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This article is missing some information.
Missing 10 codex entries (current list covers 47/57 total entries). 3 entries found in game files, unknown if in game or cut content: Codex entry: Felassan's Concerns about the Dagger, Codex entry: Against the So-Called Gods and Codex entry: Aftermath of Disparaging the Gods. Including these page is at 49/57. Help the wiki by adding the missing information. Remove the {{missing info}} tag when it's done.
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Johanna Hezenkoss tarot card. (See new image)
This article lists all codex entries in the Miscellaneous section in Dragon Age: The Veilguard.
Introduction to the Lighthouse
- Main article: Codex entry: Introduction to the Lighthouse
Once, the Lighthouse was a place of learning, with tools to study the secret workings of great magic. When Solas rebelled against those who call themselves our gods, the Lighthouse became his center of operations, with tools to study the best ways to free ourselves from the tyranny of the Evanuris.
You are safe here, both those of flesh and those of Fade. Any who wish to help are welcome. The magic of the Lighthouse will provide for your needs, see to your comfort, and even help you understand different tongues, for those who escaped here from distant parts of the empire. Should you have any other needs, ask for the Slow Arrow, and I will help.
—Felassan
The Dread Wolf's Eluvian
- Main article: Codex entry: The Dread Wolf's Eluvian
Most of us have only traveled through the eluvians at the whims of those who called themselves our gods. We know them as mirrors that always go from one to another, a bonded pair linked no matter the distance.
Solas has outsmarted the so-called gods. If we used normal eluvians, they could track us to our lair. Solas has improved upon June's work by creating a mirror whose singing stone can change its tune to take us to any eluvian and not just its bonded partner. Thus, we can travel wherever this rebellion needs us, with no fear of pursuit.
Travel is as safe as a normal eluvian. If you have questions, ask for the Slow Arrow, and I will guide you.
Freed from the Evanuris
- Main article: Codex entry: Freed from the Evanuris
Today, in coordinated strikes along the eastern coast, agents of Fen'Harel liberated slaves bound to Andruil. The slaves had their life forces cruelly bound to magical wards that were supposedly set to defend Arlathan against enemies from across the sea, but which were in fact being siphoned for Andruil's personal empowerment. These slaves are now free, recovering their strength in safety.
People of Arlathan, the Evanuris would have you believe that such suffering is necessary, that your only worth is in service, and that they must bind you to protect you from outside aggression. They are lying. You are the strength of Arlathan, not them. When you see the truth and are ready, call to Fen'Harel, and he will break your shackles.
About the Freed Slaves
- Main article: Codex entry: About the Freed Slaves
We got word from the warding sites. Many dead, far more than the casualties we inflicted. The story being spread is that we killed everyone. Andruil's servants made examples of a few and claimed the Dread Wolf is trying to weaken Arlathan by attacking servants and destroying the wards. It's hard to tell what people really believe now.
I know you're likely berating yourself reading this. Just remember the faces of the people we saved. We can't control what the Evanuris do.
And yes, we have to keep playing up the Dread Wolf. The people need someone they believe is strong enough to protect them, or they'll never join us. Don't worry. I promise to mock you viciously if you ever start believing those stories yourself.
Charter in Minrathous
- Main article: Codex entry: Charter in Minrathous
A Minrathous paper with one item circled:
Prices for lyrium may soon rise higher than the Archon's Palace after recent negotiations with the Orzammar embassy broke down into fighting. A representative for the dwarves claimed that Tevinter negotiators were Venatori and suggested that their minds had been poisoned by red lyrium. Tevinter officials deny use of red lyrium and insist that it is not used in any official magical business.
A note written in the margins:
Lace,
Francesca and I made things a little hard for the Venatori, with lyrium tougher to come by and the red variant officially banned. I hope you're doing all right with your own lyrium-related issues. Stay safe.
Charter in Marnas Pell
- Main article: Codex entry: Charter in Marnas Pell
A paper from the Tevinter city of Marnas Pell with one item circled:
Scandal struck the household of Magister Pomonius, as eldest son and heir Sorocan has been found dead in what appears to have been a Venatori ritual gone awry. Rumors in the household speak of escaped slaves and stolen artifacts, and some are suggesting that the death was due to Venatori infighting. A visibly angry Magister Pomonius declared his son innocent of any wrongdoing and blamed "elven thieves" for the incident.
A note written in the margins:
Lace,
Vaea and I were in the neighborhood. The artifact is safe. Doesn't seem related to your work. Assume every noble Tevinter family not with Shadow Dragons has Venatori pulling strings.
Charter in Vyrantium
- Main article: Codex entry: Charter in Vyrantium
A paper from the Tevinter city of Vyrantium with one item circled:
Fighting between Tevinter and Antaam forces has calmed down, with Tevinter reclaiming a lost town after the Antaam cannons mysteriously failed. The town is now safe, and former prisoners are being treated for injuries. Sadly, several war-mages were killed retaking the city, reportedly victims of Antaam assassins.
A note written in the margins:
Lace,
Marius, Tess, and I paid a visit. Venatori and Antaam might be serving the same gods, but they're not knowingly working together and are easy enough to turn on one another.
Charter in Solas
- Main article: Codex entry: Charter in Solas
A paper from the Tevinter city of Solas with one item circled:
The Silent Festival will take place this year! After cancellations the last few years from concerns about Antaam pushing east from Perivantium, local organizers have confirmed that Nevarran mages will be coming to help celebrate the lives of those recently lost with visions of the Fade. The festival will include feasting, dancing, and seances. As the Veil is expected to be quite thin from the spiritual energies, minors with magical talent should not be left unattended.
A note written in the margins:
Lace,
We investigated. Thoroughly. It really does appear to be a coincidence that the city shares a name with our mutual acquaintance. Seems like it should have some connection, but no.
Had to be sure, though.
—Charter
Letter to Charter
- Main article: Codex entry: Letter to Charter
Charter:
I'm assuming you got my last message about Varric. We're adjusting with Rook stepping up. We're still searching for answers on the elven gods we released. Solas remains contained, and less of an immediate problem.
How is the situation in the South? Has there been any activity related to the elven gods? What about the Antaam? They seem entrenched in Antiva, though any increase in the number of scouts might signal them getting ready to move. I'm still receiving letters regularly from my ma, so I gather Ferelden is far enough away that trouble hasn't reached it yet. What about Orlais? Or the Free Marches?
Please respond as soon as you can. The usual channels remain open.
—Harding
Taash's New Tablet
- Main article: Codex entry: Taash's New Tablet
I am Taash. I am an adaari—a fire-breathing Qunari.
I am writing this in Trade so people can read it.
Dragon fire made these words show up. Don't trust anything not hidden that way.
Ancient Qunari made adaari using dragon blood. Adaari helped see and fight an ancient enemy.
Ancient Qunari fled to this land from across the sea. They got sick and died.
The enemy will follow across the sea.
Beware the Devouring Storm.
(Neve Gallus figured out how to hide these words behind the fire. I owe her drinks at the Cobbled Swan.)
—Words carved on a stone tablet, visible only by dragon fire
The Randy Dowager Quarterly: Vol. 1
- Main article: Codex entry: The Randy Dowager Quarterly: Vol. 1
A dog-eared and underlined quarterly missive of suspect virtue:
The Randy Dowager battens down with the collected Ties of the Archon, being a yarn of leaders entangled by passions unraveled, and status reversed by court and cord. A tightly woven exploration of empire straining at its borders.
The Randy Dowager: Exhibitions for the noble of thought, but spry of step.
The Lady Herself says: "Well-bound, as was the issue. Four scarves fluttered in shock out of five, if only to reserve one for the wrists."
—RD
The Randy Dowager Quarterly: Vol. 2
- Main article: Codex entry: The Randy Dowager Quarterly: Vol. 2
A strangely ethereal quarterly missive of suspect virtue:
The Randy Dowager greets the temperate without temperance, collecting the uncommon Vigor Mortis, being a spirited necromance quite beyond the pale. Veils have never been so thin, as the question of where one goes is overshadowed by how often one might "arrive."
The Randy Dowager: Exhibitions for the noble of thought, but spry of step.
The Lady Herself says: "A plot that gives itself away in the end, but when the mood is right, who among us hasn't? Three scarves fluttered in shock out of five."
—RD
The Randy Dowager Quarterly: Vol. 3
- Main article: Codex entry: The Randy Dowager Quarterly: Vol. 3
A sadly pristine and unread quarterly missive of suspect virtue:
The Randy Dowager welcomes both season and heat by reprinting Their Knightly Needs, being a wartime tale of lines crossed, blows traded, and love's promise to bridge any separation with cunning intent. A timely tale of tensions relieved by soldiers coming together.
The Randy Dowager: Exhibitions for the noble of thought, but spry of step.
The Lady Herself says: "Historically questionable, but one does prefer the relief of a happy ending. For those who shy from politics, but little else. Three scarves fluttered in shock out of five."
—RD
The Randy Dowager Quarterly: Vol. 4
- Main article: Codex entry: The Randy Dowager Quarterly: Vol. 4
A well-thumbed quarterly missive of suspect virtue:
The Randy Dowager welcomes the shortened days with longing for the collected Two Telling Tails, being a story of rocking between hard places, first seeking escape, but ultimately finding release. Then, probably, a third bear-man shows up.
The Randy Dowager: Exhibitions for the noble of thought, but spry of step.
The Lady Herself says: "Strains credulity and modesty in equal measure, but where better to suspend disbelief than upon rising passions? Four scarves fluttered in shock out of five."
—RD
The Randy Dowager Quarterly: Annual
- Main article: Codex entry: The Randy Dowager Quarterly: Annual
An extra-thick annual edition of the suspect quarterly:
The Randy Dowager puts a bow on the year by gifting us the illustrated Inquisition Exposed, being a modern epic of love, betrayal, breaches torn, breeches torn, and the eternal struggle between concerns mortal and passions mysterious. An artfully branching romantic narrative that encourages the bibliophile to self-insert, or guide a friend.
The Randy Dowager: Exhibitions for the noble of thought, but spry of step.
The Lady Herself says: "A page-turner quickly flicked, describing both issue and reader. Five scarves fluttered in shock out of five."
—RD
Communal Notes on the Lighthouse
- Main article: Codex entry: Communal Notes on the Lighthouse
Thank you for your notes, Bellara. You've discovered fascinating things about these artifacts. —Emmrich
Thanks, Professor! I wish I knew more about the Lighthouse itself. The ancient elves crafted a lot of places right inside the Fade, but this one's so calm. You really think it "likes" company? —Bellara
Yes, from the way the etheric flow bends to the pulse of this place. The Lighthouse is shielding us from the stronger currents. Without it, we'd attract dangerous company in the Fade. —Emmrich
Did Solas build this place himself? How old is it? So many mysteries! —Bellara
Speaking of which, wherever did this stain come from? —Emmrich
Sorry! Coffee spilled when an artifact went off. —Bellara
Let us begin a fresh page. —Emmrich
Harding's Notes: Lyrium Dagger
- Main article: Codex entry: Harding's Notes: Lyrium Dagger
They had no idea it was a dagger when they found it in the primeval thaig. It looked like an idol with figures carved from red lyrium.
"Didn't want to stare at it too long," Varric once said. "Felt like it was staring back." His brother, Bartrand, kept the idol for himself, and probably stared at it much too long. When he felt his sanity slipping, Bartrand sold the idol to Knight-Commander Meredith of Kirkwall, who forged the idol into a blade. It didn't end well for her.
The idol remained lodged in Meredith's petrified remains until it was removed some years ago, presumably by Solas, and restored to its original form. That's when we learned about the idol's connection to the elven gods.
Solas used the lyrium dagger to create the Veil, and he's going to use it to bring the Veil down.
Waterlogged Notes on the Lighthouse
- Main article: Codex entry: Waterlogged Notes on the Lighthouse
The Lighthouse is a fancier version of flying buildings in Tevinter. (l know we learned that trick from the old elves.) Takes more magic to keep rocks floating in the real world than out here. —Neve
That has to be why ancient elves built so many things in the Fade. You don't have to use as much magic when you're always breathing it in. —Bellara
This place better not mess up my lungs. —Taash
The Lighthouse is well warded. In any event, your respiratory system shouldn't be affected merely by being in the Fade. —Emmrich
Okay. Thanks. That's all I cared about. —Taash
Why were these notes next to Assan's water dish? —Davrin
I didn't move them. —Bellara
Nor l. —Emmrich
Those damn wisps. —Neve
Note to Elgar'nan
- Main article: Codex entry: Note to Elgar'nan
To Elgar'nan, the Firstborn:
I am not "soft of heart" about any of my former creations. I wish to evaluate the current state of the halla. Nothing more.
However, the end of your human servants who pointlessly slaughtered halla at your temple was fitting.
You have also kindly suggested I "spend time to mourn," but Andruil is lost. Gone. It is a tribute to her skills that our people's descendants remember her as she was: a warrior of supreme skill. Lethal. Swift. Unsurpassed.
I look forward to building a monument to her in our new empire.
At the bottom, in lieu of a signature, the stamp of a stylized halla head.
Letter from Solas to Elgar'nan
- Main article: Codex entry: Letter from Solas to Elgar'nan
To Elgar'nan, Sun-Tamer, General of the Enlightened Army, first among the Evanuris, ruler of Arlathan, who woke at the dawn of the elves.
From Solas, Spirit-Speaker, Second to Mythal, Fen'Harel the Dread Wolf, who is no younger.
I ask you again to reconsider. To claim there is no difference between ruling as king and ruling as god begs the question of why you feel it necessary to claim such a title for yourself.
Most of the people accept your rule. You have shackled their bodies. Must you shackle their minds in turn? There is much we disagree upon, but you must see that hobbling our people with such claims will limit their spirits and tarnish the gleam of your leadership.
Your power is unquestioned. May your wisdom match it.
Letter from Solas to Ghilan'nain
- Main article: Codex entry: Letter from Solas to Ghilan'nain
I have seen your creatures. Some are beautiful, some are horrific, but all are brilliant. I can understand how such incredible achievements could make one feel like a god. Perhaps that explains the terror you have caused, and the transformations wrought upon those unable to defend themselves.
But you must know that you are not a god. You are a mage, and a title from the Evanuris cannot alter that. If anything, joining their ranks will bind you to their political will. You could make creatures to protect our people from the Evanuris. Why debase yourself and threaten our people by joining them?
Of course, I know why. I hope you gain peace with Andruil. You would not be the first to sacrifice your morals for love.
Elgar'nan's Reply
- Main article: Codex entry: Elgar'nan's Reply
To Solas, Spirit-Speaker, Second to Mythal, Dread Wolf,
Our lord Elgar'nan has received your words and will give them the consideration they deserve.
Rest well knowing our lord Elgar'nan is devoted to his people and their well-being, and wishes for them to have lives of peace and abundance.
Regards,
Desmal, Bloodbound to Elgar'nan, Keeper of His Rites
On Behalf of Elgar'nan, Sun-Tamer, Crown of Arlathan, First of the Firstborn, Lord of the Day and of the Night, who Woke at the Dawn of the Elvhen.
Ghilan'nain's Reply
- Main article: Codex entry: Ghilan'nain's Reply
I have always respected your intellect and your investigations into magic's boundaries. But you err in assuming I seek a title. Like you, I am not among the firstborn. The Evanuris will grant me magic I could never attain. New forms, new matrices of blood, already swim in my dreams. This is not for Andruil. Andruil petitioned on my behalf. She supports me, always, in everything.
You say to craft creatures to protect our people. I have already given them my halla. I made them when I was younger. Untraveled. Naive. I did not know then what flesh could do when compelled. Tell our people to treasure those animals. I could not make them now.
At the bottom of the letter is the stamp of a stylized halla head.
Elgar'nan's Handwritten Account
- Main article: Codex entry: Elgar'nan's Handwritten Account
I remembered the Dragon of Night being larger and more grand. Perhaps those long centuries in the earth diminished him.
I instructed Ghilan'nain to apply her craft to Lusacan. A simple transformation to return him to his former glory. To my surprise, my sister was bewildered, believing the dragon to still be as large as he once was. Ghilan'nain must be mistaken, but I will extend her grace. She mourns the loss of her own creature, and lingers in an uncharacteristic gloom.
Perhaps I can move her from listlessness by suggesting she give Lusacan additions of her choosing, while also augmenting his size.
Yes. I could suggest more teeth. Or extra mouths. That should delight her.
A Letter to Dorian
- Main article: Codex entry: A Letter to Dorian
Sparkler,
Thanks for the book recommendations. The library in the Viscount's Keep could use a little more class.
Kirkwall has been calmer since I got back from my trip to see old friends in Orlais. The end of the Inquisition flooded the Free Marches with able-bodied ex-soldiers looking for work and warmer weather. Suddenly, I have more hands than I have shit to fix or things to fight. It's a good problem to have.
Of course, a third of them still secretly work for better craftsmen than the craftsmen. Leliana always did have an eye for talent.
Give Mae my love, would you? It'll be a while before I can make a trip to Minrathous again, and she's the only family I've got left that I'm still speaking to.
—Varric
Sparkler,
Thanks for the book recommendations. I can use something to take my mind off things.
The end of the Inquisition left the Divine with a pretty big army and nobody to fight. Choir Boy up in Starkhaven keeps trying to persuade her to call an Exalted March against Solas. Sebastian always was good for a laugh. Of course, the city states of the Free Marches all hate each other, and half of them are trying to get the Chantry to back their long-standing grudge against the other half, and everyone's nervous. I don't envy the Divine, or what's left of the Inquisition, trying to keep the peace.
Give Mae my love, would you? It'll be a while before I can make a trip to Minrathous again, and she's the only family I've got left that I'm still speaking to.
—Varric
Letter to Charter
- Main article: Codex entry: Letter to Charter (Varric)
Yes, the trail went cold, but we haven't entirely lost it. Solas left us a little farewell note. So I'm not giving up just yet.
Maybe it's gullible of me, but I know the Inquisitor feels the same: Solas isn't too far gone to bring back. If he weren't, he could've just killed us when he had the chance. He didn't have to save her/his life when he took back the anchor. He didn't have to warn me and Harding to give up.
I don't think he wants to do this.
So, I'm taking the chance.
Yes, yes, I know, don't put anything in writing. I don't want it coming back to haunt me.
Charter,
Yes, the trail went cold. Harding is probably the best damned scout in Thedas, and she couldn't pick it up again. No, I'm not giving up yet.
The Inquisitor and I are in perfect agreement here: Solas has to be stopped. He thinks the world is broken, and the only way to fix it is to blow it all up and rebuild from the ashes. But, I don't care how much better the shiny new world will be after someone else buries all the bodies for him. I spent enough years of my life doing that cleanup already. The people who live in this world... the broken, shitty one? Their lives are worth just as much as his beautiful elven paradise.
And the worst part is, he knows it.
This is my last chance to make things right. I have to take it.
—Varric
The Trials of the Gods
- Main article: Codex entry: The Trials of the Gods
The memory of a sermon given on this spot still lingers:
How does one serve a god?
For the poor souls still in thrall to the Evanuris, that question has been answered for them. Service is no longer willingly given: it must be wrested, and it must entertain.
Mythal called her people together and offered this warning: "Shall you kneel in terror, work mindlessly, parrot my virtues, and think it the greatest of compliments to me? Do not merely follow the wise. Seek the wisdom they sought."
How, then, does one serve a god who scorns both servility and unexamined divinity?
The answer is in the trials they set for their chosen. We must embody their virtues, and know their regrets. There is no greater offering than to understand.
On Mapping the Unmappable
- Main article: Codex entry: On Mapping the Unmappable
This appears to be a piece of litter. Closer inspection reveals that it is an obsessively drawn map folded like a Rivaini paper toy. Unfolding it creates a three-dimensional model of... something.
A scrawled note is visible:
I refuse to be beaten. These are reflections of true places; they have logical form. Therefore, these streets and their origin points can be mapped as anywhere else. I have charted the shifting, intertwining dreams of a primordial sloth demon and its victims. I will not be bested by architecture.
My mentor keeps whining. "Some things are unknowable, Virien. You're courting madness, Virien." Well, I say to him: Would a madwoman concoct an entirely new schema of wisp mapping incantations just for this?
The rest is unreadable.
The Traitor's Last Word
- Main article: Codex entry: The Traitor's Last Word
The stone nearby bears the gouges of titanic claws. A message has been carved shakily into the ground with a broken tooth:
They accused me of treachery against Fen'Harel and cast me down from the heights. I protested my innocence then; I protest it now, crawling with my limbs shattered, but there is no one to hear. So I offer myself up for the execution that once most pleased the gods. May the name of Nunael be cleansed with flame.
Reflections on an Eluvian
- Main article: Codex entry: Reflections on an Eluvian
Tucked under a stone, these notes are a mixture of Qunlat and the common tongue:
The breath of purpose is extinguished. The others have returned to their roles, or they have vanished into the roads beyond. Should I return? My role awaits me. Yet I am here, and the worlds I have dreamed of are close.
The Qun teaches that every step on the path represents the choice to continue or perish, for only the dead remain still. In choosing, we go toward wisdom, or away; toward the true self, or away.
I stand before the mirrors and see a single being struggling with a choice. But solitude is illusion; struggle is illusion. In a reflection, the path forward looks like the path behind. One finds truth by passing through.
The Memories of Forests
- Main article: Codex entry: The Memories of Forests
This carved symbol is a common woods marker. Examination unveils a scrapbook of memories drawn from forests in the real world:
Seasons flicker past in moments of green and gold, blossom and ice. The brief lives of animals are tiny compared to the inexorable stretch of roots and the rising crowns of branches.
One memory stings painfully. A shout goes up, and strangers armed with magical fire move in the night. Figures flee between a burning sky and blackened trunks, crying for justice.
They vanish, and the forests swallow any trace. Shoots grow from the ashes, and wandering halla tread long bones into the earth.
The memories fade.
Notes From the Crossroads Islands
- Main article: Codex entry: Notes From the Crossroads Islands
Handwritten notes annotate a page torn from a grimoire:
His ritual may not have broken the world, but it has shifted another. Once, the Crossroads blossomed for the People. Now, islands rise in the great divides, and if this place blooms, it blooms unseen.
One should appreciate it still, for truth has its own beauty. The changed Crossroads is a sign of life both here and elsewhere. Its islands reflect the world beyond not just as we see it, but as the Crossroads is shown it. An eluvian has two faces, after all.
I wonder what certain acquaintances of mine will make of this - of the People's refuge taking on new form. Great plans will change, no doubt. But they should welcome it. Change, after all, sets us free.
A Monument to Humility
- Main article: Codex entry: A Monument to Humility
This monument has been methodically destroyed. One of the shards shows a victorious elven general. Written firmly across the smiling stone face are veilfire runes:
Here is the folly of Meranadas, dreamer and defender of Arlathan. He broke the ragged blades of the Hungering Brethren; he laid the head of the Moon-Bred Serpent at the Vunin Gates.
In his arrogance, he thought to claim these Crossroads for the glory of Arlathan alone. Upon these peaks, he set these monuments.
But he returned to find Arlathan lost and his people scattered, and those who sheltered the stranger and fed the hungry were greater heroes than he.
Here is the folly, and here also the lesson: Pride bears us to the heights, and pride casts us from them.
Elegy to a Dead Spirit
- Main article: Codex entry: Elegy to a Dead Spirit
Sketched on living bark, these veilfire runes impart the sensations of both ancient dignity and a piercing grief.
That which is ephemeral changes the ephemeral in others;
The light of being never goes unseen.
Far-sown memories remain, though you are no memory;
What endures now has no name, save yours.
Notes on a Caretaker
- Main article: Codex entry: Notes on a Caretaker
This note has a smear of paint on one corner:
Have they always been here? There are beings in the Crossroads unknown even to the wise, though the most ancient ones make any domain their own. Certainly, this Caretaker belongs here now.
I wonder what we look like to them. Need is a scaffold, and the needs of the living ever rise and fall upon it. Hunger, thirst, sleep... imagine the constant cacophony to one sensitive to such things.
Or am I too simple? Wants are fleeting; needs have deeper roots. Perhaps that's why I find this particular spirit's presence both comforting and disconcerting. The prospect that our heart's desire and our truest need could differ—or are even at odds—is hard to contemplate.
On Life in the Lighthouse
- Main article: Codex entry: On Life in the Lighthouse
This ancient logbook is filled with meticulous veilfire runes. Though it is encoded, flicking through it offers vignettes of borrowed memory.
Fearful refugees are ushered to the Lighthouse through eluvians, emerging from the infirmary and libraries as soldiers, spies, and scholars. Gardeners plant long-extinct herbs that grow, are harvested, and wither in the blink of an eye. The sharp smell of distilling medicine wafts from a window, and poison for the enemy drips into a vial. The arguments of a war council go on late into the night; forbidden songs are sung freely, with filthy lyrics substituted for the Evanuris' names.
Finally, a heated conversation silhouetted against glass with quick shadows darting behind it The argument ends with a wordless but unmistakable impression: "You summoned them: you feed them."
On Divine Imperatives
- Main article: Codex entry: On Divine Imperatives
The Helm of the Solar is destroyed. Elgar'nan's favorite torture is over; too many agents have been rescued with their minds burnt out by that memory of an enraged sun.
I feel a lesson here. The Helm was not created to torment. But the Evanuris are not as we are. A god's ruminations carry their own will, and imperatives. Memory bleeds into their icons and transmutes them, as fire begets fire.
For our Wolf-Lord, who puts so much of himself into his creations—what imperatives do they carry? The heart of a rebellion must remain hidden, yet the light of divinity is uncontainable. We must be swift.
A thought lingers: Even as he saves us, what does he impart upon us?
Reflections by Shirahn, One Who Renounced Daern'thal
On Leaving the Lighthouse
- Main article: Codex entry: On Leaving the Lighthouse
Only a few sentences in this ancient book are still decipherable:
...scattered now. The great enemy has vanished, but so has the Dread Wolf. After rebellion, there is a cry for reconciliation: not only with those we fought, but with those who stood aside and must now justify their passivity...
...there are empty rooms, but it is now the emptiness of peace, not of the fallen. We know these halls will be kept by...
...close out these pages. I gaze at the beating heart of the Lighthouse, fed so long with hope, and offer one last morsel. I am the last; when I depart, it will be into a world I do not understand. But I face a dawn without the Evanuris, and that is enough.
Memories of A Duet
- Main article: Codex entry: Memories of A Duet
The sheet music left by this instrument appears to be for a duet. It has been annotated by an expert hand.
The annotations are accompanied by clear emotional impressions: diligent practice, with a ruthless eye to mistakes; the relief of private achievement, away from well-meant misunderstanding and mindless worship; an unspoken joy in the center of rising, perfect echoes.
Finally, a beloved memory surfaces. A smiling glance, meeting at a crescendo; a shared moment of understanding; seeing completely, and being wholly seen.
The impressions fade.
On Rifts and Ritual Research
- Main article: Codex entry: On Rifts and Ritual Research
These dense research notes appear to be studies of the Veil, ritual experiments, and conversations with spirits. A few passages stand out:
Rifts in this Veil are spawned by death and bloodshed, or their memory. Even mortal regrets have such power. The Evanuris are not given to introspection: erosion of the walls about them may run slow. Their callousness is half their binding.
Elsewhere, around an anatomical sketch:
Reclaimed. Though damaged beyond repair, the Anchor's condition—used to both mend and destroy—is fascinating. A detailed study will consume what remains. But it may also yield the final elements that have eluded me.
Elsewhere, around a familiar ritual diagram:
At last. All my sacrifices have paid for this: a perfect reparation.
Logs from the Watchtower
- Main article: Codex entry: Logs from the Watchtower
Though faded by time, this logbook is partially legible:
Third watch. The helanaris returned. I charged the wards, and they drifted over us unsuspecting—I hope.
Sonen argued again that we should turn the lances of the Vir Eluvelin upon the helanaris, as if the Vir Eluvelin were weapons rather than June's cleverest inventions. I pointed out, again, that channeling the deep light of the Fade upon creatures born from it seems... unwise. But wisdom is wasted on Sonen.
Later. Wards dormant. Sonen drinking.
Later. Wards dormant. Sonen used the Vir Eluvelin to charge them. Drunk, he asked if I had ever looked into the lenses of the lance-beam and "seen them." I had no reply.
Later. Wards dormant. Sonen asleep.
I must watch. I will not look.
The Sword of Thunder
- Main article: Codex entry: The Sword of Thunder
I know not where the blade came from. At least, not originally. Deep in the the Crossroads I had ventured, when I found what seemed like the remains of a great battle. A fallen warrior, clad in armor with a peculiar mark of heraldry on their chest: an eight-pointed star, with the top and bottom points split in two. Scattered around them were the remains of several enormous insects--yet even as I watched, all the bodies, both he warrior and their opponents, slowly dissolved into magic.
Yet where the warrior had fallen remained a sword. It was of peculiar make: seemingly crafted out of many pieces, yet as solid as if it had been forged from a single hammer blow. On its hilt was a strange triangle, its corners rounded, and when I touched it, I felt a jolt pass through me, and a single word rose unbidden to my lips: "Tarsis." I shuddered. There was no elven magic present in the blade, so I knew this was not the work of the Evanuris. If not them, who? The second time I touched the sword, I felt nothing.
There is something oddly compelling about the weapon. Perhaps I will bring it back to the Lighthouse, and Fen'Harel can see what he can make of it.
-A page torn out of a journal
Notes from the Inquisition
- Main article: Codex entry: Notes from the Inquisition
My love,
You have summoned me to Minrathous, and I will answer your call, as soon as responsibilities here in the South allow. I have missed being by your side.
Will these troubles be the last we face? The world seems always to conspire, through duty or disaster, to pull you away from me. I do not resent it. You are dedicated to purposes far larger and more significant than myself. I hope you do not think me a fool for hoping that one day, your only concern will be the color you wish our walls to be painted, or the flowers we will plant beside our gate. I'm partial to carnations.
Yours always,
Thom
My love,
We are no strangers to duty, or the separation it demands of us. You head for Tevinter, and though I want to go with you, there is work we both must do. I will not falter in the tasks that wait before me and I pray my actions, in whatever measure they can, will keep you safe.
The others see only confidence in my resolve, but you have always known more than mere appearance. I confess to you, and you alone, that I am afraid. I'm afraid of what may happen, that Thedas will face such turmoil as it did before. I know not what awaits us. Yet even in the face of uncertainty, there are two things I cannot doubt and never will. The first is that our paths are never separated long. That I will find you at my side when I need you, as you will find me at yours. I will play my part in this and follow as soon as I can.
The second thing I never doubt is you. Whatever lies before you, trust yourself. Trust your heart as I trust it. It will not lead you astray.
Yours,
Cassandra
The top of the letter has been punctured by small, sharp teeth, leaving most of a beloved name and a few sentences chewed to read.
I fear the puppy started on this letter shortly after I did. I'd start over, but I must send this tonight if it's to reach you. Matters are settled here and I make for Tevinter as soon as possible.
I almost believed chaos might spare us this time. I can't say I wished to see Minrathous before now, but I am eager to see you. I long to see your face and know that you are all right. You are I've There's I wish I was better at putting into writing all that's in my mind. For now, simply know that I love you. It is the most cherished constant of my life.
The days ahead will not be easy. I know there's much you carry, more than many realize. But whatever you must face, you will not meet it alone. You have my sword, my counsel, my - I could write this list forever when all I mean to say is this -
Whatever you need of me, I am yours.
Cullen
Amatus,
I'm writing. Again. Yes, the sending crystals still work and yes, you'll be in Minrathous in a few short weeks. But a letter, written in blind longing, is real. It can be touched, and it can be held, when ink and paper must substitute for your skin on mine and my breath in your ear.
I used to scoff at frequent declarations of affection. Trite, I thought. Save them for rare and precious moments. But time and love are no longer things I care to squander, especially not as we race again toward calamity. And so, in each of these fleeting, ephemeral seconds, I will tell you that I love you. Whether penned or spoken, or conveyed by glance or action, I love you. In this moment, and in all the moments to come, for as long as they do, I love you.
I will find you soon.
Yours,
Dorian
Hey, Kadan,
Not the first time we've marched toward different battles. I know you're keeping the crap from catching fire up in Tevinter. Wish I could be there, but I'll make sure there's a world for you to come back to when you're done dealing with crazy vints and stupid Antaam and whatever other crap Solas kicked up. (Shit, the Antaam. Remember when I was worried what would happen if I went tal-vashoth? That right there!)
I know you're gonna be careful, and you've got Morrigan there. Just take care of yourself. If anything happens to you, I'm going to have to take Krem and the Chargers and stomp across all of Tevinter to come get you. It'll be a whole thing, and you know it'll upset Dorian.
Being apart from you made me realize something else. I spent so long being whatever the Ben-Hassrath wanted me to be. An investigator. An agent. A mercenary sending reports. These past years, since the Inquisition ended, I've been able to just be what I want to be.
And what I really want to be is yours. I like the person I am when I'm with you.
So come back safe.
Love,
The signature appears to be a stylized rendering of the Iron Bull's head.
My Dearest Lord/Lady,
I have spoken to friends in Minrathous. They offer us their hospitality, not to mention shelter from the worst intrigues of the Archon's Palace. While you're well acquainted with the roving eyes of grand courts, please take care. Tevinter's regard can be the oldest and cruelest of them all.
The family writes the weather back home is beautiful. I do miss our quiet times together.
There is a question I've wanted to ask you for so long. I would like to pretend I have been busy, or it was not the proper time. But, if I am being honest, I only waited because I have been afraid of choosing a poor moment. Please, let me make a promise to you here.
When we return to Antiva, I will ask you, on the steps of the estate, if you will do me a great honor. And I dream you will say yes.
Always yours,
Josephine
Postscript: I cannot believe it nearly slipped my mind. Yvette and Lord Otranto send their best wishes, and hope to see us back home in time to welcome their third child.
(An artistically doodled journal page presumably from the Inquisitor's partner, Sera.)
Keep this as close as I need you. (A drawing of a pile of flowers, with lines like it's moving, an arrow pointing to it labeled "us.")
- North again, Mini-wrathus still stuck up its own pucker.
- Magiturds are scared of us. They don't even know.
- We work with Maevaris, right? She's wow.
- So many Friends! Jennies in all the walls!
- We kill him this time. He took from us twice! (A drawing of a cracked egg scribbled out, with "can't even joke" in letters that tore the page.)
- Still thinking of you sideways.
- Never mind the Dalish, here's the Veil Jumpers! Tempest-kin! (A drawing of a tall, shorthaired elf (Sera?) and Irelin brandishing two fingers, backflipping as a tree explodes in runes.)
- The memory thing makes my head spin. If that Rook doesn't take it, throw it out.
- Tell Morrigan ppbbth! for me.
- I'll also tell her ppbbth! She knows why.
- Tell them to Stripe. Him. Up. I wanted more books. (More heavy scribbles that tear.)
- You meet; I'll keep you safe. Then I'm your time off, and you're my time on.
(The last section has different colored inks, like Sera has returned to it several times.)
New naked names:
-Sweet-tits (scribbled out)
-Bestest (scribbled out)
-Loverly (scribbled out)
-Lovey (scribbled out)
-My-for-always-and-ever - name's not too long, time's too short.
-But "Sweet-tits," though (scribbled out)
Vhenan, I do not know if you will see these words. My ritual is ready and will soon be set in motion. Perhaps when you read this the world will be as it once was, and you will see why all I did was necessary. I cannot ask your forgiveness, but I hope you come to understand. That night in Crestwood, when I shared the truth about your vallaslin... you do not know how close I came to breaking. I could have shared the truth, or even put my plans aside and simply stayed with you as Solas... as I wanted.
I regret the pain I caused you.
What I feel for you will never change.
The note is unsigned, but the handwriting is Solas'.
Inquisitor,
Greetings from miserable, rainy Minrathous! (Don't tell Dorian I called it that.) The rotten weather here is making me nostalgic for Skyhold. The mountains were freezing, but at least the air didn't smell like wet garbage.
We'll have to get in another game of Wicked Grace, soon.
Harding picked up the trail again. I'd tell you not to worry, but I know how useless that is. Instead, I'll just say: I've got a great team on this. Neve could stare down the Maker, and wait until you meet Rook. He's/She's/They're a natural: Smart, resourceful, completely unpredictable. You'd like him/her/them, as long as you don't try to beat him/her/them at cards. Chuckles'll never know what hit him.
I'll write again once we have something solid for you. Drinks at the Hanged Man are on me when this is over. Take care of yourself.
Varric
A Letter Dated Six Months Ago
- Main article: Codex entry: A Letter Dated Six Months Ago
Idiot:
I hope you're reading this. If the trail really has led you to Tevinter, it'll be harder to get messages through. The Antaam in Antiva are prickly about anything to do with our neighboring kingdom.
Back home, things have cooled, but they are not forgotten. Killing all those Antaam may have felt righteous in the moment, but the Talons are still complaining that your actions ruined weeks of setting up a larger, more effective strike.
I am one of those Talons still complaining. Consider this trip with Varric a contract. Crows don't fail contracts, especially Crows from House de Riva who may need to improve their judgment. But there is more at stake than honor. Whatever this Solas is up to needs to be stopped. I've seen enough of his handiwork to know that.
Don't get careless out there. Don't fail, and don't get yourself killed, or I will come after you in the Fade myself.
Warden Thorne,
If our calculations are correct—and none of us have gone astray—this letter should be at the inn where you and Varric are to meet Scout Harding. As with Varric, we worked with her before. She's a good scout and a good shot. We think you'll like her. Please tell her we say hello!
Anyway, to the point! It's probably best you've gone to work with Varric a while. Our superiors in the Wardens can't deny that the village is safe and the darkspawn stopped. But they are still not especially pleased with you. Or your methods. Or the people who helped with your plan. Evka and I have been given a somewhat remote assignment that no one else wanted. But we are no strangers to that! We've enclosed a list of addresses where you are most likely to reach us for the next few months. Should you need.
Finally, do not feel you are in exile. We know something of what Varric is after. When the world needs protection from malevolent forces—that's what Grey Wardens do! You're in the right place.
Be vigilant and stay safe.
Laidir,
The good news is that you got out of that ruined temple and stopped that artifact from falling into Venatori hands. The bad news is that the Rivaini noble who tried to double-cross you and ended up dead for it is the queen's cousin. We've got Rivaini officials who want to take you in for "questioning." not to mention all the Venatori who want your head for costing them the artifact.
So here's what we're gonna do. You and Varric are already getting along swimmingly, so we're extending your mission with him for a bit. He's searching for someone, some mage passing himself off as an old elven god. He'll fill you in -I stopped listening when there wasn't any treasure involved.
This works out for everyone. Varric gets a Lord of Fortune treasure hunter who knows ancient ruins better than anyone, and you get out of Rivain for a bit, just until the head dies down.
We'll see you when the job's done.
For gold and glory.
Isabela
Watcher Ingellvar:
Thank you for the latest dispatch concerning your venture with Master Varric Tethras. Given that you've spent much of your life in the Grand Necropolis, traveling further north must be a stimulating prospect. And you will be relieved, no doubt, to hear that the crypts have been silent since your departure. Some of the other Watchers continue to censure your methods during the War of the Banners, but I will work to ensure that they reconsider while you are away.
Master Tethras's claims that this "Solas" is an elven god bear witnessing. Even if Solas is merely a renegade mage using spirits for dire purposes, that alone is call for a Watcher to oppose him.
Vorgoth and I wish you fine luck on your journey. Remember: even outside Nevarra, the dead are ever ready with their supernal aid.
Watcher Myrna, Keeper of the Seals
Mercar:
Good to hear from you. I hope the North is treating you well, even if your quarry remains elusive.
Things here in Minrathous go about as well as expected. Venatori presence continues to grow, the result of an obscene amount of gold being funneled into the cult by sympathetic magisters. Some of the Shadow Dragons have had run-ins with some of them, particularly the ones seeking revenge for your shutting down of their slaver ring in Nessus.
But don't trouble yourself. This is nothing we can't handle. For now, focus on your work with Varric. A strong alliance with someone with ties to the Inquisition and Kirkwall can only benefit the Shadows and the people we serve.
Bring the light, and good luck,
Viper
Aldwir,
Strife has finally given up sending teams out to rediscover the route that was lost. Without the magic in the map, the paths will not open, and the map is gone. I know it was difficult for him to make the final decision. You could see the angry vein in his forehead for days after.
Now maybe he can start to move past it. Most of the others have already. But, of course, as the leader of that mission, he views your defiance, and the outcome that resulted, as something of a personal failure. We will give him time. You being away is a blessing, and we all hope that your work with Varric Tethras is going well.
You will be glad to hear that some of the younger Veil Jumpers are quite excited about you being on the trail of the Dread Wolf himself. You must regale them upon your return.
A Mysterious Circle
- Main article: Codex entry: A Mysterious Circle
A page torn out of a journal:
There's something wrong with these circles.
Well. I call them circles, but we've never found a complete one. Just enough pieces to tell us it was probably a circle once.
Being near them makes my skin crawl. My Keeper told me they're just artifacts of the old days, of Elvhenan. But I know they aren't.
He tells me that some of the elves—the Forgotten Ones and those who followed them—were evil. So some of what they made must be evil, too, and that's be the source of my discomfort.
But there's a difference between "evil" and "wrong." And these things are wrong.
I need to find one that's still intact. Maybe I'll ask Taeryn to come with me.
—Saeris, First of Clan Ersallae
A Second Circle
- Main article: Codex entry: A Second Circle
A page torn out of a journal:
We found it. A complete circle.
It wasn't in Arlathan. It was in the Deep Roads, of all places.
Someone heard what sounded like halla coming from a fissure. Taeryn and l, as the Keeper's Second and First, were asked to take a look and see if any of our animals had gone missing.
We went down into the Deep Roads and followed the sound. Could tell by the echoes that they were some ways in, so we got ready for a journey.
Eventually we found them in a chamber farther in, just as we'd expected. It was dark. I mean, it's dark nearly everywhere in the Deep Roads, but even the light spell that Taeryn had cast started to sputter out when we entered the room.
The air felt greasy, almost like we were pushing through it. But we made it to where the halla were cowering, and I saw it: a complete circle.
I took it. It was strangely cold to the touch. Even now, next to the fire, it stays cold.
And there's a marking. White lines and black triangles. I wonder what it means.
—Saeris, First of Clan Ersallae
A Final Mysterious Circle
- Main article: Codex entry: A Final Mysterious Circle
A page torn out of a journal:
I don't know how Taeryn and I are still alive. But we shouldn't be.
We'd been combing through old journals, missives, anything that spoke of the air feeling greasy. That seemed to be the sign of the mysterious circles, and even the broken ones had given off some of that same quality.
We found what we were looking for in an old scouting report from Clan Sabrae. They'd found a collapsed section of the Deep Roads that seemed to lead under the ocean—or at least they reported the smell of seawater.
So Taeryn and I went there. We got a little deeper than the Sabrae scouts, and we found another of the circles.
Then we saw them.
They looked like a person, though oddly dressed. Grey robe, grey helmet, and a mask.
Then they moved. Fast. They were suddenly in front of me. And they were reaching out—but there was something wrong with their arm. It was changing, shifting.
I've fought ogres, demons, and more than one templar. But I've never been so afraid, or so sure I was going to die. I couldn't move.
Taeryn saved me. She hit it with an arrow in the chest. It stumbled back, and that broke the spell. We ran. But we could feel it behind us, and it was getting bigger.
We lost it. I still don't know how. But I'm not looking for these circles anymore.
Let the past keep its secrets.
—Saeris, First of Clan Ersallae