Title: Morpheus
Summary: Redcliffe is pretty well doomed, and Ayah's past has an annoying habit of popping up wherever she goes.
Notes: There will be jumps in the story after this, since I'm not going to narrate every step of the Warden's story. Next chapter will cover the return of a certain assassin, and frolicking in the forest with the elves.

Like rats, all the way up the castle's pitch-black and dank escape tunnel the Warden's party scuttled. Due to issues of size, bad knees, and utter apathy respectively, Sten, Wynne, and Morrigan chose to remain behind while the others continued forward. It was decided that they would charge in with the rest of the knights when the gate was opened from the other side, while the rest of them would infiltrate the castle grounds through Teagan's tunnel; the Bann himself would do some reconnaissance with the Arlessa.

The tunnel was cramped and cold, and slick with algae that made their hands and knees slip several times, nearly causing a few injuries and earning many curses. Eventually through a combination of willpower and literal manpower, they managed to scurry inside and found themselves in a spider-infested corner of a dark, dank cellar.

"Well, this has just been lovely," Leliana joked, attempting to brush the grime off of her leather armor. "I'm going to need to find a bath after this. Perhaps several."

"Get in line," Aedan grumbled and adjusted his sword over his back once more. They'd had to remove the bulkiest of their weapons and drag them in a burlap sack behind them to fit inside. Only Ayah and the dog did not face that issue being very small, and the two stared at one another for a moment, blinking as both their eyes adjusted to the light. It occurred to her in that moment that she had no idea what Aedan's mabari's name was. It didn't seem to matter to the warhound as she scratched him on the head with dirty fingers.

The dog's ear twitched just as Ayah's did, both pricking at the same sound of distressed and distant breathing that alerted them to the fact that they were not alone in the dark. The Wardens were murmuring amongst themselves, but grew silent when the hound let out a light yip to get their attention.

"Someone is here," Ayah informed everyone, struggling to hear over the sounds of her fellows breathing. She took a few steps forward into a dim light, finding it easier after a few moments to make her way to a set of bars. She tested their strength. "We appear to be in a dungeon," she added.

"Just lovely," Leliana repeated and sidled up alongside her. "Let me see if I can find the door," the Orlesian muttered to herself as she felt her way around for an exit. Ayah, not knowing what to do, stood back and helped the Wardens with their weapons.

"Who builds their escape tunnel in a dungeon cell?" Aedan asked no one in an incredulous voice. "I mean, really, Eamon! Brilliant planning, this."

"Can anyone see anything? Any demons?" Alistair wondered, uselessly.

The hound began to growl. "Uh, hello? Is someone there?" A faint voice called from further in the dark. Ayah stretched out the faint senses that she had grown from her time amongst templars - it was like a muscle that she'd had to practice, and it felt very different from how it felt before she began, but she had discovered that she could sense magic by degrees. Near her, she could sense the templar, and something faint within both him and the Warden, like a familiar tingle from a forgotten past. (It wasn't unlike Morrigan's 'feel,' but the witch's was far . . . More.) Further along she felt the distinctive and diminutive light of the hound, the unusually dark warmth of Leliana, and further into the dungeon was a similar tingle like the Wardens along with the comforting hum of mortal magic.

"It isn't a demon," Ayah confirmed with confidence.

"Are you sure about that?" Alistair asked dubiously.

She looked up at him and blinked her dark eyes, a useless gesture since he couldn't see her. "Aren't you?"

The templar-Warden huffed. "This whole place feels too demon-y to me. A demon would've attacked us by now, though."

"Unless they were locked in the dungeon," Leliana pointed out, deliberately holding the door open for Alistair who had been taking his time.

"Swore I heard something," the voice continued faintly. A distinctly human male voice. Her hand went to the hound's ear in a comforting gesture that she'd seen Sten perform many times; the mabari may have been a warhound, but his master often spoiled him with affection. It calmed the beast fairly quickly, just as Leliana let out a satisfied hum when she managed to get the cell's door open.

"Definitely not a demon," Aedan called from further in the dungeon. He'd marched his way down to the source of the noise, and had managed to find himself a torch so he could gaze at something suspiciously. "Or a very silly looking one, at any rate."

"I - I'm not a demon!" A male voice protested.

[No, Lily - I - I'm not a demon!]

Ayah's step faltered at the visceral memory, but she was able to shake it off fairly quickly. Nowadays, it seemed she couldn't go anywhere without being reminded of something she'd forgotten. While she'd never been able to identify the source of the many voices, she felt strongly that it must have been connected to her beginning. Some memories of her previous life were vivid enough to infiltrate her current state, across time and space, while others were simply gone. Some faces were ingrained forever, like the face of Uldred, or Irving, or Cullen. The face staring at her from across the bars was not one of those faces.

"No," the dirty human mage on the other side seemed to be in denial about something. "Surana? How, n-not - how? How did -?!" His dark hair had fallen in limp strands around his face, a gaunt and sunken shape. "Oh, Maker, this has to be a nightmare. This can't be real." He stared openly at Ayah, so she felt it only right to stare back - after all, people treated you how they expected to be treated. His eyes were brown, and perhaps familiar, but so were her own in her reflection. The closer she looked, though, she was surprised to feel a faint stirring. The second she glanced away from him, she noticed the runes around the edge of his cage, rudimentary and etched only faintly, as if with a piece of rock. Such runes had been carved around the door in the repository, which she knew instinctively but could not really explain why. She hadn't had much time to examine them when she'd broken out . . . But she was certain of the nature of these protective, Tevenese anti-magic runes. Moreover, the runes were smeared with dark and dry human blood, which she knew could only have come from the mage who carved them.

"Maker's breath," the mage murmured. "What did they do to you?"

"For someone who spent all her time locked up in a Tower, you seem to get around," Warden Alistair commented lightly.

"Have we met, before?" She asked, feeling disturbed. "I feel as though we have, but I cannot explain why. Is it . . . Lily? Is that name meaningful?"

The mage flinched back, as if her words had struck him. "No . . ."

Warden Aedan held his torch a little closer to the bars and tapped it on them, causing the mage to divert his attention from his staring contest to pat at some embers that had escaped from the torch. "Oi. I assure you. We are very real, very dirty Grey Wardens who have had a very, very long day fending off a horde of undead. And considering this castle, and really the whole village has been overrun by said undead that we figured must have been the fault of some demon, we've come to sort it out and hopefully kill it to death. Since you look more malnourished than demon-y, I'm going to get you out of this cage and let you share our rations in exchange for answering some questions. If you attack us, we will kill you without hesitation. Do you understand?"

The mage gaped like a fish for a few minutes. "You-you're letting me out? You'd do that for me?"

Alistair also seemed to be in disbelief. "Now, hang on just a minute. We don't know he didn't summon this demon in the first place!"

"That is technically true," Ayah admitted. "However, he carved those runes to protect himself from magic. From the demon, m—"

"I-I didn't summon the demon," the human stuttered. "I swear! B-but I know who did. If you let me out, I'll tell you everything you want to know. I promise."

"He used his own blood to activate the runes," she added, finishing her thought, and feeling annoyed at the interruption.

It was the templar's turn to gape like a fish while Aedan merely ordered Leliana to open the cage, and flippantly dismissed his concerns about maleficary. When his fellow Warden objected, Aedan was quick to point out that Wardens never turned down help from any corner, and didn't discriminate against anyone no matter their practices. It was an eminently practical attitude that Ayah found herself wishing the Chantry would adopt; their teachings were very much unlike their practices, after all. Perhaps maleficarum would be less troublesome if they were treated as something more than trouble. Perhaps then the Chantry would waste less templar lives pursuing foolish mages who didn't know better, because they had never formally learned.

When the mage was out of his cell, he introduced himself as Jowan. Ayah found a few memories of a less-gaunt and hauntingly familiar face once Jowan began speaking, and wondered if it was in another life that they had met. Jowan seemed to certainly know her, but from what, she couldn't say. She had grown used to so many things fading, since she began, that it wouldn't surprise her to know they had once met.

The man was an mage formerly of the Circle. He had become an apostate for practicing blood magic, and though he claimed to have harmed no one, was nonetheless driven out. He found himself with few connections in the world and in Redcliffe, working as a healer on the side for those who kept him fed and kept his secret. Word of him had reached Arlessa Isolde, whose son had begun to emit the initial signs of mage-hood. Being as pious as she was desperate, she sent her guards to fetch the mage and demanded he teach her son to control his magic or she would turn him over to the Chantry.

"The Arlessa must be a very stupid woman," Ayah ascertained, earning a guffaw from Alistair and a chuckle from Aedan. "Magic cannot be controlled at such a young age. The boy should have been brought to the Circle, to learn in safety with his peers." It certainly would not surprise Ayah to learn that the boy was responsible for all of what happened here. Her own faint memories of her childhood were telling about the dangers of a young mage, left orphaned and alone in an Alienage. Like animals backed into a corner, or so her memory told her, a young mage would fight back against anything it saw as a threat instinctively.

"I know," Jowan agreed softly. "You once . . . Well, you can't control it when you don't know anything about it. I'm not an expert, I still left the Circle when I was apprentice. I taught Connor everything I knew because I was afraid for my life. He's a bright child, and I had nowhere near the ability necessary to rein him in. I had the benefit of good teachers, but Connor is . . . Very impulsive, and untrained. I fear he may have met a demon in the Fade during his dreams and made a deal with it. I haven't heard much from being down here, but the fact that no one has come here . . . And you mentioned undead, well. I think Connor may be the one doing all of this."

There was a quiet over the group as everyone processed this. Even the hound whimpered. "Then . . . The arl's son is possessed?" Leliana did not ask this so much as she seemed to meet an unpleasant realization.

"Most likely," Jowan confirmed before biting into some jerky.

"If he is an abomination, he'll have to be killed the save the people in the castle," Ayah explained for Jowan's benefit, since the man seemed preoccupied with food. "Though they might all now be among the ranks of the undead."

"What a pleasant thought," Aedan huffed.

"Is that sarcasm?" Ayah asked outright. "I am sometimes unable to tell."

"That was. Good on you. We'll teach you sarcasm yet."

"Isolde didn't seem too dead to me when she went to fetch Teagan, though," Alistair pointed out.

"Oh no, Teagan," Alistair groaned. "What have we sent him into? This is a bleeding mess!"

A thought occurred to Ayah. But, "It would depend on the kind of demon," she said aloud just as the thought occurred to her, "but it might be amenable to simply leaving, if we make a bargain with it. Not all are destructive, like Uldred. And even he was not always that way. The possessions in the Tower were desperate, done in the heat of the moment. If the boy is backed into a corner, he will probably fight back in the same way."

That gave the group pause. "There was that one templar," Aedan murmured. "I think that must have been a Desire demon, but then again, there were so many in the Fade I can't remember them all."

"Those were unusual circumstances to encounter the Fade in," Ayah told him. "It's probably a demon of Desire in this case. They find children to be easy prey. If so, it can likely be exorcised by a competent ritual. Killing it would be simpler, of course, and would solve the problem."

"We only came here for Eamon," Aedan seemed to be reminding himself more than anyone else of this fact. "And we don't even know if he's alive or dead."

"I think . . . He is still alive," Jowan stated uneasily.

There was some debate over what to do for a minute before Jowan decided after his small meal that then would be a good moment to admit to poisoning the arl. The arl hadn't died, to anyone's knowledge, but he had fallen into a dreamless sleep. Shortly thereafter, Jowan was locked in his cell and heard nothing more. His theory, which Ayah found to be sound, was that the boy had become possessed shortly after his father had fallen ill - the mental stress of that event had likely drawn a demon's attention across the Fade. After much cursing, it was decided that Jowan would be left to his fate - but Aedan wouldn't be putting him back in the cell. He told Jowan it was useless to get out through the tunnel they'd come in, since Sten and Morrigan were on the other side, and then instructed his dog to make sure the man wouldn't run away so he could face the arl's justice.

That was a moment before it came out that Arl Loghain was the one who had hired him in the first place, complicating the situation a little further since (and this became news to Ayah) Loghain was someone the Wardens wanted very much dead for 'murdering the king' at Ostagar. Ayah had recalled no such thing from the battle, ubt had also never met the King. Leliana clarified when she asked that Loghain had quit the battlefield, leaving the King and his men, along with the Wardens, to die by darkspawn. How Alistair and Aedan survived was, according to her, a tale for another time.

After quite a few revelations, Leliana parted with a few more dry rations for the mage and the rest of them went up through the dungeon into the barracks of the guards, and encountered numerous undead before cutting their way through to the courtyard. Undead seemed to be guarding every entrance - Leliana began firing arrows at anything that moved while the Warden ran to the gates and let the knights in, with Sten and Wynne. Ayah started knocking off the heads of any near her while the rest picked off the others.

Just as they all seemed to get a moment to breathe after the swift battle, there was a surge of mana near the corpse of a fallen knight, and a shadow that crawled along the ground towards its body. Alistair proved himself to be a fine templar and alerted everyone before dropping a holy smite on the spot, but it wasn't enough to stop the Revenant from being born. The knight's body reanimated with clattering armor cracking joints, operating its limbs and head like a puppet master would control its doll. The creature picked up its sword before quickly throwing itself at Aedan.

The Grey Warden barely had time to drive the thing back with his shield before it was on him again. Sten briefly got its attention, but it was fast - inhuman, a corpse that felt no pain driven solely by hatred of the living. Their combined efforts were enough to keep the creature busy, but not enough to stop it - it was not so much an expert in sword play, but a speed-demon with twice the strength of the man it used to be. It slashed and hacked and never stopped to breathe, recover, or reel in pain.

Morrigan then descended as a crow from above with a cry, and turned into a bear before she hit the ground running and charging at the beast from behind Alistair. He barely managed to get out of the way in time before bear-Morrigan was on the beast, pinning it to the ground with her massive paws and powerful jaw. Sten was nearest to the place of impact, and was quick to rush up and chop the thing's head off while it was down with a mighty cleave from his Asala. The body went limp, and Morrigan let it loose after giving it one last wriggle with her mighty maw. She stood up from her kneeled position and primly shook the dirty off of her robes.

"Is it over?" One of the knights wondered fearfully.

"Not at all," Aedan reassured them, "but at least we're not dead." They didn't seem to be reassured.

Ser Perth instructed the other knights to keep guard and finish off any undead, while he and the Warden's group headed toward the throne room. None of them knew exactly what they'd be facing on the inside, but not a single one of them was expecting to walk in on Teagan doing athletic head-stands and cartwheels to entertain a young boy sitting in the arl's chair. The boy clapped enthusiastically when Teagan fell from his head-stand after being startled by the entrance of the others. The Bann of Rainesfere tumbled and rolled all the way down the steps to fall near the Wardens' feet, panting and sweating. Isolde, seated nearby with a miserable expression on her face, looked at them all with a mixture of sorrow and terror and watched it happen.

The boy clapped and cackled while everyone stood about trying to figure out what exactly to do in such a situation, and if anyone had ever imagined themselves in such a place. Teagan was catching his breath on the ground near the steps to the throne, and Ayah offered to help him up. Instead, the wild-eyed Bann grabbed her arm tried to pull her down with him. She instinctively went limp and into a tumble, rolling quickly in her squeaking leather back up on her feet and gave the manic Bann the most annoyed look she could muster. "I must ask you to acquit yourself, Ser. And not do that again. Ever."

"Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!" The boy on the throne crowed in a strange voice. "Uncle, make the knife-ear fall again! Do it! I command you!"

"Connor!" Isolde let out, sounding shocked. "You should not use such language!"

Aedan marched up a few steps past Teagan and stared at the Arlessa with a mixture of disappointment and disbelief. "Allow me to ask you something, Isolde, and I want you to answer me honestly: where exactly are your priorities? Because it certainly isn't to the people of Redcliffe."

"Hey, you can't just come in anywhere as you please!" the little boy roared, standing up to his full height. It came to about Aedan's chest, and the Warden was wholly unimpressed. "And you can't speak to my mother that way!" he added.

"Connor, I presume?" Aedan asked. "Pleasure to meet you, but I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to your mother. Now be a good boy and quiet while your mother answers my question."

"You can't speak to me that way!" Connor shrieked. "I am the Arl!" Alistair and the others uneasily began to draw their weapons, not exactly sure what was about to happen but each of them certain that Aedan's strategy was going to get people killed.

Isolde was very near tears. "Connor, is . . . He is . . . Sick . . ."

"Your son is possessed," Morrigan told the arlessa factually, and impassively. She clicked her tongue against her teeth. "The simplest solution, and best thing for him, would be to end his suffering."

"How dare you?" Isolde hissed, red-faced and now fully crying. She stood in her seat and screamed down at the unimpressed witch. "How dare - who are you!? How dare you traipse in here, clad in rags, and tell me what to do with my SON!"

"'Tis not a boy," Morrigan went on, eyes narrowing, "it is a parasite unable to find foothold in this realm—"

"I SAID YOU CAN'T SPEAK TO ME THAT WAY!" Connor shrieked. The force of his emotion through his body was enough to cause a shockwave; the magic merely glossed over Wynne's swiftly constructed shield that domed over the party and the knights, along with Teagan, infuriating the child further. The demon showed through the boy's eyes with a bright purple flare of light, before quickly disappearing and leaving the boy to panic. Before anyone could really stop him, he ran away down a side-corridor and slammed the doors behind him telekinetically. Ser Perth and Alistair attempted to open it and give chase, but it was sealed.

"Don't worry, he won't get far," Arlessa Isolde said tiredly. She seemed to have calmed down considerably in the few seconds after she stopped screaming at Morrigan. Ayah still felt it was very rude and unbecoming of a leader. "He does this sometimes . . . He gets scared, and he runs away to his father. He - he won't hurt anyone if you leave him alone."

"Tell that to all the villagers that died," Aedan told her in a cold voice. "Tell that to the blacksmith, whose daughter we found trapped in the kitchen pantry and surrounded by undead. Tell that to your castle staff, all now among the ranks of the undead. Tell that to the knights that died outside to get in here, to try to save you. Tell that to the mayor who had to arm peasants and farmers to fight for the lives, because of your foolishness."

Each word of Aedan's seemed to hit Isolde like a blow, but did not diminish her composure. It seemed to only enhance it once the Warden finished, and the Arlessa stood with a sigh. "I am not ashamed for defending my son's life," she stated in a shaking voice.

Meanwhile, Teagan had been staring up at Ayah and blinking with a confused expression on his face. He made a noise and tried to stand, and she offered him a reluctant hand again. He took it gratefully, this time standing with a back-cracking crunch. "Ah," the bann groaned, looking pained and held his lower back. "Thank you, my lady. How did I get down there? Wait, where's Connor?" He seemed to panic momentarily.

"You fell down," Ayah told him helpfully. "We don't know where he is. He ran away down there." She pointed at the door.

"It doesn't seem to be a full possession," Wynne suddenly added, drawing everyone's attention. She had been musing to herself quietly during the exchange, and staring at the door Connor had sealed shut. "It couldn't be a full possession, or he wouldn't have run away in fear like that. A demon would be able to completely control him, and defended itself. He seems to be too emotional and impulsive . . . He reacted like a child. It's possible he could be exorcised without killing him."

Morrigan scoffed, clicking her tongue against her teeth. "The lyrium required for such a task would be immense. I don't suppose you have any on you, do you, Wynne? Hiding somewhere under your skirt?"

"Well, it isn't hiding under mine," Leliana said cheekily.

"Definitely not under mine either," Alistair added.

"The Circle could help, if we asked," Wynne went on, ignoring the comment. "Though, I don't know how much help they could offer, considering recent losses."

"The same Circle that recently became overrun by abominations?" Aedan questioned incredulously. "The one we had to save you from? You want the help of that Circle?"

"Well, it isn't always infested with abominations," Wynne snapped.

Aedan shook his head and turned back to Isolde. "How about, instead of that, we talk about the mage you're keeping in your dungeon? The man you threatened into helping you teach Connor magic, only to turn around and torture him, and then lock him in a dungeon to starve to death."

"HE POISONED MY HUSBAND, YOU IMPUDENT BOY!" Isolde shrieked, her composure now completely lost. Ayah was surprised that the Orlesian woman had managed to maintain it at all in the face of Warden Aedan's attitude. Few were able to withstand him, she had noted. "That monster corrupted my son!"

"No, Isolde, YOU corrupted him!" Teagan snapped, drawing Isolde's shocked gasp. "You invited this disaster when you refused to hand your son over to the Circle! None of this would have happened if you'd thought about someone other than yourself for one Maker-forsaken moment!"

"Yes, Maker forbid a mage be allowed to learn without the Chantry looming over their shoulders," Morrigan couldn't seem to help herself from snarking.

"Don't you start too," Aedan somewhat affectionately chided. Morrigan huffed at him but nonetheless went quiet, which drew a disbelieving guffaw from Alistair. "His name is Jowan, and he admitted to poisoning the arl," Aedan turned to Teagan, "and isn't it funny that the fellow doing cartwheels a few moments ago is the voice of reason in the room? Anyway, he also said Loghain hired him, so he's still in the dungeon with a very good guard dog."

And a very good guard dog he was. Sten offered the hound a few scratches after he received thanks and a treat from his master for fetching Jowan for them, thankfully intact. The disheveled mage was visibly uncomfortable in the throne room under everyone's gaze, but seemed resigned to his fate. Ayah offered him her water, which he took with a strange expression on his face.

"I've heard quite a few disturbing things about you," the Bann told Jowan sternly after examining him for a few seconds. "Tell me true: did you summon this demon?"

"Of course not!" Jowan objected. "I know better than that. I . . . I know blood magic. And I know that admitted that may get me sentenced to death, but if you decided that I was the one who summoned the demon, I would die anyway. Why would I lie about such a thing, facing certain death?"

"Perhaps to gain a better death?" Teagan wondered. "But you do have a good point. So, then Connor is the one responsible for all this bloodshed? How is such a thing possible?"

"Trust me, it happens more often than you'd think," Aedan told him. Ayah was getting better at detecting sarcasm thanks to Aedan - the Warden seemed to possess a boundless capacity for it. "Abominations happen every day."

"We think there might be a way to save him without killing him, though," Alistair interjected. "With enough lyrium and some mages, a person could enter the Fade and perhaps kill or disperse the demon from the other side, thus breaking its hold over Connor. The Circle might be able to help us if we could get a message to them in time. They owe us big time for fixing their blood magic infestation."

Teagan thought about this for a few moments. "It would take three days in total if you crossed Lake Calenhad from here . . . Who knows what could happen in three days?"

Jowan flinched. "There . . ." He began, but found himself trailing off and losing confidence. Ayah squinted at him when the gesture gave her a feeling in the gut like a borrowed pain - something that didn't belong, something that wasn't right. The scrutiny of the others seemed to break him after only two seconds. "There might be . . . An alternative method to entering the Fade. We could do it right now, even. It . . . I thought I should offer, because I don't want Connor to die. He, this, this isn't his fault. He shouldn't have to suffer because I wasn't a good teacher."

[Lily . . .] There was something about that name.

"What do you mean?" Aedan pressed. "Don't tell me you just so happen to have a magical artifact that one can use to enter the Fade from anywhere at any time?"

"Please tell me you do and it's hidden up your skirt," Alistair pleaded.

"No, nothing like that," Jowan shook his head, and his brows scrunched. "You found me in a dungeon, remember?"

Ayah had grown tired of the conversation. "Blood is a sufficient substitute for lyrium in a crisis," she stated, drawing the information out of her memory like a fact from a textbook. "It would require a sacrifice." This wasn't something that pleased anybody in the room, and a few seemed upset at Jowan for suggesting it in the first place. Ayah found herself in the strange position of defending Jowan, then. "Grey Wardens are known for using blood magic to combat the Blight," she pointed out, "and we are pressed for time. I don't believe something as fleeting as the law of a land should affect your judgment in a life-or-death matter, Warden."

"Oh, I hate it when she has good points about awful things," Alistair grumbled.

"Then take mine," the Arlessa threw in. "Take my life. Use my life to save my son." She approached Jowan, teary-eyed, who started to back away in fright.

"Absolutely not!" Teagan barked. There were almost unanimous disagreements from everyone in the room on this subject, but only Ayah, Morrigan, and Jowan seemed unable to find words on the subject.

Once everyone had quieted down, Aedan spoke. "I don't know how I can explain to Eamon, should he yet live through this, that I let this happen to you," he addressed Isolde directly, "or your son. No matter how much you may infuriate me." She cried, and buried her face in her hands. Leliana awkwardly comforted the woman and offered her a slightly dirty handkerchief from her breast. "Teagan? Thoughts?"

The Bann had no answer. Isolde had no answer, but seemed determined to die, which disturbed everyone except for Ayah who saw no problem in sacrificing the willing. Ayah was further confused when Aedan insisted that he, Morrigan, her, and Sten all remain at the castle to keep watch on Connor and the situation, while the rest of the group led by Alistair would travel across Calenhad to bid the mages' assistance. Connor was unstable at best, and if the boy's condition worsened, they had to agree to sacrifice Isolde's life with Jowan or Morrigan's help to enter the Fade, since she wouldn't hear of anyone laying a single finger on the boy's head. ( Quietly, during an aside, Aedan informed them that they were to ignore Isolde's demands and lock her in a room while they dealt with Connor should the worst happen.)

"Enchantment!" the young dwarf Sandal cooed as he petted the great doors. His eyes seemed to gleam in wonder as he touched it, and reacted as if he could feel the magic tactiley - his fingers twitched and his expression changed dramatically. Ayah cocked her head to examine the savant closely. It was clear he was unusually intelligent, and yet had difficulty tying his shoes, and seemed to her a simpleton at first. She had to help him tie them that morning when she was instructed to go and fetch him and his father from Redcliffe, by Wynne. Wynne, before leaving with Alistair and the others, insisted that the boy would be of service. When she'd had to tie his shoes for him while he stared in wonder at her forehead and called her 'Enchantment,' she was going to disagree. She'd thought 'Enchantment' was merely a nickname he had for her. His father had told her that the word was the only one that Sandal was currently capable of speaking, to his knowledge. Then, she heard from Bodahn how he had come to care for his adoptive son.

Sandal was very interesting. Sandal was certainly special, and had a clear mind. Much like her. The feel of him was clearer than anyone Ayah had ever felt - almost pure, like spring water, as compared to all the others she had met in her life. It was as if the world was full of noise and he was one quiet corner. Like a babbling brook compared to a rushing river. When Sandal touched the door, she instinctively copied him and touched it too. The dwarf looked up at her. "Enchantment?" he asked eagerly.

Not really knowing why, she smiled and nodded. "Yes, Sandal. Enchantment. Can you fix it?" Since Alistair had left, they had no templars at their disposal to drain the magic on the door. Morrigan had had no luck breaking the curse, as she called it, and did not like to muddle with Fade-crafting. Ayah found herself then in the strange position of wishing to be a mage as she was - she knew of the mechanics of the spell needed to break Connor's ward, but had not the skill. Feeling it closely in her mind, she touched Sandal's head and ran her fingers through his hair.

Sandal nodded beneath her fingers. "Enchantment," he insisted, and closed his eyes. Somehow, she knew to trust him to do the work. She let the dwarf go about his business and walked toward the Warden and Bann, who had been watching over the main hall and eying them curiously.

"That is a most peculiar young dwarf," the Bann said. "Where did you say you found them, Aedan?"

An expression Ayah identified as curiosity passed over Aedan's face. He scratched at his black beard and squinted at Sandal's door. "Doomed and surrounded by darkspawn . . . Actually, we seem to find a lot of things that way. A hazard of the job, I suppose."

Bann Teagan chuckled. "It is good to know all this darkness hasn't dimmed your humor. I wish . . ." The Bann of Rainesfere's face twisted into something unidentifiable to Ayah, before he seemed to shake himself of the feeling. "No matter. Forgive me. I do not wish to dwell on such things now. We can only focus on one solution at a time."

Aedan shrugged, completely nonchalant. "No need. I'll be at peace once I have Howe's severed head mounted on my mantle. I don't suppose you know where he is?"

Ayah's gaze whipped between the Bann and the Warden as they shot back and forth. Teagan shook his head. "I've been here in Redcliffe since Ostagar, and we've received no word from Denerim since the news of the King's death. Last I heard, Rendon was headed toward Ostagar. I must assume he fled with Loghain's men. Or never arrived, knowing him."

Aedan's eyes darkened. "That's what I thought. Our next stop after this is Denerim, by way of the Brecilian Forest to try and find the Dalish. Perhaps it's too much to hope that we'll find him on the road and I can gut him."

This was news to Ayah indeed. A part of her needed to blurt out: "We are meeting with Dalish elves?"

The Warden turned to her. "That's the plan, anyway." His brows knitted together. "Don't suppose you've ever met them?"

"She's Tranquil," Teagan pointed out. Ayah felt like that didn't needed to be pointed out; it was rather obvious. She scratched at her brand. "How would she have met the Dalish? Begging your pardon, my lady," he added with a glance toward her.

Aedan shrugged causing the scales of his armor to chime and clink. "I don't know, but Al had a point - she seems to get around."

She had to think back through many scattered memories across her lifetime. Why did they all seem to be out of order? "Once, on the way back from Antiva, we met Dalish archers. They were . . . unkind." That was the best description she could muster of the dirty, suspicious-eyed, scarred and tattooed elves that had so fascinated and repulsed her all at once. It had very nearly been a violent encounter, only for one of them to prove a little more rational than the other and suggest lowering weapons. They were hunting, nothing more. Ser Delaney had tried to make a joke then that flew over their heads, and seemed only to make them confused and angry. From there it was only bitter insults followed by storming off. "I know some elven language, I think. It has been a long time." She wasn't exactly sure why she knew any elven, since it was not spoken any more - even Dalish only knew a smattering - but she was just certain that she knew. "Though they spoke our language finely, with only a slight accent. They both had rough-hewn leather armor and curving facial tattoos, like a cultural brand, with hair in many ties. They gain their tattoos, called vallaslin, made from their own blood when they reach adulthood by hunting and preparing prey. They have a primitive culture. There was little about the Dalish in the Circle texts. Scant mentions of their mythology. They also seemed to dislike me more than the humans I traveled with." They had glared at her with fierce contempt throughout the encounter.

Aedan blinked. "Well, you already know more than I about them. I thought they were fictional as a child until I read about Garahel. I used to be obsessed with the Wardens, honestly. I saw one or two Dalish Ostagar - Wardens, both of them. They're fine warriors, that much I know, but a reclusive lot. They were pretty humorless. We're definitely going to need their help against the Blight, and someone mentioned seeing Dalish on the road to Denerim while we were in Lothering. Seemed the best lead."

She nodded, and felt her eyes drawn to Bann Teagan's. "You know the two Wardens well, ser," she asserted.

He perked up. "Ah, not so well, I think. Alistair, yes, I've known since he was a boy. He is, was, my brother's ward. And as for young Aedan here, it is less that I am—"

"My family runs the Terynir of Highever," Aedan cut in, simplifying Teagan's awkward explanation. "Arl Howe killed my parents and burned down my home before he left for Ostagar about a month ago. Long story short, the Warden-commander saved me. Also, Alistair was Maric's bastard son and was raised by Eamon, before being recruited by the Wardens as a templar. I mention it because it's bound to come up sooner or later."

Ayah took this in and processed it, before deciding it sounded like a lot of problems that didn't need to be hers. Clearly, they had a lot going on. "This doesn't seem very important next to the Blight," she told him slowly.

Aedan nodded grimly. "That's why we're going to shove a giant spear up the Archdemon's arse before doing the same to Howe, and maybe Loghain too if he or his men try to kill us again."

"Again?" Teagan frowned.

The Tranquil frowned. "It would be easier to cut its wings to prevent it from flying, and injure its legs before putting a spear through its underbelly," she advised, "since that's how I've read the Nevarrans do it."

Teagan sighed happily. "I would give the key to my treasury to see you try to impale an Archdemon."

Ayah shook her head while they laughed, and walked away, muttering to herself about impractical strategies in confusion.

It had been a day since Alistair, Wynne, and Leliana had left with the warhound across the lake to the Circle. Although the place had been Ayah's home for most of her life, she found herself indifferent to the idea of returning to it. She certainly preferred being outside, if for the air quality alone. She hadn't realized how musty the Tower was until she had been on the open sea. She had no more answers about herself than she before she left, but the experiences thus far she had found to be enriching. The variety of people that she'd interacted with was something she knew she'd never encounter in the Circle, and found herself with a desire to not return upon reflection.

No, she would not return to the Circle if she could avoid it. It did not need her. It had devolved past the point of needing her, and all of those connected to her past (save Cullen) were gone. The thought of Cullen's parting was enough for her to want to stay away - there was no reason at all to visit such unpleasantness upon him again. She understood now that her presence had only caused him pain since she began. There was no healing to be done while she was constantly there. He needed space, far away from her and those things that hurt him, to heal. To protect him, she had to leave him. It left a discomforting ache in her gut when she thought of it. Though she was Tranquil, she still felt some things. Perhaps it was guilt.

She stopped and wondered if this was the same thought that Loghain had when he abandoned Ostagar. She had heard the tale from Aedan and Teagan since, of the Teryn's retreat and the doomed King. Having not known King Cailan personally (or really caring), she was largely unaffected by the news. It did explain why the people they kept encountering seemed to be worried about an imminent civil war. According to Teagan, it had already erupted in the Bannorn - he'd been unable to return to his own lands as a result of this and Redcliffe's troubles. One thing seemed to be certain: the only solution to the imminent conflict was the Landsmeet.

Ayah's memory recalled a letter from King Maric to the Circle, announcing Ferelden's freedom from Orlais at the end of the occupation. A Landsmeet had been called, and he had been named King. It had been sent before her birth, was before her time, and had lost its relevance. There had once been a few Orlesian mages and templars at the Circle, and now there were simply fewer. It didn't seem to her to have anything to do with Maric or kingship at all; people came and went from Circles all the time. She herself had been born in Antiva, sent to Nevarra, then to Ferelden, then to Antiva again, and then back. What did nationality matter? She wondered how these men around her seemed so reverent of a name that truly meant so little to others, and supposed that they had lacked perspective. To her, the dying of the world as the darkspawn tromped over it seemed a more pressing concern than any civil war, and she had trouble understanding how people could be so-short sighted. Why be concerned with land and titles when all lands were threatened with obliteration?

Worst of all, none of the others could help in her understanding. Morrigan seemed just as confused (and a little angry) as Ayah herself was at the 'nature of men,' as she called it. Sten did not understand human ways and was very insistent that such a thing would not happen under the Qun (though somehow she doubted this, since text alone did not seem to be substantial enough to keep any society strung together, and she had heard of distant wars with qunari even from the Tower). Aedan had told her that 'stupidity is rampant and unavoidable.' Bodahn had confessed to not paying much attention to politics, and seemed surprised and a bit eager at the thought of a civil war. All responses disturbed her. How could there be no answer? How could people be so short-sighted about a life-and-death matter?

Shemlen, they are called. It was an elven word that came to her mind, meaning swift-children. Humans were quick to anger, quick to retaliate, quick to laugh, and always seemed to be in a rush to die. Though she had not met many elves, so did not know if her own people were different. Somehow, she doubted they were. Most had lived amongst humans and interbred with them for so long that there was no longer a difference between their societies. One was merely a dark reflection of the other, and there were none left who remembered a time before the fall of Arlathan. Perhaps Aedan was right - stupidity was rampant across all races, and unavoidable.

They took turns guarding the door while Sandal worked on it. He did eventually manage to get the first door open with a victorious cry of 'enchantment' at the top of his little lungs. Sten, herself, and Morrigan were the first to venture through it, only to discover the demon had similarly warded a door down the hall leading to the Arl's quarters upstairs. Morrigan let out a cry of frustration and stalked away, flying out of a window as a crow before anyone could bother her. Aedan followed in after them and tsked, while Sandal went about feeling up the new Enchantment on the door. "Give it a rest," Aedan commanded the dwarf, whom Bodahn had to fetch away. "We'll give it a day. I need to give Al the benefit of the doubt, here, and I'm sure this one will be easier to break with more mages."

"That is not how wards work," Ayah told him, but he had already made his decision.

She decided to study the ward herself while the others milled about. She had to promise not to fiddle with it - not that she could, since there was no physical inscription to disrupt. They would need the help of a templar, she knew. Waiting for Alistair appeared to be their best option, despite everyone's disagreements. Sten's were the most fervent and vocal - he did not want to suffer an abomination or a mage to live. Ayah had not been aware, til that moment, that magic was such a problem in the Wun. She had done little reading on the subject, and decided then that she needed to do more if she were to understand the stolid giant. Morrigan was impatient and wanted the mess to be over so they could move on - she disliked places built of wood or stone, and knew that Isolde stood ready as a sacrifice.

Why Aedan seemed to insistent upon preserving the Arlessa's life was beyond Ayah. The woman was positively determined to die for her son. She seemed to react to the concept of martyrdom like many Andrastians Ayah had met, perhaps forgetting that Andraste did not offer her life freely to the fire.

The days passed in tense silence. They did not linger around each other long, and avoided discussing Connor. The Arlessa passed her time in the Arl's study, weeping periodically. Ayah and Sten took turns guarding the door while Sandal worked on it. Morrigan flew in and out, only stopping to exchange hushed conversation with Aedan. She had not noticed before, but the witch's body language changed around the Warden. It was curious to Ayah, but she did not have the chance to study it. They ate in quiet. Teagan spent most of his time pacing in the main hall, occasionally stopping to speak to Aedan or Ayah; he seemed to have a fascination with the Tranquil elf that she did not personally share, but she was content to occupy him with stilted conversation. He seemed to need the distraction, although Ayah remained unbothered.

At noon on the third day, Alistair and the others arrived from across the Lake with another ferry shortly thereafter them, with another grumpy templar and four mages. Ayah didn't recognize any of them except for Irving; time had robbed her memory of their significances. Irving greeted her with some familiarity, but she largely ignored the congregation from the Tower and chose to keep her eye on the door with a hand near her swords. If the demon had sensed their arrival, it would surely retaliate; if it was not yet a full possession, they might have a brief window in which to conduct the ritual to save the boy.

As Aedan spoke to the Circle mages who were overseeing the swift setup of a Harrowing ritual in order to send a mage consciously through the Fade, she and Sten kept guard at the door that Connor had sealed. Alistair approached, eyes bright, and she noted the stubble that had started to grow on the man's chin over the last few days. "Welcome back," she greeted the Warden.

He smiled tightly. "Yes, hello. Don't tell me you two've been standing guard here for the last few days."

Sten grunted. "The boy has not made a stir, though we expected him to attack."

"Sandal hasn't been able to open this door," Ayah stated, "though he was able to disenchant the last. We needed a templar."

"Well, you've got two now," Alistair offered with a smile. He turned his head to look at the blue-robed mages, where Aedan caught his eye and gave a wave and headed over.

"Morrigan's out, so we're sending Wynne," was Aedan's greeting. "Once she's in, do you think you can dispel the door?"

Alistair shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

It took all of an hour. The templar that had arrived with the Circle mages stood guard over Wynne's sleeping form, while the other mages sat in a circle around her and focused on pooling their mana. Once the elderly mage had volunteered to take the lyrium, they spelled her into sleep and played the waiting game. Ayah and Sten kept guard by the door with Alistair just in case anything bad happened. She watched as Irving half-hobbled over to Jowan, where the gaunt apostate was seated on a bench guarded by two of Redcliffe's knights. Jowan visibly winced at the First Enchanter's approach and traded only a few hushed words with him before seeming to cave in on himself in shame. Irving let out a long and tired sigh before taking a seat that Bann Teagan offered to him. The entire hall fell into hushed silence as everyone waited. It wasn't long before Wynne awoke with a start in the center of the silent hall, drawing everyone's eyes.

"Now!" Aedan barked. Alistair nodded and concentrated on the door. After a few seconds, he closed his eyes and extended a hand and took a deep breath. On the exhale, his efforts fell on the demon's ward and Ayah flinched as she felt a cold, skin-crawling sensation pierce the air in front of her. She was surprised that she could feel the ward fall; she hadn't completely lost her sense for magic, though it was nowhere as acute as it was before she began. Sandal clapped and cooed from the corner of the hall as his father shushed him, and Sten kicked open the door on a nod from Warden Cousland.

Ayah elected to remain behind to make sure Wynne was alright, since she felt a sense of obligation to the mage that had once tutored her. Presently, the spirit healer was being helped to her feet. As Surana approached, Wynne was grimacing. "Ooh. Cold stone floors don't seem to agree with my joints. Ah well, I should be alright in a few."

"Would you like a healing spell?" one of the mages offered. She was young and blond, in yellow robes.

Wynne shook her head. "I'm alright, Petra. Save your energy." Her eyes alighted on the Tranquil who offered her arm to Wynne for support. "I could use some fresh air, actually. Go on, now." The mage Petra fussed for a little while but eventually gathered with the other Circle mages that had traveled there and started gathering their supplies. "Thank you, my dear. How long was I out?"

"Approximately one hour," Ayah informed her. They passed from the hall to the courtyard with little fuss. Either way that the incident ended, Ayah was certain the Wardens could handle it from there. Handling Isolde on the other hand . . . She eyed the Arlessa askance who at present had been harassing Teagan and the knights who were blocking her from going upstairs to the Arl's quarters, and blubbering nonsensically about her son.

"I seem to remember your Harrowing being much shorter," Wynne chuckled. After they stepped outside into the sun, Wynne took a deep breath of fresh air and closed her eyes in contentment. She let go of Ayah's support and crossed her arms under her breasts. "I was able to purge the demon from the boy. It may return one day, but I believe with proper tutoring he'll be just fine."

"Will Connor go to the Circle?" Ayah asked. She hadn't been aware of the party's intentions, but it seemed that the Bann was in favor of sending the boy to the Circle for proper instruction. After witnessing how Morrigan had acquitted herself so far, however, Ayah was no longer so certain that the Circle was the best place for mages. Perhaps it was a trade-off; the Circle allowed for privacy and instruction amongst their fellows, but the restrictions imposed upon the Chantry on their craft also hindered their development. She could not picture the elderly Wynne or Irving as shape-shifters, after all.

"Most likely," Wynne confirmed, "although I suppose that will be determined by determined by his parents. He's in a unique position as the son of the Arl while he lays on his deathbed." The woman paused and looked up into the sky as a distant cloud caught her eye. "I sensed his mind while in the Fade. I suspect one day he will make a fine and powerful mage. Having lived most of his life here, however, I can't say whether or not he would do well in the Ferelden Circle, especially considering how fractured it is now."

"The Circle will recover," Ayah insisted. "It is an enduring idea that cannot die."

Wynne frowned. "Once I would have agreed with you. Most of my life, I would have agreed with that and defended the Circle. I was proud to be a part of it, to help mold young minds. But, Surana, the things I have seen from the Chantry in the last ten years alone . . . They have shocked me. I am of an age where I can feel my mortality creeping closer with every dawn. I know the Circle is dying as surely as I am. Uldred's . . . Rebellion was its throes. When the final blow will come, I do not know, but it cannot be many years from now, I expect."

This surprised Ayah. Wynne had always been a staunch Aequitarian; she'd never known the woman to sound so cynical about the Chantry. She didn't get the chance for clarification from Wynne as Leliana came rushing out of the hall towards them. "Wynne, are you well?" The Orlesian rushed and her accent seemed to become more pronounced in her haste. "Aedan has asked for you to assess the Arl. It appears the demon was the one keeping Eamon from dying."

Wynne patted Ayah Surana's arm and passed back into the hall, leaving her alone in the empty courtyard that Ayah was just now beginning to notice was positively filled with corpses. She stared around the bodies, in various states of decay. Toward the middle of the yard she spied the corpse of the revenant - the young knight's body was mangled into mad angles that defied anatomical bone structure. There was no more blood in it left to drain; it laid in a long-dried pool of it. Somehow she had expected it to disappear when she left, but here lay the grisly reminder of the cost of Isolde's foolishness. Aedan's irritation with the woman made plain sense to her.

Eamon lay in a coma from which he would certainly not awake. Wynne, Ayah knew, was the prominent authority in the entire arcane collegiate outside of Tevinter on healing magic. She was also a talented herbalist, but perhaps not the authority; still, Ayah had never encountered any herb that would cure what Eamon had without knowing the exact origin of the poison. Leliana had suggested it was Crow poison, but since Jowan did not know what it was either (he hadn't questioned Loghain further, being justifiably terrified of the teryn turning him over to the templars), it was only a theory. From what little Ayah learned about the Crows fighting them and being trained by one, she did not know any more about poisons than any other herbalist. She suspected a woman such as Morrigan of the Wilds knew more, but she seemed reluctant and hostile on her good days and on her bad days she did not leave beast form.

The bottom line, once the sun had set, was that there was no chance that Arl Eamon would recover. The Arlessa had sent knights away from Redcliffe months prior (leaving the castle largely undefended and Aedan practically steaming when he heard about it) to search for the sacred ashes of Andraste in the hopes that they would cure the arl. The Bann almost went on a tirade on the spot about Isolde sending away knights for such a foolish endeavor - he managed to stop himself mid-rant, and Ayah found herself sympathizing with the man. Why anyone thought that a pile of ashes would be a panacea for illness was beyond Ayah. It certainly could not be worth jeopardizing Redcliffe's security in a crisis.

All in all, it had been a tense, trying day for everyone. Morrigan loudly lamented about how she'd had to listen to the Arlessa whine for days and left in the form of a bird with the promise of returning soon. Isolde did have a way of grating on one's nerves, but Ayah supposed that was due to the woman's piousness. Piety, she found, had a way of reducing the capacity for rational thought, and seemed to be a particular peeve of Morrigan's. Only someone who was mad would waste time during a civil war and Blight by traipsing through Ferelden looking for a pile of mythic dirt. After much private discussion, both Wardens seemed grim about their chances to end the civil war. Warden Cousland only managed to make one joke about it; Ayah had begun to understand that both Wardens' senses of humor were their primary behavioral defenses. Jokes fell flat on ears, however, as Redcliffe was in a very dour mood when news of the Arl's condition got out.

As the sun started falling below the horizon, Jowan elected to return to his cell under templar guard to await a decision. The man seemed defeated in demeanor, and even spoke in a resigned tone. There was not a single defiant bone in his spine; it too seemed to cave beneath an invisible weight. The maleficar had asked to speak to Ayah, for reasons she could not discern and he would not speak of in the hall. When she approached him in the dungeon, locked behind bars once more, there was a knowing in his eyes that baffled her.

He stared at her in silence for a while. She waited for him to speak first, for she was at a loss for words. "Do you remember me at all?" Jowan finally asked her quietly, fearfully.

Ayah shook her head. "I do not. I know you now, and must have known you, but I forget a lot of faces. Now, I will never forget yours again. I know you must remember me, and I'm sorry for that."

Jowan sighed. It was a bitter, rasping sound that didn't belong. He must have had a pallor other than sickly pale, once; he must have had eyes that weren't sunken in, hair that was groomed . . . A part of her felt like he didn't belong in that cage, but she rationalized that feeling by remembering he had asked specifically to be there. "I guess that was too much to hope for. I-I'm . . . I'm more sorry than you will ever know, that this happened to you. I-it's my fault. It's all my fault." He choked on the last word, and seemed to be close to tears.

She knew the feeling of grief from Cullen's face. It was a necessary feeling, but difficult for her to grasp, like trying to hold onto a writhing snake. She did not possess regrets, fears, or losses. Everything was transitory, even her. Why people felt this, why it moved them, why they cried . . . "Why are you sorry?" She asked, hoping to distract him from crying. She didn't want to witness his grief, as it would only remind her of her frustrating inability to relate to him.

Jowan shook his head. A tear escaped, and he wiped it away angrily. "I don't know. I-I thought maybe they did this to punish you for helping me."

A realization that Ayah was very grateful for finally washed over her. "You are referring to my Tranquility," she ascertained. "I understand. No, this was not your fault, Jowan. I asked to be made Tranquil."

The tears stopped and a strange expression crossed the emaciated mage's face. "Why would you ask for such a horrible thing?" He finally managed to ask, after a few seconds of spluttering for words.

She started to answer him, but the response she had prepared suddenly fled. The words died on her tongue. She touched the bars of the cell with her gloved hands and gave the bars an experimental tug. "For the same reason you asked to be put in here. I am better this way," she finally said, feeling out the response as she uttered it. "I would not have asked for this if I did not want it. I know that much. The reason, I think, has been lost like so many faces. I remembered a girl when I first saw you here, red-haired. I think her name was Lily. Who is she? Do you know, Jowan?"

Jowan went through a myriad of emotional responses in a few seconds. He was as fascinating for her to study as Cullen was. It seemed so many people connected to her past had become broken by it; it made her wonder if she, too, had been broken. She would not know if she had been, now. She didn't feel broken, at any rate. "She-she helped me. I might have loved her, I don't know," he whispered. "She wouldn't escape with me. I-I tried, but she was scared of me after what happened. I hoped that maybe you might know. She was a lay sister in the Chantry . . . Maybe she went back to that."

Ayah didn't know what to say, which was twice in the span of a few minutes that had happened to her. It was a rare occurrence. "I do not remember anyone named Lily in the Chantry, but I did not frequent it. The Chant is lovely poetry, but irksome when uttered continuously."

He laughed, or choked, she wasn't sure. A chuckle? "That sounds like something you might say. May I ask . . . Maybe . . . Maybe you don't remember, but, I . . ." He trailed off for a moment, and then stepped closer to the bars. She stepped closer too, since it seemed the polite thing to do. "What happened to ********* when I left?" He asked.

The sound Jowan did not make its way to her ears. It was not quite a silence, but a garbled noise that came from under water, or like a voice muffled by a gag. Ayah frowned and scratched behind her points. "I don't understand what you're saying."

Jowan's eyes widened in surprise, or anger. "What do you mean? He was the whole reason you stayed—I told you to come with us, but you wouldn't leave him! He-he's why I had to leave, why I couldn't let them do that to me. And then . . . And then they did it to you."

Ayah didn't understand what he meant. He wouldn't explain further, and his answers only sent her mind spinning. She couldn't make sense of the noise, and knew not the 'he' that Jowan spoke of. The only thought that came to mind was a distant memory warmth, of soft eyes the color of amber framed by dark lashes, of a child's laughter and a gap-toothed grin. Whenever she tried to focus on them, the memories slipped through her mind like sand.

[Do you have any idea how lonely it was?! If you had died, it would have been easier!] A distant and angry girl spat accusations at Ayah from the stony walls as she left Jowan in the dungeon under the careful watch of a templar named Ser Rowan, a wiry lass she vaguely recalled training in another life. Perhaps it was not the walls that talked to her, but some cruel trick of the mind - a summoned memory lacking context. When they had started, she wasn't sure, but ever since her training in Antiva they had dogged her. Ayah was no longer sure of anything now, except that she was certainly broken in some way and didn't know how or why.

Eamon was stabilized, thanks to Wynne, but would likely die slowly. A templar and mage remained behind as volunteers to tutor Connor and assist with the arl while the rest returned with Irving to the Tower. The Wardens decided to continue their plan to make contact with the Dalish in the Brecilian in the morning, knowing that Redcliffe was temporarily safe in Teagan's capable hands. Ayah was just glad the Bann had stopped doing flips and falling down stairs. She saw little hope for Redcliffe.

However, the Blight would not wait for them to fight it. It would march on, and so must they. She wondered, as she drifted off to sleep in a cot they'd set up in the main hall, if she would die soon. It seemed likely, given the Blight's magnificent ability to completely corrupt all life around it. Should they face darkspawn in battle, she knew the chances of her person becoming corrupted were high. Wardens had an immunity to the corruption of darkspawn, but the rest of them did not. It was likely they would all die soon, in battle, or of something worse.

She did not mind. Death is but a door. Ayah had known this truth before she began. Every step she took into the future she encountered more of the past. Her answers lay forward, toward her death. This was the way of things. She watched the wild witch as a raven fly past the window, becoming a black streak against the darkening orange sky, and remembered old words. Old dreams. An elven boy with hair like snow. Nothing really ends, da'len. We merely change form.