Small waves splashed against the soggy shore. The heavens roared, colored by the war erupting in Kinloch Hold. Lea could still hear the wicked screeches from the Fade. People he had grown up with, come to care for, had given into the treacherous promises blood magic gave. Templars had fallen by the dozens. Darkspawn had filled the corridors, an unbearable stench with them. Lea had dragged Roxas down floor after floor past demons, templars and the bodies of their old comrades. Far from everyone could afford taking a stand. Roxas had been of another mind. The templars ought to be punished for abusing their power, and though Lea agreed, it wasn't a cause he was willing to die for. Their window of escape had been within reach. They could have made it out together, but Roxas had decided against it. At the very last minute, Roxas pulled his hand back, out from Lea's grasp, and with a small dagger made a cut across his hand.

"I'm sorry, Lea."

A wave of his hand had Lea fall out the window. No scream of plea had Roxas reconsider and Lea's magic was not strong enough to counter Roxas'. The fall had been long, the water rough, cold, enough to weaken the will of the strongest of men.

Lea collapsed on the beach of gravel, soaked to the bone, his dress heavy with water. Lake Calenhald had nearly claimed his life. Accidental drowning was still better than to die at the hand of templars, or worse, abominations.

The Imperial Road should lay ahead. A road to freedom away from the Circle of Magi. The thought was meant to incentivate, but the distance from certain death revealed that Lea had not escaped unscathed. Roxas' bloodsplatter had turned Lea's dress to an armor heavier than those of the templars. The clouds lit purple once more followed by a torrential rain. Lea closed his eyes. The thunder masked a helpless sob and a wish to return to his prison.

-x-

The sun was unforgiving to a newly become apostate. It burned fiercely like a Rage Demon and showed as much mercy as one. The small gravel dug into Lea's back. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. His lips cracked with thirst. Heat had him fall in and out of eerie dreams where he chased his beloved friend down empty corridors. The hands of templars and demons alike reached for him, grabbed at him whilst he ran, until finally a voice broke through the deafening silence.

"He's alive."

"Leave him. A shemlen is no good to us now."

"But a Qunari is?"

Lea grunted when his head was lifted up and left to rest against a soft bundle of cloth. Slender fingers dampened his dry lips with cold, fresh, water. A wooden cup was brought to him for drink and what glorious drink it was. He could have drunk the whole of Lake Calenhald to never have to experience thirst again, but his savior begged for restraint lest Lea wished to be sick.

The sun had long set by the time Lea woke again. Instead he found himself inching closer to a real fire to keep warm in the desolate night with nothing but a clear sky above. His savior sat on the other side of the small campfire, stringing a magnificent bow. Lea would have recognized his savior's kind long before seeing the bow. The Halla pelt he laid on had been proof enough. With eyes wide he studied his savior, the long pointy ears, the beautiful eyes and lean face. An elf. Lea had never seen an elf for himself. He had only heard and read stories about the Alienages where free elves lived in misery. Few elven mages had made it to the Circle at Kinloch Hold. The templars prefered them dead, fearful of their ancient roots to magic and demons. The elf before him did not look starved nor was he a mage. Dalish, Lea thought in wonder. The nomadic elves were things of legend. They were difficult to find, an encounter near as scarce as one with a unicorn.

"You finally awoke, shemlen. I was afraid we had lost you to the Void," said the elf and put his bow aside. He brushed a lock of blue hair behind his ear to reveal a faint tattoo on his temple. It stretched across his forehead and around his eyes. "I've prepared supper. It isn't much. We are on rations until we reach Denerim. But I'm sure you'll be happy for it. You must be famished." He smiled softly and reached for a bowl by the fire to give to Lea.

Supper was stripes of Halla meat and three small potatoes. Though little, it was without a doubt the most delicious meal Lea had had and not a trace of it went to waste. It tasted of kindness and warmth, that which Lea had been promised never to receive should he flee the Circle.

"Thank you," Lea said to the elf once his bowl was near clean. "Thank you for saving me."

"I would hold onto my thanks in your shoes, shemlen," the elf said.

"Why?"

"I'm afraid everything comes at a price nowadays with the Blight breathing down our necks. My clan has been summoned out west to fight the Darkspawn. We are not very keen on keeping humans in our company but we were ambushed outside of Haven and we need every all able bodies we can find. I was only free to give you rations if I convinced you to join our cause."

"And if I don't?"

The elf looked at the forest behind Lea and then back.

"I would join our cause if I were you. It will do you well, shemlen. Food and protection. It is more than most have in these dire times. Can you fight?"

Kinloch Hold was barely visible in the fog over the lake, but Lea saw enough to be reminded of the horde of templars that would be searching the area for any apostate mages. Food and protection was more than Lea had ever had and if he were to live a life away from the Chantry's control, he would need help.

A nod and his fate was sealed.