Note: Welcome back! This is the second in the 'War of the Old Ones' Series—I recommend reading 'Chances' before this, else it might not make a lot of sense.

Elements from Final Fantasy 13: Lightning Returns make way here (yeah sorry for totally misleading you with the first fic, oops, but I had to get the backstory down!). Again, I am twisting the Dragon Age lore to make it fit, so don't expect accuracy. Also I don't really get into detail about the in-depth lore, so if I gloss over it, it's on purpose.

Four years have passed since the ending of 'Chances'. Which, if you've been adding up the years, means that we are now about to reach the start of Dragon Age: Inquisition…

It was a freezing night, and Yara shivered. She sat by the window of their tiny house, watching the rime sparkle in the moonlight. It was certainly pretty, but it also meant she could barely see through the frosted panes. That set her nerves on edge, and she drew her arms around herself. She'd felt suspicious eyes on them all day, and she worried their current residence would soon no longer be safe.

She sighed, her breath forming smoky wisps, and glanced back to their room. Bethany was asleep on the bed, curled under the furs and blankets. Though she was peaceful now, Yara still noted the tension across her brow. Remains of the darkspawn nightmares, taunting her of the life they'd left behind. It might not have been a perfect existence, but it was a damn sight better than how they were now.

Yara turned back to the window, wiping away the frost. The cold numbed her fingers, mirroring the emptiness she felt within. Bethany had chosen to come with her, her loyalty never wavering, but that didn't stop Yara's guilt. Over the last four years, the two of them had been through so much, and they were so very, very tired. They could never stay in the same place for long, and each day was a constant struggle. Always they had to be vigilant, ready to depart at a moments' notice. Never knowing if they would have a roof over their heads, or enough food and coin to last until it was safe again.

But it was more than simple comforts Yara missed. The playful banter with the other Grey Wardens, the camaraderie of shared missions, the sense of having a duty, a purpose; all of it she had thrown away, to chase the shadows of her forgotten past. Her only lead had been the raven-haired apostate, and still she was no closer to finding her. Many, many times she'd wanted to give in, to return to Amaranthine and end this fruitless search. To see Nathaniel and Alistair again, to forget that night in Kirkwall had ever happened.

But nothing could shake the words she'd heard in the burning city, nor the reality of those who pursued her. She stood accused of murdering Ferelden's Hero, and she had no way of defending herself from the charge. And, as Hawke had warned, the Divine's Left Hand had been ruthless. She'd spared no quarter in the hope of capturing Yara, desperate to avenge the Hero. No matter where Yara and Bethany hid—Ferelden, Orlais, even the borders of Nevarra—she always found them. It might've taken a few weeks, or even months, but so far her record had been immaculate.

For all her successes, however, Yara took pride in being able to slip through the Left Hand's fingers. That had less to do with the Left Hand's skill, however, and more because a rogue Warden wasn't her only concern. After the destruction of Kirkwall, it had not taken long for the spark to ignite southern Thedas. The Circles had revolted, sick of their tightening leash, and the Templars had turned on their masters, too. Now both sides clashed in war, bloody and unforgiving, while the world trembled, begging for the Chantry to restore peace. A task that would've completely pre-occupied the Left Hand, were it not for her obsession with Yara.

A twitch of movement caught Yara's eye. She pressed her nose to the glass, holding her breath. The village was quiet, and then she spotted the stray cat. It pranced through the snow, black fur shining, before tucking itself beneath the house opposite.

The tension dropped, and Yara closed her eyes. They'd not been in this village for long, but it had proven peaceful. It sat a few miles from Jader, and consisted of sheep and cotton farmers. Bethany had offered her services as a healer, and they had welcomed her in time for the bitter winter. Of course, Yara had had to earn her keep as well, though she'd not taken much to mending shirts and tunics. She rubbed the nicks on her fingers, secretly wishing the people had more need of a warrior than a tailor.

Still, even with the villagers' blessings, every movement had to be planned, calculated. Their supplies came from Jader, and that required disguises. Bethany did most of the face-to-face work, able to slightly alter her appearance with magic, but Yara wasn't content to just skulk in the shadows. Despite their fugitive lifestyle, she'd still managed to peruse a few libraries and rare collections, gathering knowledge about the Hero of Ferelden's death, and if there was any other way to restore her memories.

Yet on both fronts, she'd made little progress. Every account was the same; Elissa Cousland had perished facing the Archdemon, and even Alistair's witness account of the circumstances said no different. A memorial had been erected for her in Redcliffe, but it was unclear whether the Hero had a true grave site. Portraits of her were also widespread, showing off the hazel eyes and dark brown hair that had become renowned. So unlike Yara's own green eyes and midnight black locks.

As for recovering her memories, the techniques were so complex and dangerous, it was still easier to look for the apostate. But how much further they could continue, Yara wasn't sure. And if there was one thing that scared her…

A boom like a peal of thunder roared outside. Yara jumped, snapping her head towards the noise. For a moment there was only silent darkness, when flickering lights appeared. Another bang, and the light grew brighter, melting the frost. Yara's eyes narrowed. The orange glow wasn't torchlight.

She rushed to Bethany and shook her. Bethany grumbled, rolling aside. The mage had been on watch the previous night, and the lack of sleep had taken its toll.

"Beth, get up," Yara said, tossing the furs aside.

Bethany fended Yara off, snatching back the furs. Dark circles hung beneath her eyes, and she grimaced.

"Ugh, what now?"

"The village is under attack," Yara said simply. "We have to leave."

Bethany's eyes widened. She threw the furs to the bed, and shoved on her boots. As usual, she was already fully dressed, ready for a quick escape. Yara grabbed her pack and weapons, and within minutes they were out in the icy air. A routine they'd become far too used to.

Now they were outside, Yara caught yells from the north. She made to walk the opposite way, but Bethany didn't follow. Her gaze was fixed on the fires and the glisten of raw mana.

"We're not leaving." She drew her staff, and let her pack fall to the snow. "Not when the villagers can't defend themselves, when they took us in for nothing. I can handle a bunch of idiotic rebels."

"Beth…" Yara couldn't finish her sentence; Bethany was already storming towards the commotion. She waved her hand, and the spreading flames died instantly. Her magic had become unbelievably powerful, and even Yara was a little afraid of what she was capable of. Nonetheless, Yara followed in the mage's footprints. She knew better than to try and dissuade her. Besides, so long as the Left Hand's scouts kept away, it was only fair they protected the villagers who'd been so kind to them.

They approached the end of the village. One of the barns had burned down, and a farmer and his family were being attacked. There were four rebel mages, their arms and faces smeared with blood markings. They were trying to reach the child, while her parents fought to protect her. Yara's eyes filled with venom. She drew her sword.

"You there," Bethany called out, "stop this at once!"

One of the mages looked up, as did the farmer. It gave the mage the chance he needed. He snatched the girl, then held a knife at her throat. The girl screamed, white with terror.

"Stay out of this!" he spat.

"Wait, she's one of us!" his companion said.

"Don't you dare bring me down to your level," Bethany hissed. "Release the girl, now!"

"Or what?" the first mage sneered.

"Careful, Jared, she might heal us into submission!" mocked his companion.

"Take your best shot, hot stuff!" another challenged. "I'll even keep still for you!"

A dangerous smile crossed Bethany's lips. Jared's grin faltered, and his jaw hung slack as she raised her staff. The air became thick and heavy, and the mages stumbled, the ground rumbling. Yara didn't wait. She bolted forward and punched the mage holding the girl. He cried out, and Yara scooped the child into her arms. Once she was clear, Bethany thrust her staff downward, and the mages slammed into the frozen earth.

Bethany swept her staff in an arc, and the mages went flying. They hit the ground again, and a sickening crunch revealed one had broken his leg. Her eyes narrowed, Bethany made a slow walk forward. She let her staff catch light, the flames licking across the wood. The mages screamed, struggling to free themselves, but still they were pinned to the floor.

"N-No, please, enough!" Jared begged.

"Aw, but I'm just getting started," Bethany said, resting a hand on her hip. "What was that you called me? Hot stuff?" The flames on her staff became more intense. Jared bawled.

"We give up!" he shrieked. "We'll leave, we won't come back. We swear it!"

"Is that a promise?" Bethany asked casually.

"Y-Yes!" Jared howled. "Now let us go!"

Bethany sighed. She clenched her fist, and the force spell dissipated. The trembling mages scrambled, helping their injured comrade limp down the main path. Bethany didn't break her gaze, watching until they had disappeared.

Yara walked over to the shaken farmer and his wife. The little girl clung to her, her tiny arms trembling. Her mother took her gratefully, as the child sobbed.

"Maker bless you both!" she breathed. "Hush Layla, you're safe now."

"I had no idea you were so much more than just a healer," the farmer admitted. He removed his cloak, and draped it around his daughter. "But thank you all the same."

"What did they want?" Yara asked.

"They wanted Layla for some reason," the farmer's wife said, cradling her daughter to her chest. "They snuck in and stole her from her bed. If Eric hadn't heard them…"

"One of them was muttering about some ritual," the farmer Eric added. "Can't imagine what nightmare they had planned."

Bethany gasped.

"That means they're only going to try again." Her eyes narrowed. "If not here, then some other village."

Yara sighed. "So we're going to track them down and stop them, right?"

Bethany turned to her, her jaw tight. "You saw what they just did!" Her gaze fell slightly. "I…I know we're not supposed to draw attention, but…"

"Beth, it's okay." Yara held her shoulder. "Probably time we moved on, anyway."

"You're going to leave us?" Eric asked. "Maker, please reconsider! If the mage-Templar war has come to our doorstep, we're not trained to face such a threat!"

"I'm sorry," Yara said. "But we'll try and make sure this won't happen again."

Eric sighed. "I guess we'll have to take that." He took Yara's hand. "Thank you, for saving my daughter. Should you ever need a place to stay again, please keep us in your thoughts. Maker guide your steps."

Yara nodded. She bowed, before heading back to their quarters. Bethany trudged behind, her head downcast.

"Sorry," the mage mumbled. "I didn't realise. I wasn't thinking of…"

"I don't think we'd be staying much longer, anyway," Yara interrupted. "That last merchant caravan kept his eye on us a bit too closely."

Bethany sighed, wondering if Yara was only trying to make her feel better.

"I just hate how the rebel mages act like they can do whatever they want," she said. "I never agreed with the principle of the Circle, but this is making me reconsider." She shook her head. "We're not all power-hungry and dangerous."

"I know," Yara answered. "Don't worry. We'll teach those fools a lesson they won't soon forget."

The rebels' trail proved easy to follow, and soon Yara and Bethany were crouched behind a rocky outcrop. The mages had taken shelter in front of a cave, but at present their camp was empty. The fire had gone out, their tents and packs untouched. A dim glow emanated from the cavern entrance, and Yara's stomach tightened. Something wasn't right.

"They must be hiding inside," Bethany said.

"Looks like," Yara answered. "I'll check it out."

She left their hiding place, examining the camp. There was something strange about the dead embers, and Yara scowled. That scent of rot and ash, coupled with something she hoped was burnt meat…

Before she'd let the thought go further, she stepped to the mouth of the cave. Torches were plastered to the walls, illuminating the passage. Again the smell made her wretch, and she swallowed back the foul taste in her throat. Holding her breath, she took a step inside. Faint voices came ahead, and she beckoned to Bethany.

Together they made their way into the depths, the odour worsening. Yara felt saliva pool in her mouth, and she gulped. Surely it wasn't just the smell making her so nauseous. Even Bethany's face crumpled, and she held her hand to her lips.

"Maker, this isn't what I think it is?" Her brow creased. "Come on!"

They took longer strides, the cavern walls narrowing. Yara swallowed, uncomfortable with the tight space. Then the voices became clear. As they turned the corner, Yara caught her breath. The mages were gathered in a large chamber. They knelt before a tall woman dressed in dirty Circle robes. An elegant dagger sat at her hip.

"Worthless fools, all of you!" she snapped. The mages cowered. "You can't even steal a child away in the dead of night?"

"We were attacked by their healer!" Jared protested. "She knew force magic, and…"

"I do not want to hear your insipid excuses!" The woman drew her dagger. "The ritual can only be completed at a full moon, and I cannot wait another cycle! The Templars must pay!" She grabbed the collar of the injured mage. "A child would've been better, but since this is all I have been offered, so be it!"

She sliced the mage's throat, silencing the cry that escaped his lips. The other mages yelped, trying to flee. The woman laughed, letting her victim's blood soak into her hands. Her body took on a crimson aura, as did her eyes. She discarded his broken body, turning her attention to her remaining lackeys. Drawing on her newfound power, blackened tendrils sprouted from her palm. They snared the mages, who shrieked and kicked, desperate to break free.

"Now you shall see what true power is!" the woman cackled. She flexed her fingers. Jared screamed, the tendrils piercing his skin. Blood poured from his wounds, feeding into the woman and making her moan.

"Maker, we have to stop this!" Bethany looked to Yara. "Can you keep her attention for me?"

"Of course," Yara said.

"Don't get too close to her," Bethany warned. "Any blood is fair game to her now. Be careful."

Yara nodded. She drew her blades, comforted by their weight, then rushed into the open.

"What?" The woman turned, her eyes glazed. "Oh, an intruder?" She licked her lips, chuckling. "What excellent timing. You will be the perfect subject to test my strength!"

She flung out her arm, and a lance of energy shot out. Yara rolled aside, showered with broken stones as it hit the wall. She recovered quickly, circling the blood mage. More bolts flew, and Yara dodged. The woman growled, hurling a boulder. Yara smashed through it with her sword. Dust flew everywhere, and she coughed. Still, it also affected the blood mage's vision, and for a moment she ceased her spells.

"Wretched vermin!" Her tendrils dug deeper into the dead mages, drawing more blood. As the haze cleared, Yara grimaced. The woman's face had become deformed, the muscles withering and skin stretched taut over bone. She lashed out, rending the ground apart. Yara jumped, but the quake worsened. The ceiling groaned, unable to take the strain.

"Yara!"

Bethany ran into the chamber, as rocks began to crumble like rain. Yara's eyes widened, but she fought the urge to drag her back. The mage knew what she was doing…or so she hoped.

Bethany shot a fireball. It caught the woman in the chest, and at once the earthquake ceased. The woman gasped, whirling to face the new threat. Bethany twirled her staff and thumped it into the ground. A surge of mana escaped, and the woman howled, her tendrils destroyed. Yet even without her power source, she cast lightning from her hands. Bethany yelped, narrowly missing the charge.

Yara bolted, instinct guiding her across the broken floor. The woman cackled, her entire focus on Bethany. Urging her strength into her arms, Yara leapt. She drove her sword through the blood mage's back. The woman screeched. She grasped at the blade that impaled her stomach, only for Bethany to set it alight. Yara retreated, as the woman flailed, consumed from within.

Finally she collapsed, and the ghastly red aura left her. Motionless, her skin turned to dust, and Yara's sword clattered to the ground. All that remained was a pile of bones. Yara shuddered. She hurried to Bethany, who was nursing a burn on her arm.

"Are you alright?"

"Just a scratch," Bethany assured, healing herself. She glanced to the mages' bodies, and bit her lip. "Those idiots! They should've known better than to trust a blood mage." She stood up, when abruptly something caught her eye. Frowning, she walked to the end of the cavern. The quake had dislodged the loose stone, revealing another chamber. Bethany brushed the rubble aside, then gasped.

"What is it?" Yara jogged to her side, also peering into the room. It appeared to be a makeshift study. Parchments and books lay scattered across several crates, but what really stood out was the oddly-shaped crystal that pulsed with blueish light.

"Maker's breath, she was a Fade-Seer," Bethany breathed. She stepped inside, approaching the crystal. "And she's been doing this blood ritual for months!"

Yara's stomach churned. So, that rotting smell had not been the flesh of animal. And the fact that the woman had wanted a child for this…

"The amount of power stored in this…" Bethany reached for the crystal, but then hesitated.

"What?" Yara raised a brow, half-knowing what the mage was thinking.

"We could use it," Bethany said.

"For what?"

"To find that apostate," Bethany went on. "Fade-Seers are able to conjure visions of the past, present or future. Most only see very briefly, but with enough power, the vision can last longer." She sighed. "I bet that woman wanted a scrying tool to predict Templar movements."

"But to use that…knowing where its power came from…" Yara shivered. No matter how badly she wanted to find the apostate, to use something wrought from so much death…

"Yara, we are getting no-where." Bethany's voice was worn. "I'm tired of running, tired of hitting dead ends and going round in circles. Your dreams aren't getting any better, and we aren't any closer to finding a solution than we were four years ago." She shook her head. "We can't let this go to waste. Not when we're the ones who always have to make sacrifices!"

"Beth…" Yara was speechless. The woman who was more than a sister to her had been slowly falling apart, and she hadn't even noticed. Her heart wrenched. The mage had become this way because of her.

"Let me do this for you," Bethany begged, "please!"

For a long moment Yara stood there, lost. Part of her wanted to go through with it, to not let the victims' suffering have been in vain, but she also knew the cost. Blood magic was a slippery slope, and the last thing she wanted was for Bethany to be tempted by such power.

She would bear this burden alone.

"Sorry Beth," Yara said at last. "I can't let you."

Before Bethany could protest, Yara touched the crystal. It was warm, and left her fingers buzzing. Bethany's eyes widened. She opened her mouth, but the words dried on her lips. The blue light turned crimson, and the air shimmered. Several silhouetted figures appeared, surrounding Yara. A dull ache pulsed in her temples, and she hissed. The shadows looked at her, then began to change shape. Their bodies twisted and morphed, then became more defined. At last they were given voice, and Yara was thrown into a different world.

"Empress, your Advisor of the Arcane has arrived, as you requested," a tall man announced, wearing a mask that covered most of his face.

"Excellent, send her through immediately," the Empress said, similarly masked.

"As you wish." The man gave a low bow, before he opened the doors to her chamber. Standing there patiently was a woman with amber eyes and raven hair. She did not move until she was called forth. Her steps were measured, calm, and she crouched on one knee.

"You summoned me, Your Excellency?" Her voice was suave, but held an edge that revealed she was not as submissive as she appeared.

"Thank you for answering so swiftly," the Empress said. "I have a task for you."

"What do you require of me?"

"An unusual item has recently been shipped to Val Royeaux," the Empress went on. "Rumours state it is a Dalish relic, and it might have a connection to the fabled Eluvians. I simply want confirmation if this is so. Should that be the case, it must be brought into our possession."

"Very well. I shall do as you bid."

The vision blurred, and Yara was thrown back into the cave. The crystal turned searing hot, and she gasped, snatching back her hand. Still, pain was nothing as she processed what she had seen. She couldn't believe it. After every cold trail and blind turning, and she'd been hiding under the wings of Orlesian Empress all along…

"Yara!" Bethany grabbed her hand, studying the burn. "What in the Maker's name did you do that for? That could've killed you, or worse!"

"It still worked," Yara argued. She winced as Bethany conjured some ice and pressed it to her wound. "And now I know where to find her."

Bethany blinked. "You…You saw the apostate?!"

"Yes," Yara stated. "She's acting as advisor to the Orlesian Empress, and…" She cut herself short. "Why are you so surprised?"

"You're not a mage," Bethany said. "You shouldn't have been able to see anything!" She felt Yara's forehead with the back of her hand. "Do you still feel okay?"

"Beth, I'm fine," Yara insisted. "Maybe it did something to the spell on my memories." She grasped Bethany's hand. "But it doesn't matter. We got what we needed."

"But…"

"Beth, I swear to Andraste that I'm okay," Yara insisted. "Besides, there's no way I'd ever let you touch blood magic." She managed a chuckle. "Maker knows your sister would kill me."

Her words broke the tension, and Bethany snorted back a laugh.

"She would," the mage admitted. "But don't ever do that again, alright? I worry about you enough."

"I'll try not to make a habit of it," Yara answered.

"You'd better," Bethany warned. "Right, let's get out of here."