There was fire everywhere. It wasn't hot, but my skin screamed. The flames spewed and roared, and all I saw were the licking orange tongues. The urge to flail was strong, but I was pinned by a heavy weight. As I dragged at the floor with my hands the silhouette of a man entered my blurry vision.

I gasped, trying to move my head and shout. All I managed was a wheeze of air. It didn't matter; the man lurched closer, kneeling before me. I saw no visible features, just a shadow in the shape of a face as I was picked up like a rag doll. My head lolled over his arm, my limbs uselessly swinging from the momentum of his movements.

A distant roar, like a snarling animal, caught the man's attention. I was quickly shifted, thrown over a hard shoulder. Metal hitting metal rang in my ears. The fires surrounding us began to die and my consciousness faded with it.

oooooooooo

I knew I was still alive when I first realized I was dreaming. I had never had fever dreams before, but these couldn't be anything but. An old woman worked her hands over the air above my body, a glow tracing her movements. A young girl by her side was copying her, a similar glow following after her hands.

Demons visited me, shaped like my friends as they stood in a wasteland. They smiled sweetly, their eyes tinged in violet. A small body wrapped itself about my waist. I looked down and the face of my sister looked up. She grinned, wide and bright, the sclera of her eyes black and her irises shot with purple light.

I screamed and ran ran ran.

I ran all over the barren landscape, tripping over cracks of green, and they laughed behind me. Where ever I ran laughter always followed me, echoing louder and louder.

In my dreams I never tired, so I never stopped. Between the demons I saw the old woman, sometimes with the young girl, pouring the contents of a cup into my mouth.

My throat was too lax to choke on it and I was too hazy to catch the taste of the liquid.

When I truly woke I was alone. My eyes were fuzzy and my sight glazed. I blinked to clear the glaze and see my surroundings properly.

The material drooping over me looked like a tent, but the tarp beneath me felt leathery and so did the material being held up by... By wooden poles?

My body was heavy and slow from sleep, but my mind was racing. Where was I? I couldn't even remember what I had been doing before the flames and the man. He saved me?

I trembled as I tried to sit up, my arms uncooperative. All my energy was drained, as if by sickness. I certainly felt feverish.

I tried to stand and realized I wasn't wearing the shirt and jeans that I last thought I had worn. Instead I wore a thin shift. I curled my lip in distaste. Whatever, I wasn't in the position to be complaining.

I stumbled, and a short shriek escaped as I almost met the ground with my face. I caught myself on my hands, knees smarting in displeased agreement with my hands.

I cursed under my breath and tried to pull myself up again. I was slowly getting some strength back. What little strength that was didn't help when the flap opened.

It hadn't been a fast swoop or anything, but I was not prepared to see another person yet. I screeched, falling back, heart leaping out of my throat.

The old woman, the one I vaguely remembered tending to me with glowing hands, smiled crookedly. "I didn't realize I was so frightening," she murmured, stepping further into the tent.

She let the flap drop and shifted towards me, holding out her hand. I took it hesitantly, my hold flimsy compared to hers. It was mostly her work that had me back on my feet, legs wobbling like some newborn fawn.

"You are doing much better, to be walking so soon," she told me, tucking my arm in hers as she lead me outside.

"Was I sick? Who are you?" I asked, my voice cottony. I swallowed thickly, embarrassed.

We stepped outside, and trees were everywhere. Huge monsters of trees, ones I had only ever seen in pictures. They blotted out the sky above us, and what light reached the forest floor was dim. The cool air soothed the heat of my skin, if only by a bare minimum. "Where am I?" I squeaked. There was nowhere even remotely like this close to home. Or even the same state.

"I am Keeper Marethari, you are in the Brecilian Forest, and you are sick with the taint," Marethari answered gently while I gawked.

"Taint, what taint?" I had never heard of such a sickness. I pulled my eyes from the trees and gave the old woman my full attention.

"The taint of the darkspawn. A Grey Warden found you in the ruins two of my hunters had discovered. He should return shortly; he left two days ago to destroy the cause of the taint."

That still didn't sound like any sickness-... What? My mind blanked as I registered "darkspawn." I rewound my memories and stopped at "Keeper Marethari" and "Grey Warden."

What? The fuck? Was this some elaborate joke? Was I still dreaming?

No. No nono that's not- No.

Haha, funny, really funny- No.

This isn't... It can't be.

I stared at the people around me. They were all somber, and... Their ears. They were pointed. Now that I was looking, everyone around me had ears that pointed out from under their hair, tips clearly tapered. I tried hard not to stare anymore, forcing my eyes to the trees again. Trees were neutral.

"Wh-When is the Grey Warden getting back?" I asked, carefully avoiding the name I knew. And I knew all their names. How could I not, I was only in Dragon fucking Age, Ferelden. How did I even get here? This was the worst time to ever come to Thedas! Was there ever a good time to come to Thedas?

When I turned to the keeper, Marethari had her brows raised at me. Had I been too quiet? Made strange faces? "Calm your breath, shemlen," she murmured, placing a hand on my arm. Ah, so that was it. I could feel the rawness of my throat as I realized just how fast I had been breathing. The chill of the air was no longer comforting, instead becoming needles in my trachea.

Marethari helped me to a little bench and I sat down, going through breathing exercises I hadn't used since high school band. Calm, four beats in, hold, four beats out.

Once I didn't appear to be breaking down any more, the older woman spoke again. "He should get back later today. Can you eat?" She asked, pulling a cloak over my shaking shoulders. I clutched it, tugging it tight around me. Was I going into shock? I had better not be, I already had the fucking taint. Somewhere in my head I was laughing at how bad my luck was.

"I don't think so," I answered. My voice was pathetically weak. What was I, an adult or a lost child? I felt like a lost child right now.

The elf woman tsked. "You need your strength. I will get soup. It is light enough to keep from turning your stomach," she said, bustling off. She was just trying to keep busy, I knew what she was doing. I could remember the timeline of the elven origin easily. The Dalish origin had been my favorite.

They had just lost Tamlen, and they all knew it. The only thing they were waiting for was Mahariel's return to herald the destruction of the mirror that had given us the taint.

Then Mahariel was going to be taken from them too. I wondered why I wasn't getting more rude or angry stares, as a human. In such a time, it would be so easy to lay the blame on me. I had come from the cursed mirror that had stolen and weakened two of their hunters.

I watched them, everyone packing something, getting ready to move. Every now and then, someone did glance at me, eyes sharp with grief and rage. I wasn't as exempt from blame as I thought, only sheltered from it. Marethari's doing, no doubt.

It was likely she had them busy getting ready to move on. Who wanted to be near a coming Blight or human villagers preparing to go after them? It was a comfort to know they would be safe over the next year once they left Fereldan.

I sighed and rubbed my head, trying to make sense of this all. How did I get here anyway? I couldn't be dreaming, everything was too real, but why could I not recall anything past the flames? And what the hell were the flames from? I couldn't recall flames from the elf warden's origin. Hadn't he been found in the forest once he fled the ruins? I knew I had been surrounded by them, but, looking over my hands, I wasn't burned or scarred.

Magic flames? Damn it, magic was real here too. Which was worse, the taint or magic? One had most likely brought me here and the other was killing me. If Duncan thinks I'm capable (which I highly doubt), I was either going to choke on the ritual blood and die, or I was going to become a Grey Warden. I don't know how to fight! Any way I went was going to lead to certain death. Not even Mahariel's life was assured in the end.

If his, or her, life was uncertain, then how could mine be anything but as well? What if my presence was detrimental? It couldn't possibly be helpful. All I knew was lore, because anything about the future couldn't be counted as reliable anymore. I was more than just a ripple in the pond... Unless I died, and it would be so easy for me to die.

If this was a dream, would I wake when I died?

It was only the off chance that this was real that kept me from looking for a dagger.