She reached into her pack and pulled out the Idol. It wasn't lyrium anymore. It was a silent, silver key.
Cullen finally looked at her. His scar was pale in the green light. "You're thinking about Solas."
Cullen placed a hand on her remaining one. "Then I'll hold the line here."
"Two years," Ellana said now, watching the rift pulse. "Game of the Year, they called it. All that content. All that expanding pain."
"It always is," replied Ellana Lavellan, the Inquisitor. She held the hilt of her spirit-blade loosely. She wasn't looking at the rift. She was looking at the war table map in her mind. The Descent. The Deep Roads. The Qunari. The Game of the Year Edition, Varric had joked once. "All the pain, patched and polished."
And somewhere in the Fade, a bald elf in a wolf's pelt stopped walking. He turned. And he smiled, just a little.
It started simply. A letter from a grieving dwarf in the Fallow Mire led them to a trembling thaig and the Titan's heart. Ellana still heard the song in her dreams—a geological hum that made her bones ache. They lost two good scouts in the earthquakes. But they found the Lyrium Idol's secret. Not power. Sacrifice.
Below, in the courtyard, the Game of the Year Edition played out its quiet epilogues. Dorian was packing for Tevinter, a magical communication crystal hidden in his sock. Iron Bull sharpened his axe, whistling a Qunari war hymn. Cassandra read a smutty romance novel behind a stack of chantry reports. Leliana released a raven with a black ribbon— one of Solas's agents has been found .
Dragon Age Inquisition Game Of The Year Edition... < iPhone Premium >
She reached into her pack and pulled out the Idol. It wasn't lyrium anymore. It was a silent, silver key.
Cullen finally looked at her. His scar was pale in the green light. "You're thinking about Solas."
Cullen placed a hand on her remaining one. "Then I'll hold the line here." Dragon Age Inquisition Game of the Year Edition...
"Two years," Ellana said now, watching the rift pulse. "Game of the Year, they called it. All that content. All that expanding pain."
"It always is," replied Ellana Lavellan, the Inquisitor. She held the hilt of her spirit-blade loosely. She wasn't looking at the rift. She was looking at the war table map in her mind. The Descent. The Deep Roads. The Qunari. The Game of the Year Edition, Varric had joked once. "All the pain, patched and polished." She reached into her pack and pulled out the Idol
And somewhere in the Fade, a bald elf in a wolf's pelt stopped walking. He turned. And he smiled, just a little.
It started simply. A letter from a grieving dwarf in the Fallow Mire led them to a trembling thaig and the Titan's heart. Ellana still heard the song in her dreams—a geological hum that made her bones ache. They lost two good scouts in the earthquakes. But they found the Lyrium Idol's secret. Not power. Sacrifice. Cullen finally looked at her
Below, in the courtyard, the Game of the Year Edition played out its quiet epilogues. Dorian was packing for Tevinter, a magical communication crystal hidden in his sock. Iron Bull sharpened his axe, whistling a Qunari war hymn. Cassandra read a smutty romance novel behind a stack of chantry reports. Leliana released a raven with a black ribbon— one of Solas's agents has been found .