9:45 Dragon

The broken magister sat alone at the top of the shattered tower. It had been over a week since he'd been moved there. She'd come for him and there had been darkness in her eyes.

At first, he'd thought she'd finally come to kill him. He'd wept from relief. At last, it would end. There was nothing more for him. Even the paltry purpose afforded him had been stripped away at the dissolution of the Inquisition.

And then he'd seen something in her, something all too familiar.

She was not the woman he remembered. That woman had been strong, self-confident and full of eager good intent. The woman who'd stood before him was as broken as he was.

She'd told him to pack what he needed, that he'd not be returning once they left. He'd taken the bare essentials. There was nothing he truly needed any longer.

They had travelled through the night, just the two of them. He did not ask where her usual companions were. They'd taken horses which had already been saddled and waiting. They had slipped out of the gate, across the bridge and were gone from Skyhold without anyone the wiser — as far as he could tell.

She'd been silent and he'd not cared enough to provoke conversation.

He'd watched her when they'd camped, watched her awkward fumbling. Seen her expression of frustrated embarrassment. He'd not done anything. This was her battle and he'd known that any offer of help from him would only be met with anger.

On the second day, they'd arrived at the tower. It had been uninhabited and decrepit with age. The chamber at the top had been intact however and roughly furnished.

He had sat on the room's only chair and looked at her.

She was thin and overly pale. Bruised flesh ringed her eyes, which were red with fine veins. Her lips were drawn into a line as she regarded him in turn. They were chapped and bleeding. She'd developed the habit of biting them.

She'd run her remaining hand through her unkempt hair and sighed. Then, she'd withdrawn a bound package from her satchel and handed it to him.

"Open it." She'd commanded.

He'd pulled aside the cloth to reveal a thick stack of parchment. Something smaller rested on top of it, something which made his breath catch.

An amulet.

One which was far, far too familiar to him.

"How did you get this?" His voice had been grating and coarse in his own ears.

"I am… was the Inquisitor. Is it so surprising?" She'd replied.

He'd shaken his head. "I doubt that even you would have been able to take this without someone noticing."

She'd narrowed her eyes at him and then looked away. She'd reached across her own chest and clasped the stump of her left arm.

"I did what I had to do." She'd turned back to him. "And now you are going to do the same."

"Whatever you're trying to do Lavellan, it won't work." He'd said.

She'd taken two quick steps forward and had grasped the collar of his robes. She'd pulled him up from his chair and he'd been surprised at her strength.

"It must work!" She'd said, breath hissing into his face. "There is no other alternative!"

"The Breach has been sealed for years and you have closed all the remaining rifts. I tell you again, this will not work." He'd said.

She'd released him and let him fall back to his chair. There'd been fresh blood on her lip and her eyes had been veiled. "I can open one. It won't be very large or last very long but I have that power, even without the Anchor."

He'd sighed and nodded. "Very well, then there is a chance." He'd looked away as bitter memories flashed across his mind. "But, you must know that even so, there is little chance you will be able to accomplish your goal."

"I will take whatever chance I am afforded." She'd moved back to him and bent down to gather the scattered pages he'd let drop when she'd lifted him.

That done, she'd handed it all back to him.

"This is everything that you and Dorian discovered together, as well as some theory I have extracted from the Well." she'd said.

"From the Well?" He'd looked up at her and had felt the ghost of excitement. "The Well of Sorrows? They developed a theory on this?"

She'd laughed. It had not been a pleasant sound. "Of course. They developed a theory for almost every variety of magic imaginable. They determined, however, that practical application of this particular kind was unfeasible."

"Why?" She'd caught his interest. Something he'd long thought dead had reared up within him.

There had been bitter humour her eyes. "Because, dear Magister, it was determined that whoever used this magic would be driven insane."


And so, a week later, he sat at the small wooden table which had become his desk. He had worked with little rest or nourishment but he knew it had been worth it. He had something — something that changed the magic he'd spent years working on in ways that astounded him. The knowledge of the ancient elves surpassed him. They'd more than theorised use of time magic, they'd near perfected it. But it had never been practically pursued. After all, what need did immortals have of a magic that allowed them to travel through time?

And the risk involved… it nearly took his breath away, thinking of it. What he'd done, what he could have done to the fabric of reality. It appalled him.

He heard footsteps on the stairs leading up to the chamber and turned.

She looked worse than before. She was covered in dust and grime and her flesh looked almost transparent. She'd clearly not been sleeping or eating much.

"We have to go." She said without preamble. "They know where you are. I have to move you before they take you back."

He nodded. He'd been expecting this. "I am finished."

She was surprised but her shock lasted only a moment to be replaced by excitement.

"Then we can use it? Work the spell?"

He nodded and handed her the amulet. "Yes, it is done. I can do what you require of me… but there is something you must do in return."

Anger suffused her features but it quickly faded to resignation. "Yes, anything Alexius. Just do as I ask and I will do whatever you want in return."

"You must save him. You must succeed where I failed!" The force of his emotions propelled him to take her hand, to grip her shoulder. He clutched at her, his last hope of salvation.

"I am not sure that I can…" She began.

"No," he interrupted. "You can. There is a way." He turned back to his desk and snatched up a sheet of parchment. "Memorise this. The red lyrium, it can be used to keep him alive. I have adapted Dagna's research of Samson. It will work!"

"Alexius, red lyrium is blighted. At best it will turn him into a monster, at worse…"

He shook his head, adamant. "No, with the proper application, it will work." He handed her the page, which she took. "Memorise that and give it to me. I will know what to do with it."

"You know I will have to keep to the course of events, as much as I can. I cannot risk Corypheus succeeding due to some slight change. I will still have to defeat you."

He nodded. Yes, of course, he knew that! "And when you have done so and judged me accordingly, I will be in a position to use that research."

She rubbed her forehead. "Very well. I will do as you ask."

He sighed. Something small and delicate now filled him. It had been so very long since he'd felt it. "Thank you, Inquisitor Lavellan."

"I'm not-" her protest died as she began reading the page and he could see her mind taking it in. She was intelligent, he knew that. She'd remember it.

"This could work." She said, voice soft. She looked up at him and there was admiration in her eyes. "This could very well work."

"It must." He said simply.


They had cleared the centre of the chamber. She stood on one side and he the other. Her remaining hand clenched and released rhythmically. He held a blade gripped fast in his.

"Are you sure this is the only way?" She asked again.

He nodded. "Yes. This will require power I do not possess. I will need the strength of my blood." He smiled at her and it was not unkind. "And besides, what need have I of my life in this time?"

She was unhappy but had no choice but to accept it.

"Now, open a rift and let us begin." He said.

He could feel her gather her strength, pull on her connection to the Fade. It was strong. She'd been using the raw power of the Fade for years.

Sickly green light bathed the chamber as a small rift formed. He watched it grow, felt the Veil tear around it.

He brought his blade up and used it to slice the skin of his opposite arm. He dug the metal in deep, opening his vein to the air.

His blood poured from the wound and he gathered it — gathered the raw magical power it unleashed — even as he felt himself weaken.

He twisted it, pushed it through the amulet in the complex magic he had spent the last week crafting. He aimed it at her rift and watched it change. The light faded as darkness began to swirl in its depths.

She walked closer, stared at it hungrily.

"No!" A voice shouted.

Someone was coming up the stairs. They'd been caught.

Lavellan tensed and stepped to the rift, a hair's breadth from entering.

A woman in leather and chain, bow drawn, flew up the last few stairs. She stood, panting, while more men and woman arrived behind her.

She swung her bow at Alexius but when she saw the wound on his arm, her face hardened and she aimed it at Lavellan.

"I cannot let you do this," Leliana said.

"I must, there is no other way." The once-Inquisitor said.

"We will stop him, Lyran, we will find another way. Please, come away from that and return with me to Skyhold." Leliana's voice was softer now, pleading.

Lyran Lyara Lavellan shook her head. There were tears in her eyes as she gazed at her friend and former Spymaster.

"No, Leliana, you don't understand. I don't want to stop him, I want to save him."

Leliana's eyes widened and then narrowed. "Then you give me no choice. I am sorry my friend."

Alexius' vision had darkened. He could barely see the two woman. But there was enough left for him to help.

As Leliana's arrow released from the bow, he flung his last scrap of power out and pushed.

Lyran was flung backwards into the rift.

He smiled. Now there was a chance for his son.

"Felix..." he whispered as the darkness claimed him.