A/N – I am a longtime lurker, first time publisher. I have written a few random short stories and fanfics in the past, but never got the courage to publish. The characters of DA:I have inspired me, so here I am! Suggestions and review are very welcome. I have no one editing these, so I apologize for any spelling or continuity errors.

I very much enjoyed the unofficial break between Act I and Act II of this game, and I felt there was a lot of room to explore the interior feelings of my Dalish Inquisitor and explore her relationships with the rest of The Inquisition members. I was touched by the romance between Solas and my Dalish mage, and I wanted to develop their pre-Skyhold connection. This story began as a planned 5-7 chapter short story of the adventure to Skyhold, and then, as stories do, grew into something more.

**Edit 7/23/2015** I was very busy with school and life, so I was unable to do any more writing. I am off of school (still working, but whatever) so I hope to get a few things started and published over the next two weeks before classes start again! I did a little edit of this first chapter, but left the rest relatively alone. Thank you all for your follows, favorites, and kind words. I am living for them. Everyone in this community has been so kind and welcoming!

**MINOR FIC SPOILER NOTE** – I wrote this story after my first play through, so I had no knowledge of siding with the Templars, and, therefore, did not meet Envy. I did not know there was a demon in the canon story that wanted to possess The Inquisitor! Envy is a different demon than the one that stalks Starling, and does not appear in this story, as Starling sides with Mages.

It was dark; black and cold. Starling's eyes creaked open, then blinked rapidly. Faint shapes revealed a place she had never been. The air around her, a haze; a dusty brown, floating rounded rocks and desiccated tree limbs twisting climbing crawling to the sky. Was she lying down? Was she standing? Her mouth felt dry and metallic.

"Am I dead? ... Did I fail? … Em'ma ha'lam?" She meant to say these words in her head, but they instead escaped her dry and cracking lips. The dust invaded her mouth and she felt a tickle in her throat. She was seized by a coughing fit. How long it lasted, she did not know, but long enough for water to pool in her eyes and slide down freckled cheeks. She spat, a small blob of foamy sienna spittle fell from her mouth in an attempt to expectorate the dirt and whatever else found its way in. Everything felt hollow. Real but not real. Starling squinted to see further, sighing when she saw the familiar outline of blackened towers in the distance.

"Probably not dead," she said aloud. The possibility of life motivated the young elf as she stretched her short legs in front of her, giving her body a once over. She appeared to have all her parts. The dust began to clear, and now took on the visage of dark smoky fog. Slowly, she stood up, taking in several cautious deep breaths. How had she gotten here? She could not recall. Her mind felt blank, empty, light. She had not been to this part of The Fade, though she couldn't be sure. Her lips relaxed into a small smile. Maybe I should stay here, she thought, relieved to be thinking in her own head instead of aloud. This black abyss was not so bad. The Fade always comforted Starling. It was her second home; one of the few constants in a nomadic Dalish life. No matter where she went, there it was. She began to feel a little warmth, content to stand in this darkness forever.

"There is something I am supposed to remember." She furrowed black eyebrows and made a motion to run her hand through equally black hair. Her eye caught a flicker of light on her wrist. Alarmed, she drew back her long sleeve to reveal a blackened gash, occasionally glowing a soft green in a pattern of symbols she did not understand. And suddenly, without warning, the memory flooded her mind, images running rampant past her eyes.

A defenseless keep, the smell of smoke, choking, filling her lungs and blurring her vision, We can't get out! The Templars are coming! Splintered broken doors, the sound of houses betraying their inhabitants. A child screaming, her face covered in blood. A old woman in white robes ushering masses of people into the stone building. An armored warrior with brick-brown hair wielding a mace, thrashing a bloody templar before being cut down, the bones in her arm breaking with a crunch and a scream until she is quiet. The brown eyes of a man looking defeated, saying goodbye. I was too late. A massive winged dragon, stinking of rotten meat, the heat of its breath blowing her hair. Give them time. They just need a little more time! The pale monster of a man with twisted ruby crystals protruding; his jaw a mutilated mess. A chain ripping from a trebuchet. Fire! Snow! Jump! Falling Falling Falling falling

The images spun around, exploding all at once in a dizzying spell. She reeled from the memory and felt the bile collecting in the back of her throat. She retched, falling to hands and knees from pain and inertia. She stayed still for a moment, coughing again, praying to the creators for water. None came. "Lovely." She croaked. The memory, first fresh in her mind, passed along with the dizziness, and Starling stood up, turning away from her own vomit. She had to get out. She had to run.

Her body felt light as she ran, hoping to spy a familiar spot. She knew not for how long or how far. Then, in the distance of the vast and desolate expanse, she spied a bundle on the ground. She slowed to a walk, eyeing the black mass. As she drew closer, it appeared to be person-shaped. She worked her jaw in fear, attempting to calm her mind. "There is nothing to fear in The Fade," Keeper Deshanna had told her, "So long as you keep a clear head. Trust yourself." Her teacher's voice calmed her nerves. Cautiously, she approached the bundle. It looked oddly familiar; small, and lying in a fetal position; its back toward her. A woman?

"Hello?" Starling spoke, her voice rougher and higher pitched than intended.

The woman didn't move. It could be a trap. A demon's trap, perhaps? Demons, she knew. Of all the things to fear, Starling decided, she did not fear The Fade, nor its inhabitants. Steeling her resolve, she approached the prone body. Bending down, she reached out her arm and gently touched the woman's shoulder, "Are you al-" The body rolled onto its back, dead weight; revealing a face. Starling jumped back, entranced in horror as she looked into her own eyes. Her dead face stared back, indigo-green eyes lifeless, cheeks pale and sunken, skin thin and taut against her skull, sagging around her neck, black hair matted wet, glistening. "What magic is this?" She demanded aloud, instinctively reaching for the staff on her back. The elf exhaled in frustration when she grasped at air instead. She rose to the balls of her feet, perched for flight.

"You are dead, lethellan," a man's voice; a familiar voice, spoke to her.

"Gailen?" She would know him anywhere. And as if on queue, he appeared. Gailen looked the same as he had when she last saw him four years ago. Blonde hair woven into several braids worn loose at his shoulders. His vallaslin the color of moss. He was smiling at her, a sad smile, his loose brown trousers dragging the ground, toes bare.

"I am sorry to be the one to tell you," he said; a frown growing on his lips.

"Why are you here? Where is Wytha?" Starling spoke quickly, not bothering to mask the shock of seeing her kin, the man who had run off with her blood-sister.

"We didn't make it, da'len," he continued. "We were attacked by a band of Shem in the night. Your sister is here, with me."

Something was wrong. They weren't dead! They can't be! Starling had always thought that Wytha and Gailen were out there, happy somewhere. Living a calm life in a small human village perhaps, or, more likely, traveling the seas as pirates. She cleared her throat, "Where are we?"

"This is just the entrance. Those who die in trauma are sent here first. I don't know why, but, The Creators.. they saved a place for us! Come with me. I will take you. It is a beautiful forest, Ansara! All The People are there!"

He held out his hand. Gailen always viewed himself as her brother, but they were not close. He loved Wytha, Starling's fire-hearted sister, dearly, and when she asked him to leave with her, he obliged. Starling had respected their decision, but it left her lonely and wanting. She wanted to take his hand and be lead; to shrug off the cares of Thedas. Starling reached a trembling hand out to him, but a tingling feeling in the pit of her stomach told her with urgency, Something is not right. "I-I can't." she stuttered, feeling his gaze on her, entranced. Her eyes widened in realization, and she snapped her hand back.

Ansara. It was a name she had not heard in- "He never called me Ansara." The words leaving her lips as she realized what she had almost done. Her bright eyes turned dark; her lip curved into a snarl, "I will not deal with you... whoever you are, unless you reveal your true self!" Her mouth felt even drier, as if it were filled with sand. She hoped her voice sounded convincing. She did not know how much strength she had left. Starling had no staff, but she still had her hands and her wits.

"Clever girl," The voice mellowed. "I was never very good at Elvhen," it lamented, and Gailen's muscular form melted and merged, the head sprouting horns, narrow muscled hips curving in form. It now had the body and face of a woman, and its red mouth curved into a playful smirk.

"I know you." Starling replied, her voice flat but feeling stronger. "You have tried to trick me before... Long ago!"

"Time means nothing here, Ansara, First of Clan Lavellan." Her voice sensuous and soft.

"I'm almost insulted." The sneer had not left Starling's face, her round nose was pulled up, as if she were mucking stinking stables instead of speaking to a creature of The Fade. "As if those old tactics would work on me now! And Gailen! Really?!" Starling said, incredulous. She took a breath to chastise the demon further, but stopped, realizing that she did not want to reveal more to this demon. This creature that had almost bested her in a moment of exhaustion and weakness. Almost.

"I know, da'len," The elven word was rough blasphemy from the creature's lips. The demon pouted, a hand caressing its own bare breast. "You are much too clever for these silly child's games."

Starling said nothing, but stared at her, unblinking.

"You have a body that I cannot resist, especially now." The creature glanced down briefly, its purple gaze lingering on Starling's hand. She could feel the demon's impatience and longing. To possess her; a primal need to control; to use this uncharted power that had been gained without intent, without purpose. To take The Mark for itself and run rampant. The creature let out a heavy sigh. "I hate doing it this way. You could just agree. It would be so much easier for both of us," it lamented. The demon lifted itself, hovering slightly above the ground, assuming a simultaneously nonchalant and threatening combat stance.

Starling's eyes narrowed, and she took a few more steps back. "I'm sorry, old friend." The tone of her voice conveying anything but contrition. Her heart thudded in her ears. Starling knew she was weak. While conscious, she had fought countless Templars and their shiny bloody monsters. Now, trapped in the fade, after tossing and turning and running, with no weapon... She did not know if she would survive. At least this demon appeared to hold a modicum of respect, honor, or maybe it was just the way it viewed The Fade and Thedas; one large playground with little risk. Starling cast a silent spell. The demon struck first. In the blink of an eye, its arms stretched out, doubling, tripling their length, to latch around Starling's waist, wrapping and squeezing.

"Ar din hara na, harel elgar!" Starling shouted as her prepared spell escaped her fingertips. It was so strong she thought it might rip her skin open. Starling had cast spells in The Fade before, but never with such acute fear for her life. The spell was lightning, spindly and dangerous. Electric tendrils danced on the demon's outstretched arms, releasing its grip. The demon squealed in pain, but then its tattooed face split into a heinous laugh.

Starling snarled as she felt the temperature drop. Ice and snow materialized in the air, pelting and surrounding her in gusts. The elf reached into the pit of her being to conjure something, anything, to counter the spell, but she felt empty. The demon was in its element, here in The Fade, and no matter how many times she had visited, Starling was still a stranger in this realm. She broke into a cold sweat, chanting words to summon fire in hopes to melt the frost. She felt her fingers freeze as the spell fizzled in her fingers. I will die here, and she will be me. As the cold wrapped around her, she began to give in. She was so very tired.

Starling, the Dalish so-called Herald of Andraste, defeated in The Fade by a nameless spirit. The laughter of the demon sounded like calm music in her ears, like the lute her sister used to play by the fire. No, not yet. She attempted to tuck her legs and roll out of the way, but she was weary, too slow, or the demon was too fast. Her left leg got caught on a dense ice shard the size of a nug, and she tumbled; falling. She was not accustomed to moving like this in The Fade, her home away from home. She landed on her back, the wind knocked out of her for a brief moment. But that is all that the demon needed. Before Starling could flip over, the demon was upon her, ferocious and hot. Its pale pink eyes ablaze with the madness of the hunt. It had been too easy.