The Fade rippled again, and the spirit curiously peered around to see the nature of the disturbance. The Fade had been changing for some time now, the dream-walkers comings and goings warping it irrevocably.

The dream-walkers were the best part of the Fade. She could hardly remember what it felt like to walk in a body of flesh, but through the dreamers she retained the little bit of herself thousands of years of death had left her.

When she had come to the Fade, it seemed… newer, blanker looking. The dreamers were like whispers of the life she once possessed, not people she could talk to and almost- but never actually- touch. But time changes all things, and so the Fade had evolved to accommodate the beings that now walked the earth. (Earth, she knew, with a capital E, but did not remember how she knew it, or what that really meant anymore.) Some of them now possessed magic, of all things, and she had always crept close to the walkers that had it, reveled in their glory from a safe distance.

When the magic users came, the Fade changed again, to something she found more appealing. The white wispiness became solid, and they kindly erected beautiful buildings and statues. She noted that few of the relics from her time had survived, with a detached sadness. Perhaps it was better that the dreamers knew nothing of Jackson Pollock, but it was a shame to leave so many other things behind.

She liked the first dreamers, they were so curious about the Fade and its occupants. She even occasionally talked to them, left them things she remembered, too. She remembered so little now, it seemed, but more and more came back when she tried. She left a statue of David for them to find, and was elated to see that many dreamers studied it intensely.

They told her things, whispers of the new world beyond. It seemed that much was different, now. There were new races, not dictated by skin color, but by other differentiating factors. There were elves, and dwarves, like in tales in her life long past. There was also a race the dreamers called "Qunari", which she immediately associated to the Uruk-hai of a tale she'd mostly forgotten.

When she finally found a Qunari, she could not contain her excitement. He was majestic, with long, curved horns and tall stature. He'd refused to speak with her, and associated her with what he called "demons of the Fade", but she couldn't hold that against him. It was entirely understandable to be cautious here.

It was true, there were spirits here that were less benevolent than one would hope. In truth, they had been people once, too. Everyone here was, at one point or another. But some had taken death… badly, for lack of a better word. With time, they devolved into their most base emotions, namely rage, or tried to strike underhanded deals with the dream-walkers for a chance to walk among the living again. Of course, what the walkers failed to comprehend was that the spirits meant for a rather permanent exchange, and were cast into the Fade in death as a result. They, in turn, became embittered with their unfortunate (but, she had to admit, self-inflicted) demises, and continued the process. The particularly charming ones had taken to appealing to more sophisticated methods of deception, and preyed on the dream-walkers with great ambitions and egos.

Those spirits had eventually become embodiments of desire, and pride. The sloth demons (and it still felt odd to call them that, not so long ago they had names and hopes and dreams of their own) had evolved as well, but were somewhat less likely to interfere with the dreamers, if only because they were so intent upon sleeping.

Her world had changed, and she felt misplaced in it.

To be sure, other spirits (more valiant ones, kinder ones, the people she liked to be with but had never been one herself) had taken it upon themselves to shelter the dream-walkers, to watch over them in the Fade, and save them from themselves. They became spirits known as Compassion, Justice, and various others.

Not all spirits had a purpose, however. Some, like her, walked the line between antagonist and kindly guide. She preferred her relative quiet, and basked in it. It had been hard, to make those dream-friends, and watch them crumble away into nothingness. So many had fallen prey to the earliest machinations of the demons that she hadn't known to save them from until it was too late.

When the demon- spirits had shown themselves changed, she had already known there was something wrong. The former palaces her dream-friends had built had grown blacked tendrils, which crept up and swallowed everything in sight. She had been dead thousands of years, but it had HURT to touch them, like they had bit straight into her very being.

The new dreamers called it "The Black City", and she would tend to agree. The beauty and purity of that time were lost past now, the statues and buildings swallowed up and perverted into mockeries of their former selves.

After that, she had lost much interest in the dream-walkers. They came and went, but she rarely made herself known to them anymore. They would perish, too, she knew, and she was tired of the heartbreak that accompanied their inevitable downfall.

So she waited in the outer reaches of the Fade, and gazed out to the Black City, and thought about what might have been.

The spirit was disturbed, to say the least. Dream-walkers were disappearing at an alarming rate, and not reappearing. If they were not dreaming, and not dead, where were they going? A boy she had watched grow up from a tiny babe had vanished yesterday, but was not dead. If he had died, he would have made himself known as a spirit, and she had checked for him. He had been worried for his Harrowing, or so he said, and she had heard him sputter in his sleep of fears for becoming a "tranquil". She didn't know what that noun was, she had always thought that word meant "peaceful", but he didn't seem to think that was apt.

And now he was gone. She wrung ethereal hands, but stayed in the same place. If he came back, she had to know, and he always came back here. If he wasn't here within two night-cycles, she would contact another spirit. Someone had to know what was going on, didn't they?

Two night-cycles, and the boy had neither dreamt, nor shown himself as a spirit. The other dreamers from his homeland had come and gone, and left her feeling despondent.

None of the other spirits knew what was happening, either, but were content in their ignorance. They felt that what was happening in the land of the living was none of their concern. Hell to them, there was obviously something very, very wrong, and she had never been interested in backing down from uncomfortable knowledge.

Were the dream-walkers avoiding them? Or were they doing something else after dying?

…Worse, were the demons finding a way to confront and seduce them outside of the bonds of the Fade?

The dream-walkers had become even more skittish in the years since her self-enforced seclusion. They shied away from her in droves, thinking her to be a demon of massive cunning to appear so unassuming.

But if the spirits didn't know, and the dreamers wouldn't answer…

There was nothing for it. She would have to ask a demon.

The demons of rage and sloth were worse than useless, and she utterly ignored them. At best, they would either scream or yawn at her, and she had no time to waste for them, even though her time was worthless.

She finally found a demon of desire attempting to lure a young elven woman, and abruptly shoved her out of the way.

"Run along," she commanded, pointing off into the distance, "and do not be fool enough to talk with demons. Dream elsewhere, girl, and pray I do not find you in such a situation again."

The woman nodded, if a bit dumbly, and scrambled off into the ether. The desire demon pouted, and crossed her arms under her ample bosom, pushing them up in a teasing manner. The spirit rolled her eyes, but rounded on the demon anyway.

"My, my, that was rude." The demon crooned, and lifted a hand up to gently touch the spirit's cheek. "I don't suppose you have any reason to come barging over here, and scaring away my nice new friend?"

The spirit momentarily started at the sensation of being touched, but tried not to show it. She refocused, and glared down the demon.

"Yes. I have a question for you, demon. Dreamers are disappearing, do you know why?"

The demon looked startled, but chuckled after a moment. "Usually, you spirits aren't concerned about what happens outside of the Fade. Are you thinking about becoming one of us, little spirit?" The demon moved back to trace the spirit's cheekbone, but this time the spirit was less than amused. She brushed away the demon's foul hand, and pushed her back.

"My reasons are my own. Do you know why, or not?" she growled. The sooner this unpleasantness was over with, the better.

The demon smiled seductively, and preened. "Why, yes, I do. It seems that some people are taking offense to the mages. They have come up with something that cuts them off to the Fade entirely, they call it being 'made Tranquil'."

That was somehow even worse than she'd feared. "How can they do that?" she gasped quietly, and the demon took the opportunity to close the distance between them, and gently touched her arm.

"The powerful do as they like, little spirit, you know that." The demon purred, running her hand down the spirit's arm, and then up back to her face. The demon leaned in closer to her ear, and whispered, "You could do as you like there if you follow me, little spirit. I can give you what you most desire, all the knowledge of the mortals, and power enough to keep you sated. What say you?"

The spirit had only been half listening, being rather occupied with a copious amount of horror. She didn't even register the demon's offer, and extricated herself from its grasp with nary a thought to it. She left the demon pouting in that part of the Fade, and went back to occupy her usual territories and ponder.

The knowledge that the magic-users were being lobotomized would have made her nauseous, if she had the body necessary to do so. It haunted her now every time she found a dreamer in the Fade. Would they come here again? What were they like, once they were cut off from the Fade entirely?

She had never been magical herself (in life, at least, millennia in the Fade had provided her with some interesting abilities she'd never been afforded before) and neither had anyone else of her world. She'd found it odd when she found herself here after dying, because she had never believed in any religion whatsoever. So she had to have something, to be here. Was it a soul? Were people taking souls away from others because they had magic? What could possibly justify such a heinous punishment?

And worse, how would one even accomplish that? Even the worst sorts of people ended up in the Fade, so it couldn't be that being immoral cost them their soul, for lack of a better word. Or maybe, their souls hadn't been banished, but trapped. She wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

It was with a newfound sympathy that she viewed the magic-users. Other dream-walkers filled her with suspicion. Was that one who took a little boy's soul away? Would that woman over there have allowed that to be done?

The world had never been uncomplicated, but she felt a weariness in herself that had not been there previously. Once again, she longed for the Fade as the first mages had made it, gleaming golden and pristine.

She first knew that something was very wrong when another spirit approached her. Spirits tended to keep their own counsel, even those that had taken up mantles of virtues, so that was odd in itself. But the Spirit of Justice had seemed even grimmer than she'd remembered it being, so she straightened herself and looked him in the eye.

"Have you noticed that many demons have disappeared very recently in this area?" He asked her seriously, and she felt her eyes widen in panic. Demons did not "disappear". If they were gone from the Fade, they had either been destroyed (which was exceedingly rare), or they had been summoned to Earth.

She'd bet her ethereal pinky on the latter.

"No, I hadn't." She replied honestly. It was rare for her to note the dreamers or demons roaming the Fade, as she kept herself purposefully secluded.

The spirit of Justice nodded. "There are dozens, if not more, demons that are unaccounted for in this area of the Fade. At least one pride demon, several desire demons, and one very powerful sloth demon have been noted missing in particular. If you find word of them, please notify another spirit, as it is best we all know their whereabouts."

Oh, god. And he didn't even mention how many rage demons were "unaccounted for." Even one of those was enough to tear many living apart, not to mention the more powerful demons he'd mentioned.

But who was strong (and monumentally stupid) enough to summon them all at once? It was too much a coincidence to assume these disappearances were unrelated. There hadn't been such a mass disappearance since the corruption of the Black City.

She shuddered, and the spirit of Justice placed a steady hand upon her shoulder.

"I do not mean to startle you, kind spirit, but another spirit has also gone missing. A spirit of Faith, as it were. So be on your guard."

She nodded, and turned back towards the Black City as Justice marched away and faded into the mist.

The spirit noticed then, in the distance, a dreamer. He was on the ground, and seemed to be flickering in and out of the Fade.

She went to him quickly, and placed a hesitant hand upon his back. He was breathing heavily, and continued to disappear and reappear under her very hand. He wasn't dying, but something was going wrong.

"Do you need help?" she asked awkwardly, patting his shoulder.

The young man groaned on the ground. She noted that he was very heavily armoured, and seemed to be in a great deal of pain.

She wasn't sure what was wrong, however. She turned him gently onto his side, and then it became all too obvious.

"Demonic burns," she breathed, and reached out to pull the tendrils out of his chest. They would have sucked him dry of life and blood, it was unlikely that he was in the company of a spirit healer. While she was working, he seemed to regain a bit of lucidity.

"Are you a demon?" he demanded, trying to pull away from her, but she smacked his head impatiently with one hand and kept pulling the remnants of demonic energy out of him with the other.

"Do I look like one?" she retorted, momentarily wondering why she ever did anything nice for the living. "I could just let the demon who stuck you bleed you dry, if you like. If not, hold still, I am not a patient spirit."

He obligingly quit moving, evidently temporarily cowed. After a moment, she sighed.

"What is your name, dream-walker?"

He blinked a few times, before deciding to answer. "Alistair." He said begrudgingly, "My name is Alistair."

"Nice name," she said offhand, "and what, Alistair, were you doing to get a demon to foul you up like this?"

Alistair grimaced (which was actually kind of cute, she noted).

"I suppose they may have been somewhat offended that I crashed their party," he joked. "Did you know they consider it rude to come barging in, sword swinging, and try to take their guests?"

"You were trying to kill them?" she asked, amused. This mortal seemed to have a nice sense of humor, and a spine to match. If he didn't die horribly, he might be fine to keep an eye on.

"I wasn't trying, I was actually doing a pretty good job of it." Alistair corrected proudly. "I'll have you know I thumped five rage demons before breakfast this morning."

She made the appropriate impressed noise, while she continued to work. "So all those demons really did get summoned, then?"

He nodded, suddenly serious. "There are some blood mages who summoned them into a Circle Tower. It's… not pretty down there."

"I'm not familiar with either of those terms." She admitted freely. "Blood mages, or a Circle Tower."

He seemed amused by that. "You are the worst demon, you know. Aren't you supposed to already know everything, and offer me whatever I want in return for all the kittens in Highever or something?"

"Whatever would I do with kittens, Alistair?" she asked, and he only answered her with a snort. She tried not to look offended, but he obviously saw through it immediately.

"You aren't really a demon at all, are you."

"You didn't even make that a question, but no. I am not." Finishing with the last of the demonic tendrils, and healing up the wound, she sat back and admired her work.

"So, am I going to wake up, or am I dead?" Alistair asking, poking his chest where the infected-looking tendrils had once resided.

She shrugged, and dully noted that he had begun to fade out of existence again. He wasn't dead, but his spirit was no longer in danger, so he would soon return to the land of the living. He would be weak for a time, but he would live.

But before he entirely blinked out of the Fade, she felt a strange and powerful tug on her being. She tried to claw at the ground of the Fade, to grab onto anything at all, but there was nothing to grab.

A multitude of things assaulted her senses all at once. Why was there so much noise? And for that matter, why was everything so bright?

"Alistair?" A panicked voice called from her right, and she tried to move her (suddenly, so heavy) head to tell them he was perfectly fine, and to please stop yelling in her ears, when realization hit her like a ton of bricks. Alistair had, however inadvertently, dragged her back into the living world with him.

A wary glance downward, and she realized the situation was even worse than she thought. She was occupying his body. 'Alistair?' she thought, very panicked. 'Please, please tell me you're in here.'

Shock permeated his form, and she realized he was. Luckily, he still seemed to be somewhat aware of his body, though she temporarily had physical control. 'Thank god,' she thought, 'I really don't want to be you forever.'

He seemed insulted.

'Not that you aren't a very nice young man,' she apologized quickly, 'but I didn't intend to get pulled along for the ride at all, and I haven't been outside the Fade for thousands of years. I've been dead a long time, Alistair. It's… a bit scary, to be honest.'

Now, he seemed approving, if worried. Weakly, he thought back to her, 'Will I get control of my body back eventually? I mean, I'm not stuck here, watching you take my body on a joyride, am I?'

'I think so,' she guessed, 'though I can't be sure. There isn't really a precedence I know of for this. I think maybe since you were so weakened temporarily, you unintentionally brought me here to cling to my power, and until you're well enough to take control again, I am running the majority of your body for you. Hopefully I'll be able to go back into the Fade after that.'

Alistair was obviously trying to think, but was receding into the depths of his mind. He was far too weak right now to operate, and she berated herself for not realizing what would happen in that circumstance. Of course a mortal would cling to her energy to keep them alive, when the alternative was essentially a coma and possible death. He couldn't have hoped to keep going on his own in the shape he was in.

Still, she couldn't bring herself to regret saving his life. He seemed like a very nice man, and he'd only been courteous once he'd realized she wasn't a demon. If all she had to do was keep him from dying for a few days until he was well enough to take control again, it was a small price to pay. It wasn't as if she had a pressing appointment in the Fade to keep, after all.

"Alistair?" A voice called again from the world of the living, and the spirit forced herself to the forefront of Alistair's body, finding his vocal chords hoarse and scratchy feeling.

"Yes?" she responded, feeling like an extraordinary fool. Her vision focused, and she found a pleasant-looking older woman staring at her in concern. She vaguely remembered that the woman was a mage she'd seen wandering the Fade before, with a spirit of Faith always close behind.

Wait… of course. If it had happened to her, why not another spirit? And judging by the weariness behind the woman's eyes, she had been in even worse shape than poor Alistair. Whatever situation this Circle Tower was in must be catastrophic.

"I thought we almost lost you," the woman (Wanda? Lynn?... no, Wynne, yes, that) sighed, relieved, and ruffled Alistair's hair.

Which felt amazing, by the way. She'd forgotten how many senses she'd lost as a spirit.

"Are you well enough to stand, Alistair?" another woman asked, concerned. The spirit shuffled through Alistair's memories, and found her to be a Grey Warden, a friend, a companion. What was her name? Ah, Elissa. "We really need to keep moving, this place is still very dangerous."

The spirit nodded Alistair's heavy head, and took a hand that was offered to pull herself up. This body was thick and heavy, and every movement felt like she was pulling herself through mud. Of course, she'd been without weight or substance for so long that that was to be expected, she supposed. She laboriously reminded herself how to walk properly, and followed the large group through the halls.

Luckily, no one seemed to expect Alistair to be in any condition to fight right now, or she may have been in trouble. His body moved without her to lift up his shield, but she didn't trust herself to wield his sword with any effect. She might hurt him (or worse, one of his companions) by accident, and she didn't want that.

She followed them awkwardly through a few more rooms, while she rifled through Alistair's memories to glean the information she needed. At least she knew what this Circle Tower was now, and Blood Mages. That Alistair was trained as a Templar was interesting, once she managed to put his memories of that into context with his current situation. He would have been very useful indeed, to suppress these demons. Unfortunately, she wasn't sure how to access those powers, or even if she could, as a spirit of the Fade herself.

Hopefully, once she left, he'd still be able to use them. She'd hate to think that she inadvertently did him irreparable damage in her unwilling possession.

They had reached a stairwell (yet again, how many floors did this damnable Tower even have?), when she noticed a stifling wrongness in the air.

"Everyone, stay back!" she tried to order, but the words seemed to fall on deaf ears even as the Grey Warden Elissa threw open the doors.

A pit settled in her stomach as she recognized the demonic corruption in the room, and the unmistakable form of a sloth demon.

Then, suddenly, Alistair's presence was falling away from her as the demon talked, and she was trying frantically to hold him back, to keep him with her. 'You can't go to the Fade, please!' she pleaded, but Alistair wasn't in any position to hear her, let alone fight a demon's influence. 'You're too weak right now, you won't last!'

But he was gone, and she was left alone, as the other members of his party collapsed to the ground around her with dull thuds.

"Why won't you sleep?" the sloth demon suggested, rather perplexed. "Aren't you tired?"

She gritted Alistair's teeth, and raised his sword and shield angrily. "I am not a mortal, demon, and you have just made a very large mistake."

It cocked its head, uncomprehending, and that was all the time it took for her to close the gap and cut him deeply. It was hard to control Alistair's body, but she had managed to gain the advantage.

The sloth demon swiped at her, but Alistair's impeccable reflexes (and she intended to tell him so later) kicked in, and his shield raised up in front to catch his claws. She pushed the shield forward into its torso, and forced it backwards, while she turned to slice at it again with Alistair's sword.

The demon was far too slow to counter, and she tore his left arm at the shoulder clean off.

She needed to finish this quickly. Alistair wouldn't survive long without his body at all. And the longer she left his companions here, the more likely that they would be seduced by another demon or drained utterly. She brought the shield arm up again, and bashed the demon twice in the head, thanking Alistair's considerable height for that advantage.

The sloth demon seemed to be properly stunned, so she lowered the shield just long enough to make a killing blow to the neck.

The sword struck true, and clove through the demon's neck. Even though there was considerable resistance, the spirit had to admit she was impressed with Alistair's strength. He really might be a mortal worth watching out for from now on, she mused, as she blankly wiped the black blood from the demon onto a nearby tapestry. Metal could rust, yes? It seemed prudent to care for Alistair's things while he was otherwise occupied.

It was an awkward battle, and ultimately longer than she would have liked, but it was over. Hopefully, with the demon dead, Alistair and his companions would be able to find their ways back to the land of the living much faster.

Ten or so panicked minutes later, the Qunari, Sten, shifted on the floor. Then Elissa, and Wynne, and Leliana. The other witch, Morrigan, got up with little trouble, and eyed her suspiciously. The spirit glared back, and the witch looked away. Then, with palpable relief, she felt Alistair's presence reappear.

'Are you all right?' she demanded.

He seemed pleased that she asked, and more than a bit smug. 'I didn't make any demony friends while I was away, if that's what you're asking. Though they did try, I'll admit. But once Elissa found her way to me, we didn't have any problems finding our way out of the Fade this time, even though she said it was a sloth demon's realm. I take it that was your doing?'

She wasn't going to try to deny it, so she looked over to the sloth demon's remains so he could see them for himself.

Alistair whistled. 'You did all that for me? I must be the most special boy in the whole wide Fade.'

'I just thought you'd make an awful spirit.' She retorted genially, 'You'd try to become a spirit of 'Truthiness' or something else utterly ridiculous. And if you died, I'd never get rid of you.'

'You've got me there.' Alistair chuckled warmly. 'I have always felt especially inclined towards 'Truthiness'. And how could I possibly leave such a sweet lady spirit unchaperoned? What kind of knight in shining armor would I be?'

At that, he paused, seemingly hesitating. '… You are a lady, right?' he asked cautiously.

She almost laughed.

'Yes, but I fail to see how that matters. I no longer possess the body that label requires, and haven't for a long time.'

Alistair seemed somewhat pleased, and she suddenly felt immeasurably guilty for deserting the living for so long. They really weren't as bad as she'd managed to convince herself they were. She was, dare she even think if, enjoying talking with Alistair. She was even somewhat enjoying temporary command of his body, though she realized it would get tedious or awkward very soon, when he had to go to the bathroom or have an intimate moment with a woman she didn't know whatsoever.

'You go back to sleep.' She berated him, though warmly. 'I don't think you want me to be in charge forever, and you're still not ready to take your body back yet.'

'Yes, miss.' Alistair teased, and she felt him settling in to rest again. 'Just don't make me do anything silly. Or, at least, don't do it in front of Morrigan.'

With Alistair squarely tucked away into a corner of his mind again, she turned her attention outwards, where the rest of the party was standing up and stretching their legs.

"Who killed the sloth demon?" Elissa asked, puzzling over its corpse.

"Ah, that would be me." The spirit shrugged bashfully, and looked at the ground. "I lunged at it while we were all falling to the ground, but I wasn't sure if that blow actually connected or not, since we still spent some time in the Fade."

Elissa shrugged, and no one seemed to care enough to ask any further questions, though evidently the witch had an insult ready.

"You didn't know you chopped its head clean off? I know you have managed to survive a frighteningly long time without a brain, but most creatures cannot attempt such feats."

The witch was lucky that the spirit was pretending to be Alistair, for she was starting to feel rather defensive of her new friend. The witch was going to need to tread carefully in the Fade from now on, that was for certain. She ignored Morrigan completely, and gestured to the stairs at the other end of the room.

"Shall we?" she asked pointedly, and started moving towards the stairs before anyone had the time to answer.

A pride abomination was the most hideous thing she'd ever had the misfortune of seeing. Pride demons were never good-looking, by principle, but this abomination was particularly unpleasant. The spikes and bonespurs jutting out at every angle, the tiniest bits of skin and clothing on parts of it, like this man Uldred just exploded into something easily six times his size.

Then again, that's almost exactly what had happened.

The actual battle wasn't so difficult. When Wynne was too occupied to read the Litany of Andralla, the spirit simply used some of her own energy to replicate its effects (and weren't those tricky mortals brilliant, using what was essentially converted spirit energy to wash out demonic influence), washing out the area with cleansing spirit energy.

Luckily, everyone was too busy to really take note of what she was doing, otherwise poor Alistair would be fielding awkward questions later.

Like Wynne had any right to be judging, anyhow. She'd confirmed the presence of a spirit of Faith when Wynne looked to be about to fall, and she'd miraculously (and also unnoticed) recovered entirely and started healing again.

Once the battle was over, she let the other Warden take over. Elissa stood in quiet conference with the First Enchanter and Wynne, before announcing that they were going to go back down the stairs to meet with the Templars.

She followed quietly down the numerous levels to the base of the Tower, and thanked her lucky stars that Alistair was in such good physical condition to do so. His body was injured, and exhausted, to be sure, but still manageable.

The spirit didn't even listen as Elissa extracted her promise from the First Enchanter, Irving, and motioned her entire party out to the waiting boat. Alistair's feet seemed to be made of lead, and the air of molasses as she trudged her way back onto shore and into their camp. She didn't even hardly take off his armor before his body collapsed onto his sleeping bag, and she fell into the first blissful sleep she'd had in thousands of years.