The Anvil of the Void… I'll never be certain that we did the right thing with that wondrous invention, but it is perhaps secondary to learning that which I have suspected for a long time: that Alistair is more than capable of leading. The fact that he confirmed it by defying me is concrete proof that he can make the bold and difficult decisions required to be a successful ruler of men.

Oh, but what might have been! I wanted the anvil for my own purposes, of course. Who knows what may have been possible with such a powerful construct?

And again… souls. Before I became a Warden I wasn't even sure that souls existed and now… they seem to be more important than I'd ever imagined.

I can't help but wonder what new methods I might have invented with access to Branka's creation…

But it does not matter now. Alistair made his choice, and it is likely the correct one, politically speaking. He will have to become a deft politician in his new role…

We should reach the Legion's camp soon. Our stops are short as everyone is eager to quit the Deep Roads. All that remains is to convince the Aeducan heir to take the crown. I can't foresee a reason for his refusal. He must want revenge after being cast out into the Deep Roads by his traitorous brother.

Solona has been pleading with me to recruit one of the Legion to our cause. "They are already dead—to everyone else and in their own minds, Elissa," she hisses at me whenever the subject comes up. I believe my reluctance has exasperated her. But I find my resolve dwindling, and my hope that one of their member will step forward and accept this burden…

But, it is foolhardy to raise my hopes. If none shall step forward, that'll be the end of it. I'll not coerce someone into drinking from the cup. As I told Solona, how can we trust someone who we forced to become a Warden? But a volunteer…

Still, best not to dwell on it. It may all come to naught.

Elissa finished writing, set down her quill, and began reading from her notes. "So we've covered the Joining recipes and risks, darkspawn reproduction methods, ghouls, immunity to blight sickness, ability to sense darkspawn and other wardens, intense nightmares, intense hunger, increased stamina, and shortened lifespan." She looked up from her notes to peer at him. "So far nothing you have said is anything about which Solona hasn't already informed me."

"Right. Well, there's another thing." Alistair shifted in the high-back cushioned chair. He'd been sitting for some time, but it hadn't felt uncomfotable until now. "Decreased fertility."

Elissa folded her hands atop the large, mahogany desk. "Of both sexes?"

"Yes."

That, at least, surprised her. She stared at him for the span of a few heartbeats. "Is this common knowledge?"

"No, not really. I mean, everybody knew it back before… uh, before Ostagar. But I don't think the public has any idea. I wasn't sure if Solona knew but… I guess not."

"I see. The fact that you've provided me with this sensitive information speaks to how much you must trust Elissa."

He'd taken that fact to be, to use one of Elissa's favorite words, obvious. It made him wonder what the others had said about him. But, that was silly. Elissa wouldn't take anyone's word for anything. She'd want to observe him herself. "Yes," he said, clearing his throat and meeting her gaze. "Of course."

He could detect the calculations going on behind her eyes. "Well, you needn't worry. I won't tell anyone."

She hadn't stopped studying him, and he was acutely aware that his minute movements and expression were under constant examination. He took a breath, before answering, proud of how steady his tone remained. "Thank you."

He was doing well—he could read that much in her face. There was a hint of admiration for his confident answers, and her approval filled him with a familiar pleasure. How he'd missed that warmth in her absence.

"So," she said, and the look in her eye brought his wariness back. "I imagine this fact has… implications… for the future of your romance with Elissa."

He wasn't a bit surprised that she'd figured out (or someone had told her) the nature of their relationship, of course, but her matter-of-fact delivery of the crux of their issues was a bit jarring. "Yes," he said simply.

"Let me guess…" Her eyes scanned the desk until she plucked a scroll from a pile of papers. She unrolled it, and tilted it toward the lantern sitting on the desk so she could read from it. She looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "This issue forms the basis for the 'quarrel' referenced in this note?"

So they were really talking about this? Great. He figured it would come up, of course, but… he didn't exactly know what to say. "Yes."

The contrast of his short answers with the lengthy and candid ones he'd provided previously no doubt tipped her off that there was something substantial going on here. Her eyes narrowed. "And you didn't tell Elissa about this until recently."

He knew he should probably elaborate, but why bother? She had made the connections, or was just about to. "Yes."

"Interesting that she says in the note that she was the one in the wrong, and not you." She looked away, clearly thinking.

The shadows cast by the flickering torchlight made strange patterns on the walls. He stared at them in silence, wishing he could think of a way to distract her from this line of questioning, but knowing it was futile.

"She knew already didn't she?"

It was impossible not to think of Elissa's face, horrified and angry. You knew? "Yes."

Elissa made a humming noise, and drummed her fingers on the desk, seemingly unaware of the emotional state her questions had put him in. "Let me guess, an interruption in her menses would have triggered an examination, probably by Wynne."

"I… yeah, probably."

She pushed away from the desk and stood, pacing toward the bookshelves that lined the wall behind the desk. Clasping her hands behind her back, she addressed the books in a thoughtful tone. "So, she found out she couldn't have children, but since you'd never told her otherwise, she didn't realize all Wardens are affected, and not just herself. What would make her think it was just her?"

Alistair could have answered, of course, but he decided right then that he wouldn't deny her this. If he couldn't provide her an ample explanation, the next best thing would be to let her deduce one herself, instead.

She turned to him a moment later, face bright with the light of intuition. "It was after she took the potion from Avernus, wasn't it? That's why she thought it was only herself that was affected. A reasonable deduction, albeit an incorrect one." She shook her head, and walked back to the desk. "She might've learned the truth, if she'd been honest with you. But instead, she kept it secret."

His head snapped up at that. "What? No… I mean… I guess, but… that's not… I should have told her."

Elissa came around the desk to stand in front of him. She crossed her arms at her chest. "And she shouldn't have told you?"

"I mean… maybe. But, I knew and I kept it from her. I… I didn't mean to, really, I just… I could never seem to find the right time to bring it up."

"But now you've got all the Warden treaties, and Eamon wants you to take the throne, so your fertility is more important than ever, isn't it?"

Her rendition of his plight was breathless and excited. And her proximity was distracting. She was wearing perfume-another oddity. "Yes."

"She should have felt at least some relief then, that this wasn't her fault."

"I… I don't know."

"But instead, when you told Elissa this fact that she already knew, it inspired an argument after which she left you in the middle of the night to pursue this favor for Morrigan. Why do you think she was so upset?"

"Well," Alistair said, his throat feeling thick. He'd had a bit of time to obsess over this. "I think, you know… it was, um… painful. To acknowledge. Openly and all…"

"Perhaps…" Elissa interrupted, staring with an unfocused gaze at something over his head. "Perhaps she'd never intended for you to find out, and once she discovered that you already knew, she realized how unlikely it would be that you would make her your Queen once you ascended the throne."

"No, I don't think… she never… I wouldn't…" He gave a noisy sigh, annoyed with himself for not offering a better defense of Elissa. To Elissa. That made his head hurt. "You know, it's you, not her. You're not a different person, even if you can't remember it. You're still Elissa."

Elissa frowned and looked away. "So everyone keeps telling me."

She didn't deny it anymore, at least. "Well, it's the truth."

"You loved her."

It might not have been phrased as a question, but Alistair heard the query in her voice, part curious, part… something else. Another moment passed, and in spite of his best efforts, he couldn't hide the longing in his voice. "Yes."

Whatever other emotion at war with her curiosity had fled the field. She turned back to him, and it stung to see how she studied him. He felt like a butterfly in a case, pinned by her gaze. "Do you still?"

He didn't break eye contact, and made no attempt to mask his emotions as he gazed into her wide, perceptive eyes. "Yes."

She looked at each of his eyes in turn, before saying softly, "And yet when I look at you… I only see a stranger. I feel absolutely nothing."

He couldn't keep from flinching at that, and looked away. Her tone had been one of scientific fascination. Neutral. Cold. For a moment, he wondered if she'd been playing him, but when he looked back at her, her expression looked guilty.

"I'm sorry. This… can't be easy for you, seeing me this way with all this unfinished business between you and her… myself. My questions must seem terribly insensitive."

Alistair blinked. He couldn't remember Elissa ever catching on to her insensitivity before. Perhaps, she wasn't exactly the same as she had been. "No, it's… fine. I mean, yes, it's a little awkward but… I'm just happy you're alive."

"Yes, in a manner of speaking."

"Come again?"

"Well," she began with an apologetic smile. "In a way, whoever destroyed Elissa's memories killed her. Her memories, her experiences… whoever this person Elissa was to you… she's gone now. Whether that was their intention or not."

He knew she was right on some level—wasn't he grieving something lost, anyway? Still, there was hope. "Only if you don't get them back," he said. "Which is why—"

"I should acquiesce to being examined by Wynne."

"Yes. Please. You know we're who we say we are, by now. Just let Wynne look at you."

She was back to studying him, and he hadn't the will left to try to mask his desperation. Whether that was the deciding factor, or some other reason, he wasn't sure, but he sighed audibly in relief when at last she gave a crisp nod. "Alright."

He got up to leave, and she returned to the other side of the desk. "Alistair… thank you for your candidness. It is appreciated."

The look she gave him soothed his injured heart a little. "Sure."

"One more thing before you go. Someone…" she looked through the papers until she found one. "Wynne, actually… mentioned that Elissa kept a journal. Did she leave it with you?"

"No, I think you took it with you."

"I found no journal in my possession. Don't you think that's rather suspicious?"

His relief vanished, replaced by a gnawing fear. He couldn't think of anything at all to say to that.

I should have known better to let hope kindle inside of me. It was all for naught. I cannot escape this fate, and I am a fool to try.

But I am ahead of myself. My emotions have taken over my thinking in many ways of late, not the least of which is my inability to put into words what has transpired. And yet, it seems important to record, if not for others, at least for myself. To make some sense of it...

As I stated in my last journal entry, we were all eager to quit the Deep Roads and return to Orzammar after confronting Branka and destroying the anvil. I'd learned another secret that I wish I could forget on our journey there—mainly that Darkspawn reproduce by a process that involves defiling and corrupting females of any intelligent race until they turn into enormous, monstrous creatures: Broodmothers. Branka knew this, and let her whole family be taken for this purpose, in spite of it. A cold one, she is. Or was. Her own lover, Hespith, was captured and turned into a ghoul…

Dwelling on this truth too long makes me nauseated. I cannot help but recall the hurlock who attempted to capture me back in the Korcari Wilds. No doubt it intended to deliver me to that same fate. I questioned Alistair about this after, but I feel certain he was ignorant of this phenomenon, and could not speak as to whether Duncan knew of such a thing. If such knowledge is widely known in the Grey Warden leadership, I must question the wisdom of recruiting female Wardens… unless perhaps our immunity would interfere with the process? In any case, it is not a fate I need fear any longer. I'll be dead long before a Calling summons me back to the Deep Road. Thank the Maker for small mercies.

So it was with heavy hearts and troubled minds that we met up with the Legion again on our way back to the city. The Aeducan heir surprised me. He refused to accept the crown Caridan had carved for us. I still don't understand his reasoning—having the blessing of one of their most cherished paragons should have been all that would be required for him to assume the throne. But he looked at it as if it were a noose, rather than a lifeline. I don't understand why he'd rather die in the Deep Roads than return to his people, but I couldn't persuade him. "A topsider cannot return to me what was taken. I'll die with the Legion, as I promised."

It was an honorable enough position. And I suppose I'd be a hypocrite to criticize him for it. Yet, it put me in a foul mood, as I was not overly pleased with either of the alternatives I would now be forced to choose between. Harrowmont seems decent enough, but his adherence to tradition strikes me as myopic and backwards-thinking. Whereas Bhelen's ideas seem to have the betterment of his people in mind, his methods are that of a snake…

In any case, at the time there was another more pressing issue than that of royal succession. Solona brought me another dwarf who was eager to join the Wardens. When I asked him why, he had a colorful response. "My name meant shit before the Legion and it'll still mean shit after I die down here. This way. Who knows? Maybe I take out the big dragon and suddenly everyone likes the name Brosca."

Solona's eyes had practically bulged out of her head at that, and I knew what the look she shot me meant—all we'd have to do was recruit this dwarf, and we had someone else who could make the ultimate… well.

Once again, I cursed the fact that Solona had managed to acquire such knowledge. It was better when I was the only one who knew, and when I could determine what would happen without input from anyone else. I'd already told Solona that the burden was mine, but she had refused to accept that, saying that if another solution presented itself we ought to take it. I agreed to pacify her. She had acquiesced to my demand to keep the matter secret, so it seemed scrupulous to bend a bit in return. But, I hadn't really intended to follow through with it, until now…

She was right. Brosca seemed a fine candidate, and a willing one, but something held me back, even then. I suppose a part of me felt that having accepted the burden already, it was dishonorable to attempt to slough it off onto someone else. I still feel that way, more than ever now, in fact…

But again, I am getting ahead of myself. "Our ritual of initiation is very dangerous," I told Brosca, looking him over. He seemed as stocky and muscled as most dwarves. "I estimate your chances of dying to be around forty percent."

He peered up at me with a thoughtful frown. "You topsiders… you have something called… seasons, right?"

I nodded.

"Which one is it now?"

"Winter," I replied.

"Which one is that?"

"The one with the snow."

His squarish face softened, and then he nodded to himself. "Good enough."

I wanted to come up with some objection, but in truth I had none I could reasonably make to a man facing death so nonchalantly. Very well, I told him, and allowed him to join our number. I informed him that he'd have to kill a darkspawn on our way to the surface as part of the initiation, though of course that hardly daunted him, as he'd killed droves of them already.

So we made our way to the surface, with an additional companion rounding out our numbers. Alistair seemed overjoyed at the prospect of having another male companion around. I suppose it was a comfort to talk to a masculine person who wasn't always drunk, or silently glowering or… Zevran. Alistair and Faren hit it off straight away, and spent a good portion of our trip back chatting amiably.

I did not want to explain the presence of a dead dwarf if the ritual ended in his death, so we postponed the Joining until after we quit the city. In retrospect, I'm not certain that was better or worse…

We returned to the Assembly with the crown, and I must admit I wavered until the last moment before deciding to choose Harrowmont. I know Solona and perhaps a few of the others disagreed, but I couldn't in good conscience hand the throne over to someone with so little integrity as Bhelen. Whether I made the right decision remains to be seen. It strains credulity that I—a topsider—was even tasked with making this choice. I did the best that I could.

I find myself stalling… I've been sitting here with my quill poised above the page for some time, wondering how to go forward. But there's nothing to do but forge ahead.

We left Orzammar in the morning, and walked most of the day before striking up camp that evening. We were still high in the mountains, of course, but we'd at least managed to find a spot with little snow and fresh water nearby. After we set up camp and had dinner as a group, the four of us—Alistair, Solona, myself and Faren—went off by ourselves to perform the Joining. The separation and secrecy have their place, I suppose, in impressing recruits with the seriousness of the occasion, and emphasizes that our secrets must remain so.

I am being overly verbose in an attempt to delay writing the inevitable, aren't I?

I said the words for a second time… and for a second time, I watched as the recruit before me lifted up our makeshift Joining cup and drank… and fell over in a heap, unconscious, but alive.

Oh, how relieved and overjoyed we all were. I was certain for some reason that he would not survive the Joining.

Well, I was right about that, in a manner of speaking, but at that moment all seemed well. He'd passed out, as it seems we all do, and then slept soundly, soon to be awakened, we knew, with horridly realistic dreams of Darkspawn.

It was late by the time we returned to camp. Alistair carried the sleeping dwarf, and set him down on a bedroll near the fire before we retired to our tent. I set no watch for the evening, as they had become unnecessary once the golem joined our numbers, but Solona volunteered to remain near Brosca while he slept, so that she might greet him and welcome him to his new life when he awoke.

It was difficult to sleep after all that excitement. I was filled with joy and that most dangerous of emotions—hope. For the first time in months, I could see a future where before I could only see an endless dark… Of course, we were heading to Redcliffe next, and facing Eamon and the issue of our own nation's leadership held it's own set of questions that needed to be answered, but for once, it felt like a future I might live to see, rather than something I was building only for Alistair.

I should have known better. I do know better. After I finally fell asleep wrapped in Alistair's arms, a scream shattered the illusions of the Fade and slapped me back into wakefulness. Alistair was up and moving by the time I realized it was Solona who had screamed. I followed him as quickly as I could after, grabbing my crossbow as I exited the tent. I didn't sense any Darkspawn, but I wouldn't have expected anyone to be able to catch our party unawares, as Shale was always watching while we slept. At first I wondered if the creature, still upset by my reluctance to destroy the anvil, had simply let our ambushers attack us without raising an alarm in a spiteful act of revenge.

But as soon as I cleared the tent, I realized that the attack had not come from without… it had come from within. Solona lay on the ground with Brosca sitting on top of her, his meaty hands wrapped around her neck as she struggled to free herself. I was too stupefied by the shocking betrayal to act for a few moments. Alistair had no such hesitancy, however, and immediately leapt into action, slamming into the dwarf bodily and knocking him off Solona. As the two men rolled away from the fire, I regained my senses and ran to her. "What happened?"

Solona couldn't talk, and only answered me with coughing. I heard a sickening crunch, and looked up to see Alistair panting on the ground… it took me a few seconds to notice the blood spattered rock and Brosca's still form lying beside him, a darkening stain creeping into the dirt under his head. "You killed him?" I gasped.

Alistair nodded. At my stricken expression, he explained, "He wasn't himself any longer. He was a ghoul."

My inspection of the body confirmed Alistair's pronouncement. Something had gone wrong with his Joining, we realized, and instead of waking as a Warden, he had turned into a monster.

"Most ghouls aren't that aggressive," I'd said, and Solona and Alistair hadn't known what to say to that. I gulped, and said what I knew they both must have been thinking. "It's my blood in the Joining… it did something to him. Instead of just killing him it… turned him into that."

To their credit, neither Alistair or Solona tried to convince me this wasn't my fault. Alistair simply draped an arm around my shoulders and hugged me to him, while Solona continued to stare at the body of the dead dwarf.

"That's it," I said. "We're not using my blood in the Joining ever again."

"That's fine," Alsitair murmured, but it wasn't his reaction I was anxious to see. I stared at Solona until she met my gaze. I could see when my point had been comprehended, and she nodded.

I left it at that. Solona probably thinks she can still convince me to recruit someone else, using the conventional Joining recipe. I haven't told her yet that I won't, but… I won't. I… cannot quite explain this… certainty… but I know without knowing exactly how I know that… it is my duty alone to do what must be done to end this Blight.

And there's nothing I can do that will change that.