A/N: Sorry this took so long. Lots of stuff has been going on in my life (curse you!) but this chapter is done and sort of beta read (Long story). Hope you guys in enjoy it and look forward to more stories from me in the coming weeks.

Chapter Six

Neria woke to hot-eyed pain. Blinking away tears, she sighed, tried to sit up, and groaned as her head protested and flopped back down.

Closing her eyes and she focused on breathing. It had been staying up all night that made her this way. The words of the dalish mage still resonated with her head, unnerving her to the point where sleep was a hopeless wish. The mage had asked her to do the impossible, sneak away and become an apostate. The very thought of becoming an apostate had kept her awake all night. But she needed to leave and learn to control her powers. The spirit inside of her couldn't keep the demons at bay forever. Its power was waning steadily as the demons kept up their assault. Even now the spirit rested, regaining what little strength it could for the coming days.

Neria bit her lower lip, stressing about what had occurred in her dream wasn't going to yield a solution. But doubts began to seep into her mind. All of them made her panic. Jowan's betrayal. The war with the darkspawn. Greyson's injuries. These fear began to spread making her more afraid. The fear of being found out. Fear of being killed labelled as an abomination. She tried to banish these thoughts but they lingered in the darkest corners of her mind.

She never wanted this, she hadn't asked for this. The tears began steadily streaming down her face as she couldn't contain her emotions any longer. She desperately sobbed into her blanket as all the sadness and pain she had tried to keep bottled away erupted to the surface. She couldn't think straight as her mind replaying all her failings and amplifying her fears to greater heights.

It took some time for her mind and emotions to settle enough so she could think clearly. Her life in the Circle was all she had and she didn't want to lose it. Neria had made up her mind then and there. She would not leave to seek out the dalish keeper.

"I don't think that is a wise decision, mortal." The spirit inside her said, displeased with her decision. "The demons cause great pain to dreamers. Remember this."

Neria ignored the spirit willing it away with a wave of her arm. Demons push on the veil within her mind, weakening it. All she had to do was avoid places where the veil was weak so the temptation of the demons would be lessened. If only slightly.

"The tower's veil is weak. That is why you were in such pain." The spirit spoke when she came to the conclusion. "Even here, at Ostagar, the veil is weak. The demons sense you and are pressing against the veil to get at you."

Neria twisted her face in deep concentration. She could feel the weakness in the veil. The already thin veil had been stretch thin with the deaths of those within the wilds. The dark magicks of the demons were lingering in the forest surrounding the camp, permeating the air like a lingering smell hanging tight to the air and the trees.

Though she still had faith in the army, she couldn't help shake the forbidding feeling she'd been experiencing since ever since she'd awoke. Like something terrible was about to happen, but she couldn't tell what.

Fighting the urge to return to her bed roll Neria pushed forward towards her tent's threshold. Morning had broken and the peaceful sounds of the morning were ruined by soldiers roaming around the camp going about their designated tasks. Stealing a quick look around, she saw men and women form up in preparationto march into the wilds while yet another patrol was going out into the wild. The army needed to know where all the darkspawn were in order to keep them in check and to keep an accurate assessment of their numbers.

The word around the camp was that the darkspawns numbers were growing after each defeat. Instead of decreasing like they should. Higher ranking officers tried to stamp out these rumours, but that only made the rumours spread further. The Warden's had yet to comment on the situation. King Cailan was quite positive about the situation, his resolve inspired every solider though not Teyrn Loghain. Word had spread that the Teyrn had argued with the King about the battles, which in turned lowered the morale.

Despite the feel of the low spirits, when one looked around the camp it didn't seem to be so. Solders whistled victory tunes as they marched through the camp. Sister's smiled at the passing solders offering a friendly ear for those who needed it. While others sought comfort in the few casks of wine allowed.

Retreating back into her tent she pawed through her trunk looking for fresh robes. The robes she wore the day prior were stained with blood, Greyson's blood. Instead of having it scrubbed clean she had the robes burned. It was on impulse; she hadn't given the action a second thought until now as she sorted through her few belongings.

A quick curse under her breath later and she found a semi-clean robe to change into. Casting a quick eye towards her tent flap, she quickly changed into her new set of robes. The robes that were given to her after her Harrowing. The lessons that she had learnt in her years learning magic in the tower had not prepared her for what she had experienced in the camp. The small comfort of the past calmed her somewhat allowing her to think clearly. Neria fixed her hair, abandoning her complicated ritual of gather her hair into individual ponytails and letting her hair flow free.

In all honesty it was a mess. It was untamed and wild, but Neria thought that it was suitable, given her current state of mind. It represented her inner turmoil. The hair hid her elven ears, though she didn't mind. Ever since arriving many of the men and women here treated her unkindly due to her being elven. Many mistook her for a servant of a pompous noble. Other saw her as "company" on lonely nights.

But no amount of hair could hide her elven frame and size. But with some luck maybe they wouldn't notice her and leave her be.

For a long while the only sounds were the soldiers marching through puddles and mud, then silence fell throughout the campsite. Confident that the solders had passed her by, Neria made her way out of the comfort of her tent. Only to be greeted by a Templar, Ser Obara Strand, the only female templar that had accompany them to Ostagar.

"Wynne has called a meeting. It seems you mages are going to actually contribute to the cause." The woman said flatly.

Ser Obara was not one for conversation with mages, or with anyone for that matter. She had too many opinions that clashed with the poor sods that tried to befriend her. Neria didn't really know if she hated mages, but, she never cared to ask the templar due to the latter's reputation.

If Wynne had called a meeting, then that meant that Uldred would also be there as well. Snaking off in the corner, watching her every move, taking in all her movements or subtle tells as he tried to prove that she was a blood mage or worse.

"Will Uldred be there?" she asked without really thinking.

Ser Obara stared at her for a moment, then responded. "No. He's currently engaged with the King, the Teyrn and the Grand Cleric to discuss how best to defend Ostagar from the darkspawn."

Good he won't be there; she hadn't felt this much relief in what seemed like a long time for her.

"Don't tally on, when you are ready go and find Wynne. She'll be at the tree outside of the mage encampment with the rest of them." She said pointing her thumb behind her head.

Neria obeyed the templars orders, having learned long ago that it was far better to follow the templars instructions rather than question them. Many a mage could easily be sent into confinement for such an offense. And since there were no dungeons at Ostagar, none that she could see anyway, there were gibbets and metal cages but they were reserved for deserters or to lock away a drunken man or woman until they sober up. Worse if she disobeyed she'd be locked away in one of those ghastly constructs to be gawked at as the templars made an example of her. A warning to all mages to follow their explicit instructions or face the consequences.

Her small journey outside the mage encampment had been devoid of anything interesting. She had given up documenting her surroundings. The ruins of Ostagar had long since been forgotten by the world, only a few scholars, backed entirely by the Chantry, had ever set foot into the ruins to study them. They discovered an old Tevinter Archon had ordered the tower, Archon Ishal. This fact debunked the fact that many thought that the tower was of dwarven construction.

In the back of Neria's mind, she hoped to uncover something that those scholars had missed, something that would put her name somewhere in a history book. But no. That desire had to be placed on hold for the moment. She had other more dire things to occupy her mind.

As she arrived she noticed Greyson sitting under the tree, chewing on some herbs. After she had healed him he was still in pain and the herbalist had given him some herbs to numb the pain. Neria felt bad for him. All of her healing skills weren't enough to stop the pain that was running rampant through his body. She wished she had better healing magic.

Greyson shot her a look and beamed widely. "The Hero of the day has arrived."

"Where's Wynne? I'd thought she'd be here?" she responded meekly, unsure how to act around him anymore, not after her unusual display of magic.

"She's with the others gathering up some ingredients for Lyrium potions. What's with that face? Something wrong?"

Wrong? Neria had no notion on how Greyson could be so… happy. She used magic that was far beyond her own skill, only because she had a spirt residing inside of her. He must have sensed how unusual her power was. Why wasn't he more… afraid of her? Disgusted? Curious? After a few moments of silence Greyson gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

"I like what you've done with your hair. It suits you." He smiled.

Neria fought back her tears. Greyson's friendly attitude melted her fears and when they began to talk once more all of her fears evaporated from her mind. They talked for hours about anything and everything from magical theory to gossip from around the camp. She hadn't had a friend like this since . . . Jowan.

Even though her former friend had escaped weeks ago many of the mages in the group to Ostagar had all but forgotten him, distracted with their new duties within the army. Neria hadn't. He haunted her dreams at times. The blood magic that he had used on her had been excruciatingly painful. It was unlike anything she'd ever felt before in her entire life. She had tried so hard to forget it, but it was stuck inside her mind.

Just as she was about to draw back away from the conversation, the others had arrived. Each of them were warm towards her as they greeted her with smiles and praise's. They had all heard about her saving Greyson the night before and each of them were impressed with her skills. Though her "skills" were all the spirit inside of her. As such, Neria felt that she didn't deserve their praise.

All around them the camp was growing sparser with warriors and knights as daylight was beginning to wan. The final battle was drawing closer. Everyone was getting into position, getting their final orders, sharpening their blades. The mages were never welcomed by the soldiers. Sure when their wounds needed to be healed they turned to them, but none of them would fight side-by-side with them for fear of them, or more specifically what they could do.

Not that any of the mages blamed them. These men and women were brought up in families that worshiped the Maker. They had all heard misinformed, and occasionally misguided, tales about the horrors of magic.

Soon their conversation became that of the upcoming battle. Where would they be placed when the battle starts?

"I've yet to see a darkspawn. Are they all as terrible as the soldiers says?" Neria asked timidly.

The rest of the groups faces go pale as the blood drained from the faces at the memory were dragged up.

"They . . ." Greyson stammered. He looked away, blanching at the memory of the darkspawn.

Before any of them could utter another word, Wynne had arrived with a weary smile clutching her staff tightly. It had been nearly a year since Neria had first seen Wynne this way.

She remembered the time well, because Kinloch Hold had just received news of the blood mage incident on the border of Fereldan and Orlais. The mages buzzed with fear, templars present in the halls in force. Amidst all that, Neria saw Wynne clutching her staff tightly, putting on a weak smile to sooth and reassure all gathered there. The blood mage had come from Kinloch Hold, he'd escaped while being transferred to the White Spire in Orlais. From what Neria was told the mage was talented and he'd earned his transfer to study runes and other such curiosities he had.

But he supposedly turned on his escorts, templars who had seen the mage grow from a young and scared child to an exceptional mage. He was slain on the crossing over to Orlais by the templar who had brought him to the tower all those years ago.

Wynne was the mages instructor for many years and it had hurt her.

Now she had that look again. Neria's stomach knotted in dreaded anticipation to hear some bad news.

Greyson looked to where Wynne had come from, and frowned. "I guess we will be on our own?"

"Yes. The Grand Cleric quickly shot down mine and Uldred's idea. The King couldn't change her decision."

"Wait, what do you mean?" Neria asked, most of them gathered had no idea what the two were talking about. Greyson sat up and turned to them.

"Uldred and Wynne came up with a plan to use magic to cripple much of the horde. We've ample stocks of lyrium potions, and with us being the only mages here, the plan was to barrage them with our combined power. In other words, we would have launched freaking large fireballs into the horde." He cracked a smile as he said, lost in the thought of the powerful image he had in his mind.

Wynne cleared her throat and continued. "It would be safer for the men and women fighting, yes. With much of the horde burning and dying I figured that it would make it easier on the soldiers to kill the creatures. But alas, the Teyrn is a cautious man, more afraid we'd misfire rather than fall victim to possession while channelling that magnitude of power. And the Grand Cleric." She sighed in disappointment. "Would rather not entrust the lives of the faithful into the hands of mages."

"So, that's it. Is there no way to convince them?" Keria added.

Wynne shook her head. "No. The Grand Cleric is quite adamant not to entrust us to use our magic to aid in such a way. We are going to be in the back ranks, blasting our magic at a safe distance . . . while under the watch of the templars."

"The back ranks! Our magic is hardly useful there!" Dorian yelled.

Wynne looked quite defeated and unwilling to argue further. "That is our assignment. We may not like it, but that is where we must go." Wynne turned and left the group their own devices for now.

Decius shifted, his back was against a stump. "Well, it seems like we'd better get used to this. I mean, why have us here have if we aren't even going to fight the darkspawn proper."

"What's with you all of a sudden? I thought you'd like our assignment in the back ranks?" Greyson questioned.

He was right to question him. Decius was not one for the frontlines. All his time here he'd been setting up barriers and tending to weapon enchantments with the Tranquil. And it was no secret that he hadn't wanted to come to Ostagar. Decius was the kind of mage who'd rather stay in the tower, hunched over a dusty book dimly lit by candle light.

"We've seen darkspawn and what they have done. I'd rather die helping out somewhere useful, rather than watch from afar."

Neria hadn't yet seen a darkspawn creature. The templars wouldn't allow her to leave the camp, which caused some tension with Wynne. "She is a spirit healer." Knight-Captain Cole said. "It would be best if one stay in the camp to tend to the injured."

Wynne couldn't fight against this and so she allowed Neria to stay in the camp. But Neria had seen the consequences of poorly fighting against darkspawn. It is a slowed death, a painful death. No one should suffer like that, not even the templars or slavers. Soon a horn blows and three templars appear. "It's time. Follow us."

The group follows them. Neria looked up at the darken sky and her stomach sank. They were following the templars into battle against the darkspawn. This night's battle could decide the entire battle of the south. Neria swallowed hard and continued forward.