The sounds of his screams echoed off the stone walls as she watched him attack the air, his sword cutting through monsters only he could see. She was doing her best to keep her distance from the templar. Part of her feared him, but there was a part of her that ached for something familiar. In the recent chaos she needed to feel some sort of stability to keep from going mad. So she had begun following him from a far. She could not recall how long it has been since she fled the death and destruction in Kirkwall. Had it been days, or weeks, since she witnessed the loss of her friends and colleagues as they were cut down by the very men who had been sworn to their care?

Her body trembled half from fear, half from starvation. She did not know how to care for herself like this. These are not things they were taught. Short of gathering herbs and berries, and even those had become scarce and fresh water is becoming almost impossible to find. As she ran, the sounds of her stomach groaning was becoming overshadowed by the whispers of the Demons. They were becoming stronger the longer she was frightened and alone. Yet she was still strong willed enough to resist them. She would not become one of those abominations she had seen in Kirkwall, she would not give into their lies.

She had stumbled across the templar only a few short days ago. He seemed just as lost as her. He was alone and injured. Her first thoughts were to go to him, heal him. But all to soon she realized he had been lost and alone far too long, as he mumbled and shouted to himself about demons and blood mages. That is when she should have left him. Others would come, they would find him, but her heart went out to him, so she began to follow as he continued stumbling and raving. He was young, not much older then herself perhaps, and she wondered if his incoherency was due to Lyrium withdrawal. She had heard other mages whispers, telling stories of how the Chantry would keep templars addicted to Lyrium, making the knights slaves to the Chantrys will. She felt badly for them if this is true. They are just as trapped in this life as mages are, all for the fear of the magic she was born with.

Another cry made her flinch and reel back slightly so he would not see her even though she doubted at this point he would. Slipping deeper into his own fear, everything around him seemed to be a distant memory. Trapped fighting his own demons it would seem. Watching him, she clutched at a small satchel hanging from her belt, knowing she had what the templar needed. She could end his suffering either way, but there was no telling if he was damaged beyond the aid of the Lyrium. Death may be kinder at this point. Her own doubt began to eat way at her. She had waited too long, her own fear of him had just prolonged his suffering. Guilt consumed her as she stared down at her hands, once soft and pale, now cracked and caked with dirt and blood. Dark greasy strands of hair hung loose in her eyes. She was lost and alone, her own fate sealed in this place. She would not last long on her own if she left him here, yet he may kill her for fleeing. It was a risk she would have to take.

Her fear melted away as she stood tall upon the stony rock ledge looking down at him, drawing on her power. She would not need much, just a small sleep spell, just enough to put him out for a few hours. The templar then stopped and stared up at her, eyes wide in panic, face twisted in fear.

"Demon!" his hissed, as the spell hit him. He was too far gone now to fight it.

She watched in tears as he collapsed to the ground into a dead sleep, his words hitting her hard. There are no demons here and yet her called her such. Sliding down off the ledge, coming to stand before the unconscious templar. What would she do now, the area was safe enough, at least she hoped. He was far too heavy to move like this, so she set to work removing his armor. Her stomach turned at the stench of him as she slowly peeled off the gear piece by piece. Rummaging through her pack, she removed three small vials, the blue liquid almost humming as she turned them slowly in her hands. It was a risk and he might be too far gone. She could be wasting what Lyrium she had scavenged before leaving the city. She did not even know how much to give him. Half? All of it? Then what would she do? Sitting back next to the templars head she uncorked one potion, setting the other two aside. Cradling his head on her lap she slowly poured the shimmering liquid into his mouth a few drops at a time.

The sun had began to set and yet he had not woken. The spell had worn off and dark was fast approaching, she spent the rest of the time caring for this stranger, dressing and healing his wounds as best she could. She gathered what dry brush and wood she could find, not wanting to go to far away and leave the templar unprotected. The man, not just a templar but a man. The idea made her smile, in the end they were all human. This brought her a semblance of comfort. Settling across from him she watched as he slept, and realized how very human he was without the armor. The ever looming templar that had always made her feel afraid and safe in kind was just as fragile as she was. All she could do was sit close to him and wait as minutes turned to hours. The sun had settled for the night, all that could be done now is watch and wonder if he would even wake.

Nights in the Free Marches were cold. No matter how smoldering the days were, at night one could quickly freeze to death. Huddling closer to the small fire, she fought the urge to slip into slumber as sleep threaten to take her, for she could not risk him waking and killing her while she'd slept. When she was sure all hope was lost and she could feel herself slipping into the Fade, the templar began to twitch restlessly. All feeling of exhaustion quickly fled. She stared now wide eyed and terrified. Even with his sword tucked away from his reach, she still feared what he would do. He mumbled incoherent words that she could hardly understand and she wondered if she had been to late after all, that perhaps maybe ...

She screeched as the templar bolted up, the need to flee over powering her, legs failing but refusing to move properly. The man seemed frantic as he looked around the small camp she had created. Their eyes locked, and his confusion turned to realization.

"You're real." he announced. His voice dry and raspy.

She only nodded, as words seemed to escape her. The sound of her heart pounded in her ears, and they stared in silence as if waiting for the other to make a move.

"You're an apostate." This was not a question, and the statement confused her. Shaking her head slowly as his expression turned stern and cold. All of her life she did everything she could to never step out of line. Always trying to stay away from the eyes of the templars, and now she realized she was a fugitive even if she was only trying to save her own life.

"I guess." she whispered.

The young templar grunted in response, his fingers brushing his lips. "How did you know about the Lyrium?"

Startled she quickly replied, "I guessed." She began to fumble with her fingers and turned to face the campfire, "I mean, mages talk, and I didn't know it was true, but when I found you I just assumed... I am sorry Serah." Tears stung her eyes as she stared into the dieing fire, attempting not to flinch when she heard him move. Maybe she did deserved to die? She did run away leaving everyone to their demise, what else was there for her? She had no where to run and now she would just accept whatever this templar chose to do with her.

"Whats your name mage?"

She whimpered softly, "Clara."

"Look at me Clara." he commanded.

She did not want to look at him. She did not want to see her death coming if that was what he intended, but he commanded it so her pale eyes slowly looked up at him. The young mage did not expect the templars expression to be kind, and watched as he knelt down in front of her.

"Are you from Kirkwall, Clara?" the young templar asked from his knees.

"Yes..."

Nodding slowly he rocked back onto his heels, "I see..."

"I... was scared, the templars... the Knight Commander, there was blood and death everywhere," Clara sobbed, "I didn't know what else to do."

"You've been running this whole time?"

"Yes."

"Impressive, most circle mages would not last half as long alone out here."

"I don't want to die..." Tears were flowing from her pale blue eyes.

"Clara you're not going to die, not if I can help it."

"You're not going to kill me?"

"Kill you? Clara, I am sworn to protect you, not only from yourself but to protect others from you. Surely you know this?"

"I... know... I just thought, I'd heard stories of apostates being killed instead of being brought back, I just assumed."

"That is not completely true Clara, although I think it best we avoid going back to Kirkwall for now, at least until I can find out whats happening there."

"I don't want to go back."

"I know, I am sorry but this is how it has to be. It is safer for you this way."

She could see he truly believed his words, and her emotions were mixed. The idea of going back to that life, she hated it. What would they do with her? As much as she feared death the thought of becoming tranquil frightened her more. Sadly she did not know how to care for herself outside the circle. Where would she live if she ran? How would she feed herself, where would she work? She had very few skills that did not involve magic. No one would help an apostate except other mages and where would she find them? Clara knew she was lost in a world that did not want her. All the things she paid no mind to while the other whispered amongst themselves, and she would admit she did not realize how nice the idea of freedom was until she had that small taste. Now to have it snatched away because of her compassion for a lost templar.

"How did it happen?" she whispered.

"What?"

"You, alone out here. How did it happen?"

"Oh..."

"I-I'm sorry I shouldn't pry, it's just that..."

"No, it's alright. After the word of what happened in Kirkwall spread, templars from all the surrounding towns had been dispatched to help take back the city. There was three of us, we were stationed in a smaller, out laying village. We had gotten word of the city's fall and set out with orders to terminate any mages that may have fled the city proper."

It was like cold water had been dumped over her head, as she scrambled to her feet, the need to get away was overwhelming. The templar lied, they always lie. Why did she have to help him? She should have kept going, left him to his own fate and hers to her own. He grabbed her arm holding her fast, he shouted but she couldn't hear the words. Fear ruled her now as fire began to bloom in her free hand. There was no way she would go down without a fight. The templar grabbed her other arm crying out in pain as the fire scorched his skin.

"CLARA! I am not going to hurt you, stop this NOW!" he barked at her.

Was he lying? She could never tell, but as she struggled with the hulk of a man she began to question herself Why would he lie? He could have killed her before, why talk to her? Templars did a lot of horrible things sometimes, but killing a mage? They always did that with swift precision. The fire died away but his finger dug painfully into her skin.

"Clara, it will be alright. You saved my life but I cannot blame you for running." he said softly, his fingers slowly uncurling from her wrist. He hissed in pain, large ugly blisters formed on his hand and arms."

Sobbing she took his hand in her own, he did not pull away as a familiar blue glow emanated from her hands into his. She could not help but smile as he let out a shaky sigh of relief. "I'm sorry. Healing is not my strong point."

"It's alright, hardly hurts now."

"Good"

"Bandits." He blurted out, shifting uncomfortably.

Clara stared at him confused. "What?"

"Bandits. We were ambushed, they normally don't bother templars but with what happened in Kirkwall they seemed to have become fearless in their endeavors. There was to many, my two companions were cut down. I guess I was.." Clearing his throat he turned away from her, "lucky."

"Oh..."

Picking up some more dry brush for the fire, "Get some rest Clara, we leave at first light."

As much as she tried not to stare, she could not help it. Watching him slowly put his armor back on the young man seemed older now. The way he held himself like someone who had lost so much, and she guess she did as well. Random things shaped their lives and tragedy had brought them to this point. A mad man's delusions of freedom by killing those who fear them. Clara knew she would go back, she wanted to help rebuild something good, and this man proved that not all templars are heartless. Maybe with all this destruction something good can come of it. Or at least she hoped.

"Thank you Serah."

He smiled at her kindly and nodded, "You're welcome, now rest. I will take watch. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Clara settled close to the fire, laying on her side she watched him sit staring into the darkness, and for the first time in weeks she was thankful for having a templar near her to keep watch.