run a scan for any active power sources, and then swore in Krogan. She kept forgetting that her Omni-tool was missing.

The scout gave her superior a strange look, the smirk disappearing from her face. “Right. Nothing to fear.” She was quite for a moment before finishing her briefing. “The Avvar are holed up in a castle on the other side of the Fallow Mire. Maker willing, the Inquisition's people are still alive.”

Cadash nodded a dismissal, turning to join the rest of them waiting a short distance away. She pointed towards a pile of burning bodies. “Look. Signs of a plague.”

“It must have been a terrible illness.” Solas' voice was soft. “No one's come to reclaim the land.”

“No one living at any rate.” Cadash turned away, heading towards the wooden pier leading out into the swamp.

Cole drifted up to stand next to Shepard as she moved to follow the Inquisitor.  “They died faster than the villagers could burn them. Then no one was left to burn.”

“That's true of most plagues. Omega was the same way.”

“But Mordin healed Omega. And you helped. You put the healing in the air. Swirling softly down, spreading, giving back what was stolen by the broken ones.”

She smiled sadly at the boy. “Omega will never be truly healed. But it did get a little healthier after Archangel and Mordin got through with it.” Not that it lasted. Damn Cerberus. And damn Aria for letting Omega get that bad in the first place. “Come on Cole, let's not fall behind.”

“The mud wants my feet to stay." Cole pulled his boots free of the mud and followed the others into the swamp.

Cadash and Blackwall were on point, Solas holding the center while Cole and Shepard played rear guard. Just as Cadash's boots hit the edge of the water a pair of husks emerged from the murky water. Unearthly moans echoed out of their mouths as they shambled towards the group on the shore.

Instinct honed from countless battles over the last few years had Shepard tossing a warp before she had truly registered that what she thought were husks were something else altogether. The concentrated orb of dark energy hit the husk-like creature on the right just as she moved to engage the remaining husk. Before she could form another warp, a pyro blast struck the husk, causing it to burst into flames before falling to lay on the soggy ground.

She turned to see Solas standing in a fighting stance. He had his staff clasped loosely in his right hand, angled so as to deflect an incoming blow, while his left hand was raised palm out. What caused her eyebrow to shoot up was the fact that flames were twining around his hand like a friendly cat.

Well, that was new.

She couldn’t see any sign of an Omni-tool, or any other tech that would be capable of producing a pyro blast. How the hell is he doing that?

“Interesting.” Solas flipped his staff so that it was once more attached to his back. Shepard frowned as the fact that none of them had a magnetic base to hold their weapon to their armor hit her. How the hell was he keeping that staff in place? She had been assuming that he'd been using a leather sling or holder like the rest of the group, but the staff was just hanging there.

“What manner of magic are you using? It seems similar to an arcane bolt, but I felt no mana being extended.”

Shepard scowled at him. “What the hell are you talking about? I'm a biotic. I generate and control dark energy using nodules found all along my spinal column and nerves. There's no 'mana' involved.”

The elf returned her scowl. “All mages use mana.”

“Again, not a mage. I'm an Alliance Marine N7 Biotic Adept. I don't use mana. I don't even know what mana is." She flared her biotics, letting the energies expand around her like a mantle. She was getting damn tired of being called a mage all the time. Local customs be damned.

“Mana is the measurement of a mage's connection to the Fade. It is what allows us to manipulate both the physical and the mental. If you are not a mage, one wonders how you are controlling your power.”

They stared at each other from across the clearing, neither giving an inch. The stalemate was broken what Cadash cleared her throat.

“If you two don't mind, we do have some scouts to retrieve.” She stood at her ease, resting her weight on one hip, arms crossed in front of her while taping the toe of one booted foot. Blackwall stood next to her, amusement lurking in his dark blue eyes and Cole, well Cole just looked confused.

“Ah, apologies Inquisitor. I will not let my curiosity get in the way of our mission again.” Solas moved away from Shepard, walking past the two rogues and the warden to stand at the start of one of the wooden walkways extending out into the swamp.

Shepard watched him go. Something about that encounter had left her on edge. In that instance Solas had reminded her of Admiral Xen confronted with Legion for the first time. It was not a comfortable feeling. She would need to be careful with him. Shoving her unease to the back of her mind, she turned to look at the "husks" that had started the whole mess.

They were lying on the edge of the clearing near where Solas stood waiting. She kept one eye on him as she knelt on the muddy ground to better study the creatures. The one that she had hit with her warp was still mostly intact, while the one that Solas had taken out with his pyro blast was a smoldering heap.

She looked at the first one. It was a human corpse; one that showed signs of extensive decomposition, but also had indications that the bog had partial preserved the body. Apart from the gaping hole in the torso left from her warp, there was no obvious sign of injury to show how he had died. She reached out and gently ran her gauntlet covered hands over the corpse. Finding no indications of the nanites that powered the husks she had been fighting for years, she angled the body to be able to peer into the chest cavity.

Nothing.

"Not a husk." She couldn't hide the relief that filled her voice at that moment. She wasn't sure she was up to facing down another Reaper. Not after that last, soul-shearing fight on Earth and whatever had happened there at the end aboard the Crucible. Not that that would stop her if she had too, but she at least wanted proper armor and weapons first. She hoped that the lack of husks meant that the Reapers were gone for good, but she just couldn't be sure with her memory of what had happened patchy at best.

But if this wasn't a husk, what was it? And how was it up and moving? She sat back on her heels, staring down at the husk-like thing in puzzlement. The others stood around her, watching her in equal puzzlement. They probably think I'm crazy, she thought. And they might not be wrong.

"Shepard?" Cadash lightly touched her shoulder, "What's wrong?"

The biotic stood up, her movements graceful despite the uncertain footing. She looked down at Cadash, relief and puzzlement warring in her eyes. "When the scout said walking corpses, I thought she meant husks. But the only thing here is a dead human body. No sign of Collector or Reaper tech." The relief of that knowledge, of being able to put down the burden of the Reapers, at least for now, made her what to jump for joy. Not that she ever would. That would be highly undignified. "From the rate of decomposition, I'd say he's been dead at least a month, if not longer. So how the hell was this thing up and moving?"

"The Veil is thin here." Solas' voice had that steady cadence that Shepard already knew meant he was about to lecture her, again. "Spirits and demons can easily slip past and occupy the deceased. They are drawn to strong emotions, and dying can be very emotional experience. And so they slip into the body as the original soul departs. But this side of the Veil is very different from the Fade. The emotional residue that is left can drive a spirit to forget its purpose and all that is left is rage and despair. Hence the spirit bound corpse attacked when the water was disturbed."

"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about." These people were really caught up on the whole possession thing. She supposed it was no worse than worrying about indoctrination.

"Truly?" Shepard could almost see the glee filling his eyes as he spoke. "I would be more than happy to explain in further detail. What was it that you did not understand?" If he started to rub his hands together in anticipation, she was dumping his ass into the swamp. "We could start with a basic explanation of spirits. . ."

"Later," Cadash interrupted him before he could continue. "You can lecture Shepard on spirits and the Fade later. After we get out of the swamp." She fixed the apostate with a firm glare.

He sighed in disappointment, but agreed with a nod of his head.

Cadash turned and lead the way back onto the wood walkway. Shepard came forward to join her on point while Blackwall fell back to cover their rear with Cole and Solas centered between the two groups. “Come on, that keep is on the other end of the swamp. And be careful," The Inquisitor nodded towards the corpses, “There must be more further in.”

Shepard barked out a short laugh, the sound harsh “There's always more. Damn husks or corpses you'd call them, come out of the woodwork like roaches.” She looked around at the swamp, her expression bleak. “And then I remember that they used to be alive, with families and hopes and wishes and dreams, and I want to weep for the dead and those that must kill them again and again.”

“Isn't that the truth?” Blackwall agreed his voice gruff. “You have to put that away when you're in the thick of it, but after, after you look around the battlefield at the dead and the dying and you wonder what the point was if the only thing left after the fighting is death.

“You have both seen a great deal of battle.” Solas spoke in a matter of fact tone.

“We all have.” Blackwall turned to eye the mage, black brows scowling under his helm.

The group had paused on a small island where Shepard could see a small house standing forlornly alone, and she hopped the inhabitants had been able to escape both the swamp and the plague that had killed what had once been a thriving village.

“Not all; not like you and Shepard. “ He turned to include both humans as he continued. “You both live and breathe war. You understand it. It is home to you.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Shepard took a step closer to the elf, her expression dark. If Solas kept this up, she was dumping his sanctimonious ass in the swamp. Blackwall would no doubt help her.

Solas' expression changed to one of remorse as he realized that he had just basically called them both warmongers, if not in so many words. “I meant no offense.” He hastened to reassure them. “We have all seen terrible things. We have watched death and destruction render that which we love unrecognizable.” Sadness and grief flickered briefly across his face. “It is calming to see something familiar in others.”

Shepard and Blackwall shared a look and then they both inclined their head at the mage. “Come, let us continue. We won't get the scouts back standing around gossiping like fishwives.” The warden shouldered his shield and moved on down the path towards a large stone monolith in the distant. The rest of the party followed after him with only the occasional comment between themselves.

As they drew close to the stone, Shepard could see a metal basket attached to one side of monolith. It seemed out of place to her, distracting from the grandeur of the stone itself. She approached, placing a hand on the stone. The cold seeped from the stone past her gauntlet and into her skin. There seemed to be a static charge to the rock and as she pulled away, a small charge of static electricity followed her.

"There's something about this stone." She mused as the others spread out around her. Solas walked up and made gesture at the metal basket. Green fire leapt into life, and he gathered some to his hand.

"Indeed. Magic is thick here. We should be wary." He turned, making his way around the monolith, the green fire still cupped in his palm. He raised his hand slightly on the other side, appearing to read some marks inscribed on the stone.

A shriek echoed out through the rain soaked night. It was long and drawn out, and sent a shiver down her spine. It was a sound she had heard before. And it heralded one of the worst horrors the Reapers had yet to produce.

Banshee! And here I am without any heavy weapons. Damn it. Shepard really hated banshees.

Cole looked up as the echoes faded. “It's coming. Clawing, choking, cleaving. It seeks terror to hoard as its own.”

She pulled a barrier around herself and moved to place her back against Blackwall's own.  Why him she wasn't sure, but she had never questioned her instincts in the middle of a fight, and she wasn't about to start now.

The warden stood with his shield out and sword held in a low ready position. The others had all readied themselves in their own fashions. Cole and Cadash had drawn their blades, and had vanished into thin air. Solas stood near Shepard and Blackwall, and had his staff out with flames once more dancing in his hand.

Shepard wasn't too worried about Cole or Cadash. Cole had more than proven capably at stealth strikes at the battle in Haven, and she had no doubt the Inquisitor was just as sneaky as the kid. 

The elf was the unknown. He made a quick gesture, and a blue glow not unlike her biotic barrier sprang to life around the whole group. She would need to watch him carefully, not only to watch his back and but also to better understand just how he was creating those pyro charges and barriers.

Groans filled the air as corpses emerged out of the bog, waving rusted and pitted weapons at the group around the monolith. She tossed a singularity at the largest grouping. Four of the corpses started to float lazily in the air, spinning and contorting the creatures as the dark energy did its best to compresses them down into atoms.  Solas shouted and a fork of lighting came down out of the sky to strike the helpless corpses, sending them smoking to the ground.

Cadash and Cole had each appeared behind one of the corpses and had quickly dispatched their targets before activating their stealth field one again. Blackwall stood firm next to Shepard and Solas. He was an unmovable object, keeping the rare corpse that made it past the others from reaching either the mage or the biotic. The fight was well in hand and Shepard had to wonder just what the fuss was about when the banshee shrieked again.

She scanned the swamp, looking for the tell-tale blue glow and deformed visage of the Reaperized Asari.  And saw nothing. No biotic glow other than her own, no tall spindly figure making its unhurried way towards its victims.

And then a green, spindly creature that looked like a cross between a Banshee and a praying mantis jumped out of the ground.

It shrieked again, and a sickly green light filled the area around the stone. It made a pulling motion and disappeared only to jump out of the ground not two meters from where she stood with Blackwall. The big man was closer and brought his shield up to block a strike from the creature and she spun around to lob a warp into its gapping maw. 

The damn thing just shrugged off the attack like it was an annoying fly. Shrieking constantly now, it flung out its arms and a shockwave hit both her and Blackwall, knocking them to the ground.

Shepard swore. She threw up one hand, hitting it with a shockwave of her own. The biotic energy impacted it hard enough to throw it off balance. Cole appeared along with Cadash and the two rogues both struck, sinking blade and axe deep into its exposed torso.

Then Solas was there, flames extending from staff and hand as he bathed the creature in fire. Shepard vaulted to her feet and tossed three warps into the writhing mass.  The shrieks intensified and then Blackwall pushed himself to his feet and ran his sword through the creatures head.

The shrieks cut off abruptly and the moans from the various corpses ceased as well. And then the damn thing dissolved into mist and ichor, leaving behind only a mass of green goo.

Well shit.