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The current year is 9:30 Dragon, and Thedas is living on borrowed breath. Ferelden is choked with refugees and rot, the air tastes of ash, and victory feels out of reach. Yet beneath the familiar horror of darkspawn and siege, a stranger dread has begun to coil through the cracks, a pressure in dreams and silence that does not belong to the Fade, and does not speak with any voice the Wardens recognize. When a sinkhole tears open near Gwaren, it is not merely stone that breaks, but certainty itself, and an expedition is gathered from the stubborn, the desperate, and the damned, those willing to descend...