Caelum emerges from his tent right as the dawn comes. The camp hangs in that ethereal moment between day and night where everything is a pale silver as darkness surrenders to light. He can see the spray of sunlight behind the silhouetted mountains as the sun steadily climbs higher, not yet able to dip over and bathe the region in its radiance.

He ventures into the surrounding forest, circling the camp, listening intently, and capturing every detail. Spotting a ram between the trees ahead of him, he stops short, grabbing a hold of his sword belt to avoid it clinking, not wanting to startle the animal. He watches the creature attentively, searching for any behavior that might tell him that its finely-honed senses pick up on anything that his own inferior senses can't detect. But the ram grazes leisurely, unbothered, so Caelum continues on. He circles around once more, until the sun finally peeks over the mountain summits and shines against the icy snow, before drifting back into camp.

We can't sit around much longer, waiting for something to happen. We need to act. Do… something. We've been out here for days, word must be coming soon. I wonder if the other camps know anything yet. Maybe I should send someone…

"Morning, Captain. I trust you slept well." His racing thoughts slide to a halt at the unexpected greeting. He stares at the young woman smiling up at him, unaccustomed to the friendliness. He is more familiar with mumbles and averted eyes. The Templars cut an intimidating figure and Caelum is fully aware that his aloof demeanor does nothing to soften that image. Before he was unconcerned, he had no desire to allow any of these people to get too close. He was satisfied with remaining detached and appearing untouchable: the sheepdog doesn't befriend the sheep, after all.

Yet, he had made a commitment to lead these people. To succeed in that, he needs their trust and approval. They need to believe in the man, not just the security of his blade and shield.

I suppose yesterday truly did make a difference. I just need to keep it up. Come on, Caelum, don't ruin it now.

"Hello. I mean, uh, good morning. I did, thank you. Sleep well, I mean. And you did too? Or… I hope you slept well… as well."

Oh yeah, good work. Listening to you stumble about with the grace of a virgin in a brothel is sure to instill plenty of confidence. He curses the traitorous blush that is undoubtedly creeping up his neck.

She giggles behind a gloved hand, "I did, Captain. I slept quite peacefully, almost like I was home again."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it." He glances around in uncertainty, unsure of where to go from there and thanks the Maker when he notices his Knight-Lieutenant crouched by the fire, watching them.

Seizing the opportunity to make a polite escape, he drags his attention back to the young lady, bowing his head and already backing away. "You'll have to excuse me. I must speak with Knight-Lieutenant Isaac about… plans. I hope you have a pleasant morning."

He turns on his heels and rushes across camp, groaning despairingly when he sees the smirk on Isaac's face.

He keeps his face stern as he approaches the lieutenant, who remains silent while eyeing him with a stare gleaming with mirth, and stands shoulder to shoulder with him, both of them looking out over the camp together.

Caelum sighs in resignations as the silence stretches on, "Go on then, get all of your jokes out now so we can move on. We don't have all day."

Isaac snaps his head toward him in mock bewilderment, eyes wide and face a picture of innocence, "What? Captain… I'm not sure what you mean. I was going to commend you. It is very, uh… enriching, yes, enriching to see you fumble a normal conversation, humbling yourself, showing that you're not as impressive as you look and whatnot."

Caelum only growls irritably when Isaac nudges him, "Honestly though, it's nice to see you come out of your shell. In all of our years of serving together, I don't think I've ever seen you willingly act so friendly."

Caelum huffs out an amused scoff, "You mean you've never noticed my warm and friendly disposition," he deadpans sarcastically.

Isaac barks out a laugh, "No disrespect, Captain, but you're a cold bastard."

They share a brief laugh, enjoying the small respite, and lapse into a comfortable silence standing side by side, watching the camp awake and prepare for the day.

"Truly, Caelum..."

Caelum's gaze is drawn back as Isaac unexpectedly captures his attention again and the stolid captain is instantly taken aback by the deep sincerity in the eyes staring back at him.

"It is good to see. I know that this familiarity that you're offering to them is not something you're comfortable with. But that's what being a leader is about, right? Putting others before yourself. I just mean to say that… you're doing well. Yesterday morning, they were practically diving out of the way when you'd stalk around camp. Today they're pulling — well, attempting to at least — you into morning chit chat," he chuckles at the small jab, but the honesty remains.

Caelum can only nod his head in acknowledgment, at a loss for words and overwhelmed by the rush of tenderness that the confession rouses in him.

"You know that I'd follow you to the Void," Isaac continued, "and I'm confident that every Templar here would say the same. We already know you're a man worth following, once we get over how icy you are, of course," he gestures out at the camp with a nod, "These refugees are beginning to see it too, now that you're letting them."

"Thank you, Isaac. I…" chewing on his lip, touched by the disarming words, Caelum reaches out to his friend in a rare show of affection and clamps his hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"Thank you."

There is nothing else to say, so they stand there by the fire quietly, just enjoying the company. Isaac is incapable of going more than a moment without speaking however, and Caelum inevitably feels his elbow dig into his side again.

"Hey. Caelum?"

He rolls his eyes, recognizing the tone and knowing that the sympathizer is gone and the jester is firmly back in place.

"What is it, Isaac."

"I uh... I saw you training the kiddos yesterday and-"

"Shut up."

"I was just going to say that I think it's sweet! That Baris sure admires you. I bet he hopes to one day be a big armed, strong jawed Templar machine too. I'll bet he's in the woods right now, practicing his swing and carving your initials into a tree."

Caelum can only shake his head in exasperation as Isaac, in true Isaac form, throws his head back and laughs.

Caelum's confidence in his leadership steadily grows in the following days. Refugees and recruits alike come to him willingly, unhesitant to ask for aid or obligingly overlook his lack of social graces to just engage him in refreshing conversation. They all fall into a comfortable rhythm as they weather this tribulation together.

In the early afternoon of the sixth day, Caelum is making his usual rounds throughout the encampment, checking in with the people, overseeing the recruits, and organizing the Templars. The show of attentiveness mollifies the group; even the whiny druffalo man can't quite resist giving Caelum a stiff nod of respect whenever their eyes happen to meet.

"Ser Caelum, good afternoon." The genial greetings no longer catch him off guard, making him feel off balance and inept. Now, he flashes an honest smile at the matronly woman that sets herself in front of the fire every morning, noon, and night to make sure that everyone receives a decent meal.

"Afternoon, Miss Bennett." Peering into the simmering pot of broth and deeply breathing in the familiar scent, he allows a little levity to bleed into his tone, "what's on the menu today, I wonder?"

Lips curling up into a teasing grin, she gives the pot one last stir before looking up at him with an amused squint, "I hope you're not sick of nug stew yet." As she taps the dripping juices from the spoon and leans back to settle in and watch the fire, Caelum notices her face contort in discomfort as she lets out a quiet groan. His eyes narrow with concern as he drops into a crouch, quickly looking her over. "Are you feeling alright?"

She flaps her hand dismissively, shaking her head at him, "Oh, I'm fine, don't worry about me. Body's just stiff sleeping in this blighted cold, is all. Don't you trouble yourself over it."

But he's already wracking his mind for a solution. That old quilt could be helpful. It's not like I really need it, my sleep pack is good enough. Damn, I wish we had furs.

"I'll bring you some extra bedding. I'm afraid it isn't much, only a small quilt, but it's warm."

"No, Captain. Really, I'm fine —"

"Please Miss Bennett, I insist," he interrupts gently, "It's no trouble. I sleep better in the cold anyway," he gives her a shrug and a reassuring smile, "have since I was a boy."

Her smile crinkles her eyes and accentuates her crows feet, reminding him of the sweet-tempered old neighbors that would ruffle his hair and smile at his boyhood antics when he was young.

She grasps one of his hands in both of hers and squeezes lightly, "Maker bless you."

Caelum barely has the chance to return the smile when he notices a Templar intently coming his way. He rises immediately, standing tall as the soldier stops short as soon as he's within reach.

"Captain, we've tracked a pretty large herd of rams in the valley, but we also found evidence of wolves in that area. It would be a good food source if we could pick off from the herd, but hunting in wolf territory is risky. Do we take it?"

"Yes," he orders soundly, "we can't live on nugs forever, there's too many of us, we need something more substantial. We can't stay here much longer anyway; soon we'll have to move and everyone will need the strength. Go after the rams, I'll send a pair of guards with you. Bring the meat back, let them deal with the wolves if they come." That may just work in our favor anyway. We could sure use the fur.

The Templar inclines his head sharply in assent and utters a clear, "aye, Captain," before scurrying off and leaving Caelum to consider what needs to be done next.

Caelum is absently stepping out of his tent, running his hands over the heavy, worn quilt and already heading off to find Miss Bennett when he sees Baris rushing towards him, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

The young recruit is breathless when he finally reaches the seasoned Templar, "Captain! There's a small troop approaching from the west. They look dangerous!"

Instantaneously a hint of tension seeps into him as his mind and body shift into combat readiness. Caelum wastes no time setting the bedding aside and nimbly crosses the camp, catching the eyes of the Templars and signalling to them to follow.

Isaac appears next to him, matching his stride. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure yet. Maybe trouble. Maybe news. Either way, be ready."

Isaac gives a stiff nod and falls back, taking up position behind Caelum's right shoulder.

Reaching the edge of a clearing, where the path slopes down the mountain, he is shocked to see a small group of heavily armed soldiers marching toward them with a Seeker of Truth leading the way.

His heart races. A Seeker? They must be bringing news. Finally some news.

He hears the shift behind him as they all at once drop their defensive postures and straighten their backs, standing tall and respectfully for the Seeker.

Caelum takes a steady breath as she approaches. She's a severe looking woman with a harsh scar across her cheek and dark rimmed eyes under sharply arched eyebrows and short, raven hair. Caelum can't help but feel a shiver of apprehension as she sets her fierce gaze on him.

"I am pleased to see that you all are in good health," she speaks bluntly, with a thick Nevarran accent, "I am Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast. First, allow me to apologize for not getting word to you sooner. We have been quite occupied, as I am sure you can imagine. Now, however, we have much to discuss."

Caelum leads them to the center of camp, where everyone has already gathered around the fire, hushed and waiting anxiously to hear the news that the Seeker brings. She scans the crowd of nearly two dozen faces staring at her and turns to him with a hint of a smile.

"You have a larger group than I expected. Unfortunately, most lives were lost in the villages that were hit by the rifts. I am impressed that you've managed to save so many."

"Our captain here," Isaac speaks up, nodding toward Caelum, "insisted on evacuating the villages immediately, pretty much the moment the explosion cleared. The demons were only just beginning to come through by the time we arrived, I'm sure only half of these people would be here now if he had waited to see how bad things were."

The heartfelt support of his friend faintly alleviates the apprehension that the Seeker's presence generates. Caelum resists the urge to turn and shoot an appreciative smile Isaac's way. I don't deserve his friendship.

Cassandra hums in approval, "excellent decision, Captain…" She trails off expectantly, leaving it open for him to fill in.

"Caelum, Seeker," he supplies, bowing his head in respect for a moment before securely holding her gaze again.

"Ser Caelum," she acknowledges before continuing, "many villages, unfortunately, did not begin evacuating until it was too late. Your quick response most definitely saved their lives."

The praise is akin to the lyrium in his blood. It's a revitalizing rush of euphoria that seeps comfortably into his core, captivating and invigorating, making him crave more and pray that it may never end.

"Thank you, Seeker." Caelum stands impossibly straighter, the confidence in his voice is genuine. "It is our duty, after all. My men carried out the task excellently. Each one of them exceeded expectations to ensure the safety of the people."

"How have you been faring since then? Sheltering and feeding this amount of people in the wilderness with no forewarning is not an easy responsibility."

"After the evacuation I divided my men into four groups. One cleared the way while another escorted the refugees to a secure location and the other two stayed behind in the village, one to keep the demons at bay while the other gathered as many blankets and supplies as they could carry. It's been enough so far. Some are sharing tents but we have more than enough blankets to keep everyone warm and there are plenty of nugs and rams in this area to keep everyone fed, for the time being."

"A good strategy." She nods approvingly. "It is admirable, how you have been managing this tragedy. They are certainly lucky to have you. I am not so sure that the other camps are faring as well."

With his mind still whirling from the praise, he can only dip his head in acknowledgment, graciously accepting the compliment before steering the conversation to more critical matters.

"If I may ask, do you have any news about the disaster? Any information about what caused this or what happens now?"

The question seems to visibly exhaust her and she sighs in apparent frustration, "Things are still chaotic at the moment and we are still gaining our footing, but we have someone in custody, a woman with a strange magic on her hand and the sole survivor of the explosion. She has been unconscious since her capture, but our current… expert… on the matter estimates that she should awake within the next few days."

Caelum lets this information soak in, turning it over in his mind. Of course this is the fault of a mage.

"The theory, as of now," Cassandra continues, "is that the magic on her hand may be the key to closing the breach. There are many risks, but we have few options, so we will attempt it as soon as possible. We all need to be ready the moment she wakes; everyone needs to be at the forward camp. Commander Rutherford will lead you–"

The world melts away as his mind stutters and crashes over her words.

Commander Rutherford. Commander. She believes that I can lead these people. She sees what I've done and she believes in me . My comrades believe in me. The recruits believe in me. The refugees believe in me. And the Seeker believes in me. I can do it. I can do this. Commander. I cannot fail.

He can do nothing but let the instant flood of adrenaline rush through his body, making his heart thrash in his chest and his skin tingle exquisitely, leaving him feeling frenzied and intoxicated. The surge expunges all rational thought, his mind fogs in elation.

"-he is convening with another camp, but should arrive here in a few hours time so prepare yourselves, " Cassandra continues, oblivious to the frenzy of emotions that her address stirs within him.

What is she talking about? Damn it! I missed something. Who is arriving in a few hours?

Caelum forces himself to return his attention to Cassandra, insatiably consuming every word she says

"He was active for and survived the devastation of Kinloch Hold as well as Kirkwall. He has ample experience fighting demons and volatile magic, and he is one of the finest soldiers that I know. I am confident that you all will be in good hands with him."

Everything she says rapidly starts to fall into place; clarity slams into him mercilessly. In a single moment, the adrenaline shifts from addictive exhilaration to dreary consternation. The pleasurable tingle on his skin turns to a punishing sting, the excited thrum of his heart now batters his chest brutally; he stops breathing for a beat. This is the work of a demon. It can't be true.

"His first name?" Caelum speaks brashly but he's too sick to care.

Cassandra eyes him questioningly for a moment, but the name slips from her tongue easily.

"Cullen."

His mind darkens. Suddenly, he feels nothing, then he's falling. With nothing to grab onto, not knowing which way is down or up, he powerlessly slips further and further into the darkest sectors of his psyche. The husk of his body sits there, unmoving, as Caelum drowns in the blackness of his mind.

You're foolish. You've always been foolish. Of course she didn't mean you. Why would they want you when they can have Cullen? Why would they settle for less? They don't need you. No one needs you.

Cassandra concludes her report as he listens absently, "It will be close to nightfall by the time he arrives, so I would suggest that everyone get a good night of rest and prepare to set out once day breaks." She stands and they all follow suit, making their way back to the edge of camp.

Caelum is a marionette as his Templar training moves him through the motions of decorously rising and walking alongside her, nodding his head at the right moments and keeping his gaze steady as she once again praises him for their valor.

He stands there for a moment watching her and her party descend the mountain path, then he finds himself back at the center of camp, staring into the fire.

A man approaches him. Caelum can see him fiddling with a tent rope in his peripheral vision, "Captain, might I ask for your assistance for a moment?"

His eyes don't stray from the fire. They stare deep into the flames, unmoving, unfeeling. They start to burn.

"The Commander will be here by nightfall. Whatever it is can wait until then." His tone is vacant, exposing how desolate his mind is.

He hears the man gather a breath, preparing to say more, but the fire seizes all of his attention as the flames shift out of focus and his vision blurs.

He's hitting the bottom of the abyss, and abruptly he's feeling too much. His armor is too tight, crushing his chest, his lungs push desperately against his rib cage. His pauldrons are too heavy, they're pushing him down, he can't move his arms. The air is too thick, too hot. He can't breath. He's suffocating. He needs to escape.

Lurching away from the fire, his head swivels as he searches for an opening. He distantly hears the man gasp and the confusion is clear in his voice as he nervously asks what's wrong. Caelum pays him no mind as his vision is drawn to the frozen woods that surround them. He spins on his heels and briskly moves through the camp, ignoring the bewildered looks he's receiving and fighting to restrain himself from breaking into a full run.

Caelum can vaguely hear his name being called, but it sounds so far away, distorted, like it's calling to him from high above on the surface as he sinks away. A distant part of his mind tells him that it's Isaac.

Don't stop. You're going to lose him anyway. He'll meet Cullen and you won't be enough anymore.

He keeps moving until the trees surround him and he is weaving in and out of the thickets, leaving camp behind. He charges forward aimlessly, running from the malicious thoughts that befoul his mind.

Wrenching his sword from its scabbard, he stalks across the woodland searching for danger. Bears, wolves, demons, anything to bloody his sword and trigger his Templar training to take over and numb him.

But the woods are silent, all life having either fled or lay cowering out of sight under the thick cover of the underbrush, frightened by his display.

The silence swiftly becomes too much. His thoughts are catching up with him.

Clutching the hilt too tightly to hide the tremble in his hand, he hefts his sword at a tree, satisfied with the way the blade connects solidly with the hardy wood. He slashes at it again, throwing his weight into it, but the hits fail to send a thrill down his spine. His wrists weaken and strain painfully and his shoulders throb in protest, but he doesn't cease his assault. Bark splintering and pelting his face, he hacks at the tree brutishly but the weightlessness that he seeks never comes.

An enraged cry escapes him as he heaves the blade once more, cutting deeply into the wood and throwing himself off balance. His sword falls from his hands as he stumbles back and drops to his knees, tearing his gloves off and digging his hands into the snow, curling his fingers around the icy flakes.

Head bowed and eyes closed, panting, he almost doesn't notice the rhythmic crunch of snow steadily growing closer.

He doesn't raise his head, he doesn't have to. He knows who it is.

As the footsteps grow close enough for him to feel the presence behind him, he opens his eyes and lifts his head a fraction to see armored boots step into his line of sight. They move past him, and a small part of Caelum desperately wants to smile as he watches one boot lash out and kick at the base of the battered tree.

"Stupid tree," he hears Isaac scoff before his metal wrapped arm reaches down and lifts his sword from where it lay on the ground. Then his boots approach again and Isaac is crouching in front of him, head dipped so his wide, deep brown eyes can stare into Caelum's with thinly veiled concern, but his familiar smile is on his face.

'Hey," Isaac, still looking into his eyes, casually reaches out and smacks Caelum's shoulder with the back of his hand, "stop that."

Caelum ignores him. Isaac sighs and stands back to his full height, and flippantly tosses Caelum's sword at the ground in front of him.

As the sword drops in front of him, the sleek silver a stark contrast against the white snow, he finally looks up at Isaac, who grins widely at him and backs up a few paces before bowing elegantly and drawing his sword with a flourish.

"May I have this dance?" he asks with an eyebrow cocked.

Caelum remains mute as Isaac's jovial grin slides into a challenging smirk. He lowers his gaze again, staring at the blade in the snow. He runs his fingers down the cold, wet steel until they brush over the leather hilt. His fingers curl around it comfortingly, then suddenly he's on his feet, rushing at Isaac and meeting his sword with a reverberating clang.

They dance, twisting and bouncing between each other's strikes. Caelum rocks back to evade a stab at his steel-plated ribs. His sword sweeps through air as Isaac springs back to avoid a swipe at his legs. His arms rattle as he brings his sword up to block a forward hit. A shrill screech pierces his ears as the two blades slide together as Isaac parries the hit. The captain and the lieutenant exchange blow after blow, linking blades and locking eyes, trusting in the other. The resounding clash of metal on metal and their harsh breathing overtake the clearing. His mind clears as his body shifts into the comforting rhythm of combat.

They pause to catch their breath as a vigorous collision knocks them both back. Isaac, looking into Caelum's eyes and seeing the clarity in them, lowers his weapon.

"You back?" Isaac asks between gulps of air.

Caelum feels his heart still beating in his chest; he flexes his fingers, blood still pounds through his body. He sees his breath fog in front of his face, his lungs are still working. He is exhausted, but the exhaustion clears his mind.

"Yeah… I'm here." He says languidly, lowering himself to the ground and leaning back on his hands, letting the snow cool his body.

Isaac drags his feet over and drops down heavily beside him, "I'm not going to pretend to know what's going on in that head of yours. I don't fully understand this whole…" he waves his hand in the air vaguely, "...brother thing. But I meant what I said. Brother or no brother, I'll walk straight into the Void with you, watching your back the whole way."

"That…" Caelum trails off, struggling to form the right worlds, "It means a lot to hear that, Ike. It really does."

"Well, that's what I'm here for. Just, you know, it doesn't have to be the Void," Isaac shrugs suggestively, "that was just an example. We can keep it simple and just keep beating up trees."

"A tempting offer," Caelum chuckles, "but we should probably go back."

"Yeah," Isaac agrees, nodding impassively, "we probably should."

But neither of them move to stand. They remain seated together in the snow, side by side with their well-worn swords resting next to them, and take a few extra moments to just enjoy the calm.

Caelum muses over the fact that he and Cullen will face each other again after nearly seventeen years. I'm not that naive little boy he remembers. I'm a stranger to him now. In a few hours, Cullen will see the man that he became, and as he thinks of that moment, Caelum determines that he will not be broken.