A/N

This story was written for the "Dragon Age Fanfiction Writer" Facebook group's monthly challenge. This March is dedicated to Tamlen, so the story features him as the main character, the real core.

The Warden named here, Adrian Mahariel, is also the protagonist of my story "All That Remains".

Lastly, for anyone who's not familiar with the elven language, "dareth shiral" meand "farewell".

Enjoy!

DARETH SHIRAL, LETHALLIN

This time I got you, dammit. It has to be you! I recognize your wary steps, silent enough that anyone but me can sense them. So you took the trail on my right, huh? This time, I'll pinch victory from you, lethallin. I'm nearer than you to the rabbits' nest and I'm better positioned too. All I have to do is to stay focused on the nest. In a moment, one of them will crawl out. Rabbits simply can't resist the light of dawn.

And there it is. My prey is crawling out of the hole. I draw my bow, aim at the head. I can feel my heart beating faster, the excitement of the hunt taking over me. What's that rustling? Is that you trying to distract me? It doesn't matter. I won't fall into your trap! Finally, I am ready to sh―

Even before I can see the arrow stuck into the rabbit's neck, I hear the hiss in the air. And there you are, standing in front of me, not on my right. A glimmer of a smile on your lips, you are gazing at your prey. When you turn to look at me, you're smirking even more. I must be sulking.

"Yes, yes, we know. Adrian Mahariel is the best hunter of Sabrae clan. All praise Mahariel!" I snap, throwing the bow on the ground and bowing to my friend just like a shem would do.

Anyone else would punch me for this kind of outbursts. Not him. All he does is shaking his head and smiling gently.

"You sure you don't want a couple of tips, Tamlen? I could reveal you how I fooled you about my position. Maybe next time I won't surprise you," he replies, gentle as ever. I know he is for real.

Sometimes, I'm left wondering if my friend is not too good for the world. For me, too. I often pray that he won't ever have to experience any kind struggle in his life. He doesn't deserve it.

But I don't tell him any of this. All I do is snorting back at him.

He doesn't need to know how much I worry about him. He doesn't need to know that I'd lose a hundred hunting competitions if it serves to make him smile while looking at his rightly earned prize, no doubt already thinking about sharing it with the clan.

§

I open my eyes wide, but all around me is blackness. The same monstrous blackness that was eating my insides in my nightmare. I blink, and this time, I can actually see. I'm lying on a stone pavement, a stone ceiling is upon me. Where am I? There's no stone in the forest.

Then, I remember. The shemlen, the ruins, the mirror. The city I glimpsed. The darkness I couldn't look away from. Somehow, I'm sure that's the same darkness I saw in my nightmare. Somehow I ended up beyond the mirror.

Adrian! Where is Adrian? I have to help my lethallin. I struggle to sit up, but my limbs don't obey me. As I try once again, piercing pangs run all over my body. All I can manage to is turning my head. That's when I see them. There are black spots on my arm. One of them strangely resembles a web, or even a peculiar vallaslin.

What's happening to me? I've never seen such a disease.

Finally, I locate him. He's faced down in front of the mirror, silent and motionless. Thank Elgar'nan, he's breathing. He's alive. I have to stand up, I need to get help. I try again, again, and again. To no avail. I call out to him, I beg him to wake up. He can't hear me.

Seconds, minutes, maybe hours pass. I have no idea how much time I've been laying on the ground. Powerless and sick, all I'm left with is my remorse. I should never have touched that mirror. I should have listened to Adrian. If I had, we would be back at camp, with our friends and families. All I'm left with is silence and guilt.

All of a sudden, I hear something. Steps. The door opens. A tall, armed, bearded man appears in the doorway. My first instinct is to shout. Shems hunt us. Shems torment us. Shems chased us away from Arlathan. Before I can open my mouth, though, the man looks at Adrian and gasps. He doesn't seem hostile. He's concerned and alarmed. I spy on him as he checks my lethallin's arms and skin. His face darkens, and he frowns. Without another word, the human lifts Adrian up from the ground, quickly walking outside. Deep inside, I feel goodness coming from the human. Now that some blackness is eating me away, I somehow can sense what is, unlike me, good.

Me, I don't make a sound. The human will walk faster without my weight on his shoulders too, and maybe he will walk fast enough to take Adrian to safety. The faster he's brought back to camp, the more I can hope he will survive. I won't be the one slowing him down. Nor I won't bring this sickness amongst my friends and my family.

I pray the Evanuris that the Sabrae clan will welcome that man instead of striking him down, even if he's a shem.

All I ask is that my lethallin makes it.

I don't matter anymore.

Ever since we are born, even when we sleep in our cradles, we are told stories of the Evanuris. We are warned against the Dread Wolf, we are urged to shy away from Him. But we are also made aware that sooner or later all of us will fall into His clutches, and, therefore, will walk into the Beyond guided by Falon'Din. None of the People is under the illusion that life is eternal.

But I do wonder why the Evanuris had chosen for me to be your executioner, Tamlen.

You're laying on the grass, your skin darkened by the taint.

Your eyes are closed, by my hand. I couldn't bear to stare at the black holes they had turned into. This way, you are still my old friend, whose smile could charm anyone and whose words worked like magic.

I can see you pulling the halla's tail and chase away any suspicion with your childish, innocent, angelic look.

And if I close my eyes, I can still sense the excitement of our hunting competitions. The ground under our feet, the struggle to distinguish both the prey's steps and yours. I was a better hunter than you, you hated losing, nonetheless, you never refused a hunting challenge. Our friendship was stronger than your competitiveness. By the time we received our vallaslin, we were so familiar with each other's strategies that no one could hunt shemlen better than us.

You won't ever smile again, and yet I still remember the way our lethallan's faces lit up whenever you offered them a smile. I envy them. They will never have to keep this image of yours in their hearts.

You could have tasted any kind of life you wanted, Tamlen, but the Evanuris chose for you to be poisoned by the taint, to turn into my enemy, and to survive until we met once again. I prayed for you to find peace in the Beyond so many times. I never expected to be the one chosen to gift it to you.

However, lethallin, we still won. You fought until the end, you gave all you had to not hurt me. Some part of me still believes you chose to attack me to force me to get you out of your misery.

I look at you laying on the grass, at your skin darkened by the taint.

The moment my blade pierced your chest, I have killed not only you, but the last shard of illusion I had too. Once, I still hoped I could somehow go back to the life we had.

It was so easy back then. We had only one enemy, we enjoyed our little, perfect world.

Ir abelas, Tamlen. I wish you never had to stray from all of that.