"She's the one they've been speaking of?"

"Yes."

"She's quite small."

"She's an elf. And she's been unconscious for a while, we need to take caution."

"Hmm. And a mage? Interesting. What was her practice? Maybe she wielded fire magic...No, perhaps electr-"

"You're going to wake her."

"Is that not what you want?"

"It would be healthier for her to wake in her own time."

"Seems illogical. Don't the living ones need exercise? Food? I wonder what kind of food her kind eats. Where did her clan live? Does her kind eat meat? Perhaps not. She is very small after all -"

"You're being disruptive again."

Namyna could hear the voices drifting in her groggy mind, like wisps swirling in heavy cream. She tried to grasp them, make sense of their words, but it was difficult with the pain that spread through her arm. Swallowing dryly, she turned her head, attempting to blink away the blurriness in her vision. Neither of her guests seemed to notice.

"I am simply inquiring," the first voice spoke. Deeper, and sounding highly indignant.

The small girl's voice answered, attempting patience but slowly gaining irritation. "I have few answers for you, and she needs rest."

"You've said that, and you have yet to answer why," the first voice replied.

"And you have yet to let her rest."

"But there is so much to learn! I have yet to speak to a physical creature. Let alone one so small-"

"Stop calling me small," Namyna's voice weakly croaked out, her telltale annoyance still present. She remembered when Varric had once joked that she'd willingly learn the Maker's wrath before attempting courtesy.

The pair of voices, whose figures the elf could only see in silhouettes through her tired vision, stopped and turned with surprise to their ward. The girl was the first to respond, her hands of light pressing against Namyna's arm, causing the comforting cool sensation to spread through her skin. Namyna sighed in relief.

"You're awake," the little spirit said with a smile. "How do you feel?"

Namyna swallowed, attempting to shift her body. Unlike before, despite her aching muscles, her limbs responded with tired accordance.

"I feel like I've been trampled by a pack of feral nuggalopes," she sighed, wincing as she attempted to sit up. It was a slow process, but with the girl's help, she was able to lift herself to sit upright. Part of her felt like falling back in exhaustion and drifting back into sleep, but she pushed the temptation away. She was tired of sleeping. She wanted answers. It took a few deep breaths to steady herself.

The spirit smiled. "You've been through a lot. But look at you! You're already up and-"

"Yes, good! You're awake, so I may begin my inquiry," the other spirit burst suddenly, bustling up to the half-awake elf. "I have so many questions for you!"

Namyna eyed him sourly as he sprung towards her. He was less physically formed than the tiny elf spirit, his wispy form possibly some mix between a human and a Qunari, his figure lithe and tall. She was almost sure she saw him shift to be more elf-like a moment later, it was difficult to say for sure.

"You're a curiosity spirit," Namyna stated pointedly.

"Yes!" the spirit beamed. "Now, do you primarily eat vegetation and flora, or meat and other living creatures? Where did your clan originate? Do they travel together in large groups, or in smaller-"

Namyna blinked at him annoyedly, half in disbelief, instead turning to the smaller girl. She wordlessly stared in annoyance.

The girl smiled empathetically, patting Namyna's arm. She turned away, yelling something into the open void that surrounded them in a tongue that Namyna couldn't place - let alone confidently place as a verbal language.

As the curious spirit babbled on, happily unaware that neither of his guests seemed to be giving much mind of him, another figure began to form in the darkness. This one was much, much larger than the others - standing at least four times taller than even the curious spirit - and standing on four legs. The large beast, made of similar light as the girl's, approached calmly as though it were a cat walking in from a nap. It appeared to be in a similar form of a large dog, or perhaps a giant otter. Maybe both, or neither.

With gentle calmness, the creature lowered its maw around the curious spirit, who suddenly began spouting words of indignance as the creature took hold of him, despite neither seeming to be altogether physical. While the spirit didn't appear to be in pain, it seemed rather purturbed as he was lifted and dutifully carried along by his midsection. Namyna blinked after them in surprise and discomfort as the large beast walked away with its noisy guest into the darkness.

"My spirit of protection," the girl informed with a bright smile. "Generally Pride and Greed don't make things easy for spirits like me."

Namyna nodded unsurely. How long was she going to be here again?

"Not much longer," the spirit responded. Her eyes lowered to the woman's arm. "Your mark is still stabilizing." Her tiny, cool hands traced Namyna's forearm to her wrist with careful, gentle movements. The moment her fingers traced to Namyna's palm the mark sparked with green light, causing the girl's hand to yank away. She frowned. "It should hopefully settle soon."

Nodding, Namyna stretched her fingers cautiously as the sparking died down again. She could see where the mark had split up her arm, leaving scars like spiderwebs across her skin. It scared her to think what she had looked like when she had gone through the rift.

"What happened?" Namyna asked quietly. Her eyes turned to the girl, almost pleading. "I need to know what happened that night."

The girl seemed unsure, pursing her lips slightly. The spirit's beast returned calmly from the darkness, silently taking a seat beside its tiny hostess. The spirit looked up to her companion unsurely, before turning back.

"It might hurt, remembering. It hasn't been that long."

Namyna swallowed. "I understand. I need this."

Hesitating once more, the spirit sighed. She crawled up beside her ward, settling on her knees as her cool hands swept gently across the sides of Namyna's face.

"Just relax. I'm going to be right here."

Something about this girl felt familiar suddenly, but Namyna couldn't place it. Before she could question further, she felt her mind slip backwards, falling into darkness again.

"Dorian needs help!" Cassandra cried, blocking another swipe from Corypheus's claws. The glowing man snarled as her sword swung into his shoulder. The more damage they dealt, the more Corypheus' movements seemed erratic, less calculated. It wouldn't be much longer.

"I'm fine," Dorian snapped, casting another barrier before sweeping his staff outward in an icy blast. His arm was bleeding heavily, but his stance didn't falter. His eyes swung to the Inquisitor, eyes concerned.

Namyna was panting with effort as she slammed the blade of her staff to the ground, another wave of electricity coursing across the ground to their enemy. Her muscles were shaking, exhaustion attempting to drag her to the ground as adrenaline and resolve kept her upright. Her eyes met Dorian's, both sharing a look of worry and exhaustion. How much longer could they keep this up?

"Ha," the Iron Bull barked out in laughter, though it was clear his energy was waning too. "Son of a bitch is tougher than the dragons!"

"Glad you approve," Namyna yelled out, sending a barrage of electric attacks through the air. Corypheus snarled as they made contact with his back, eyes turning to the small elf.

Bull pulled his greatsword back, prepared for another attack. "You kidding? This is more fun than the time you got drunk and-"

Corypheus' glowing eyes pulled away from the Inquisitor, sensing an opening in the Qunari's focus. A swipe of his hand sent crackling red energy racing across the ground, bursting with energy as it reached its target. Bull roared in agony, his back arching as the energy lit fire to his nerves, his muscles straining against the pain. He fell to the ground with a gasp when he was released.

Cassandra bellowed, her sword again falling on the magister. Though landing a solid blow, it left her defenseless, Corypheus' hand swiping back against the warrior's torso. Cassandra landed yards away with a painful gasp. Namyna could see her struggle to lift herself again.

Namyna screamed in frustration, turning to Dorian. "Cover them!" The mage nodded, doing as he was ordered.

Namyna's stare could have killed in that moment. No more. No more pain. No more suffering at his hands. It was time to end him.

Corypheus again focused on the Inquisitor, a smirk splitting across his face with the sight of her icy glare.

"You think you can stop this, stop me?" He laughed, though his voice was weaker than before. "I am a God. You are nothing but a mistake, a pebble standing against the river of history."

The elf didn't falter. "You will not be writing this world's history."

Namyna's magic crackled around her, energy gathering around her staff. It surged within her, almost painful to contain. She held tightly to her resolve, nails digging against her palm and staff as she could feel the magic beginning to burn her own skin. The mark glowed in harmony with her own magic.

Corypheus took a step back, snarling. He lifted the orb.

Namyna swung her staff outwards. The energy surged from what felt like her very core, the magic spreading from her legs and her arms and her mind and her chest into the staff, enveloping the large magister before he could counter. He screamed in agony as the electricity tore at him, cracking his skin and chipping at the vulgar obtrusions of red lyrium through his body. Blood split from marks across his face and arms. Namyna sent every ounce of energy her body could withstand, her hand burning as the magic flowed from her.

When her body could no longer stand the attack she collapsed to her hands and knees, her enemy following suit.

Corypheus choked on his breath, horror filling his features. His eyes glowed red, shakily pushing himself upright. "Not like this," he gasped. "I have walked the halls of the Golden City, crossed the ages!" He lifted the orb above his head. "Dumas, ancient ones, I beseech you! If you exist, if you ever truly existed, aid me now -"

Namyna's vision danced, but somewhere in the haze, she stumbled to her feet. Her staff lay unattended on the ground, splintered into multiple pieces. The mark still pulsed, its energy and her anger pushing her forward. Corypheus didn't even see her approach.

Lifting her hand, the mark crackled. The energy begged for the orb, reached for it, grabbed it. Feeling the orb slip from Corypheus' hold, Namyna yanked it back towards her between their gap, the magister collapsing again as the artifact was taken from him.

She didn't even hesitate. Lifting the orb to the sky, Namyna felt the familiar rush as the mark connected with the rift above. The burst of energy roared. The rift twisted, curled, fought to stay open. Namyna could hear the demons on the other side screeching as they clawed to get through. Her vision swam as sweat dropped across her brow.

With a final push, the rift finally closed, its mar on the world slowly fading into the clouds.

Namyna panted, her legs shaking beneath her. But her work wasn't done. She dropped the useless stone orb to the ground.

Corypheus stared at her with disbelief, stumbling backwards as she stalked towards him. Somewhere behind them, a boulder came crashing down. More were following.

"You wanted into the Fade?" Namyna snarled. Lifting her hand, she let the mark crackle one more time. Its energy crackled to life, wrapping itself around Corypheus' form in a vicious grip. Corypheus attempted to howl in rage, but his voice was swallowed as the green glow of a rift began to envelop him, tearing at the space he occupied. She could see his face twist into agony as his body glowed and was finally consumed. She pulled the mark away the moment he was gone.

She had never been so close to a closing rift, and she was glad for that. The rift attempted to reach out against the air, desperate to cling to the physical world. She could feel a hot pain rush through her arm as the mark reacted violently. The green energy began to weave across her skin, working its way to her wrist and then elblow. It continued to vein its way towards her shoulder.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could feel the rush of the air as the ground they'd floated on fell back towards its place. She could hear the boulders falling around her. Distant voices called to her.

"Boss!" - "Commander!" - "Where is she?"

A weak smile spread across her lips as coldness began to bloom in her chest as the mark continued to grow. The ground suddenly came up to meet her, but it felt as though she were watching it through another's eyes. Her body felt numb, void, cold. She had given more than she had realized, and as color began to drain from her darkening vision, she became increasingly aware of the faint beating in her chest.

"Cullen," she gasped out, barely a whisper. Green light filled her vision, and she was lost to the world.

Namyna was brought to her senses by the sound of her own voice tearing from her throat. Her lungs ached, gasping for air as she attempted to bolt upright. A cool hand pressed against her shoulder stopped her.

"Please rest, you're safe," the girl's familiar voice soothed.

Tears threatened to well in the corner of Namyna's eyes, which searched wildly for any sign of the boulders falling or Corypheus' angry glare. When her mind caught up with her, finally seeing the spirit beside her, she was left trembling where she lay.

Her chest tightened, her breaths coming heavy. She wondered briefly if they had seen her disappear, or...She pushed the thought away as her stomach turned. Her exhaustion doubled, she turned to her side and curled into herself. Her fingers grasped at the fabric of her shirt collar, wishing it felt more like the heavy weave of the commander's coat. Pain spread up her arm again, and she shuddered.

The spirit's hand moved to her forehead, waiting in gentle silence. Namyna's shivering began to fade, and the spirit smiled gently as the open space fell to calmness.

"You're safe," she reassured as the elf drifted again to sleep.

"You have a shield, you know. Use it!" a voice called out from the courtyard, then a laugh. "There you go! Less flailing means less dying."

Cullen grumbled, disoriented as he lifted his face from its uncomfortable place on his desk. His arms had been resting on either side of his head, both numb and sore. He blinked a few times to orient himself. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. He'd fallen asleep at his desk again after a long night of poring over various correspondences. By the placement of the sun, it was nearing the afternoon.

Brushing some of the wrinkles from his disheveled clothing, Cullen unsteadily made his way to the training yards below. To his surprise, Varric stood attention in the center of the sparring ring.

"Better get that stance ready, Jumpy. I bet the wind could get you with your stance so small!"

Cullen made his way to the dwarf's side, who in turn gave a smirk. Both kept their eyes on the bungling new recruits.

"Sleep well, Curly?"

Cullen swallowed. He didn't care to tell him of the repeated dreams of Namyna's return, or the fact that he'd begged for the lyrium nightmares to return instead. Varric probably knew already regardless.

"Since when did you know how to brandish a sword and shield?" Cullen asked instead.

"How you hurt me, Commander," Varric chuckled. "I might not be the best at holding swords, but I've been around Hawke long enough to see what goes wrong when she throws it around."

A chuckle from Cullen, and a comfortable silence fell between the pair. After a few moments, the commander cleared his throat.

"Any news from the front?"

Varric sighed, his gaze going distant for a moment. "They'll be back by sundown tonight. No signs in Emprise du Lion."

The commander sighed, hands tightening. He needed to check the maps again. Perhaps there were areas they needed to double back to, places where the search parties had been too small -

"Hawke suggested a night of Wicked Grace might do the crew some good when they get back," Varric added before the commander could excuse himself, a smirk gracing his features again. "Bull needs a night off. And it might be nice to earn your knickers back, this time."

A blush spread over Cullen's face, bristling at the thought. "I told you, that was my last-"

"You need the break, Curly," Varric added seriously. "Just a few hands, and a round of drinks. I think we all need it."

Cullen sighed.

"One hand. That's all you'll get out of me."

"A-And then, Maker you should've seen it," Sera gasped through her laughter. "He pulled it right off! Big lug fell right over in relief. His big ol' arse was straight up in the air!"

Josephine spit out part of her drink as she tried to stifle herself in a mix of horror and laughter. Hawke had already doubled over in giggles, the warrior's drink more on the table and herself than in her cup.

Cole shifted in his seat, his face crinkled in thought. His hands worked at a small cup of water in his lap. "But where did he put the Goatfruit if he didn't eat it?"

Dorian took another swig of the warm liquid in his mug with a smirk. "I'd very much like to know, as well."

A long pause, before the group burst into laughter once more. Even Cullen, whose demeanor was loosened by the hum of the warm liquor, barked out in laughter. Josephine's blush turned an even darker shade of red as she hiccupped. Across the room, Blackwall seemed to be preoccupied with keeping himself upright.

"Another hand, ladies and gentlemen?" Varric called out across the commotion, already beginning to shuffle the deck.

A resounding "yes" echoed through the room, followed by the sloppy pouring of more alcohol. The more drinks poured, the less the overwhelming somberness at the beginning of the evening drifted away.

When morning light began to filter in from the staircase, most of the room's inhabitants had found their way to their rooms - or to the floor, as Bull and Sera's snoring forms evidenced. The three that remained upright - Cullen, Varric, and (surprising the first two) Josephine, sipped at glasses of water. Varric occasionally catered to the passed-out Hawke curled up on the bench beside him. The present trio continued to giggle in the quiet air.

"Her letters had said they'd had some minor knicks," Cullen recalled with a grin. "Maker, she looked like she'd gone through the Sixth Blight all by herself with all the bandages she was covered in. I didn't even know you'd been against a dragon until Cassandra gave her full report."

Varric took another swig of water. "Would've taken the Blight over those damn lizards." More laughter. "She never backed down from a challenge though."

Silence fell on the group. Cullen hadn't realized they'd been speaking of the Inquisitor for nearly an hour. It felt as easy as though they were talking of her while she ran to get more drinks. Josephine and Varric seemed to fall silent with the same thought.

Cullen coughed slightly, straightening. "We should probably call it an eve-"

The sudden squeak of the door caused a jolt from the room. On the floor, Sera grumbled before rolling over once more.

Leliana's eyebrow quirked when she saw the disheveled room, and its even more so inhabitants. She cleared her throat, closing the door behind herself. A small pile of parchments was nestled in one arm.

"Good morning," she greeted carefully, stepping over the sleeping qunari mercenary sprawled on the floor as she went. "Seems the games last night were...entertaining."

"I doubt our heads will agree, in an hour or two," Josephine sighed.

"Mine already doesn't," Varric chimed.

"Is something the matter?" Cullen asked quietly, already alert to tightness in Leliana's shoulders, her posture unnaturally straight.

Leliana's eyes dipped to her papers as she laid them out. Cullen wasn't sure he'd ever seen her so hesitant.

"I've been communicating with Cassandra. She will be taking a short leave from her preparations as Divine to visit Skyhold," the spy informed.

There was a noticible pause. Josephine shifted, already beginning to understand. Cullen's stomach dropped.

"And the purpose of this visit?" Josephine asked quietly.

Leliana's lips pursed for a moment. "We believe her presence would be a good opportunity to hold a memorial service for the Inquisitor."

Cullen's ears began to ring. What did she say?

"We still have plenty of men to search," Varric bit out. "We can easly continue for at least-"

"Our work in Thedas is hardly complete, we need our soldiers back in the field," Leliana replied smoothly. "And without closure, the morale of our troops and of our guests has steadily declined. I would doubt it's escaped your notice, Josie."

Josephine didn't respond.

Cullen balked at his companions. "You can't seriously be-"

"It's been three months. It's time, Cullen," Leliana cut him off calmly. "Prolonging this will only cause more pain."

A long silence followed.

The room began to swim, and Cullen wondered if it was the liquor or the lack of breath in his lungs. It felt like he was watching through another's eyes when he numbly pushed himself away from the table, hurriedly excusing himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear Josephine attempting to offer comfort.

The commander didn't appear from his quarters again for over two days.