Dreamer
All mages know the Fade; land of dreamers and demons. Sylvanna looked around herself. She was in the Circle tower, but not as she had last seen it - guttered, littered with the bodies of both mages and templars. Here, the corridors were clean, the air devoid of the stench of abominations and burning flesh. Two apprentices passed her in the hallway, giggling and passing notes, whilst armoured templars stood silently at their posts.
She was wearing apprentice robes, a garish gold and blue confection she had never really gotten used to. She brought her hands to her face, staring at them. They were smooth and clean; her left palm ached, faintly, but there was no corresponding wound that she could discern. She frowned, and turned to look behind her. There was only the plain curve of the corridor, leading down towards the apprentices' dorms.
A gauntleted hand grasped her shoulder, and she turned around, half expecting to see Sten or Alistair. The templar released her, his identity indistinguishable behind the helm. "Nadine wants to see you in her study," he said in a bored voice.
"She - who?" Sylvanna asked in confusion.
"You have a lesson scheduled with Enchanter Nadine. You're already late, apprentice. Move along now," the templar said gruffly.
Sylvanna stared at him blankly, but he was already moving on, continuing with his rounds. She found herself heading towards the stairs, her feet instinctively knowing the path she had walked so many times before.
"Sylvie!"
She turned, not believing her eyes. "Jowan?"
Her friend approached her, a pile of books in his arms and two girls in tow - bubbly, brilliant Charissa and mousy little Marielle. How Jowan managed to always surround himself with girls she had no idea; Maker knew he certainly wasn't a looker. Perhaps shems had lower standards.
"Who else, silly? Look, I heard you've got another primal class with Nadine. Why do you, of all people need help with primal spells? Unless-" Jowan leant closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "you're taking extracurricular studies?" He gave her an over-dramatic wink, while Charissa giggled uncontrollably, and Sylvanna felt a blush spread across her cheeks.
"Still spreading rumours about me, Jowan? Do I have to hex you before you'll stop?"
He sighed, as if deeply wounded by her words. "Fine, I'll leave you alone. Look after yourself though - they don't call Nadine 'the Siren' for nothing!"
"Bye," Charissa said, still laughing.
Blushing furiously, Sylvanna walked quickly to the upper stairs, ignoring the nearby templars who seemed to take no notice of her. She counted the doorways; twenty two, twenty three... twenty four as she reached her destination.
She knocked sharply on the door.
"Come in."
Nadine's study was smaller than that of most enchanters. The space was dominated by an old oak desk, pitted and scarred with marks from misdirected spells. A low fire burned cheerfully behind the desk, and Nadine had decorated the stone walls with soft drapes, a real fur rug spread across the floor. Unlike most children sent to the tower, Nadine's mother still thought of her fondly, it seemed, and the enchanter received gifts from her family at regular intervals.
"I'm so sorry I'm late, Enchanter-" Sylvanna began.
"'Nadine,' please, Sylvanna," her tutor said, smiling. Nadine was young to be promoted to the role of enchanter - skilled, charming and beautiful, she was rumoured to be the daughter of a minor bann, whose family had been devastated when they learnt of her magical abilities. She had been sent to the tower at age eleven, older than most apprentices, but her talent and diplomatic grace had led to a rapid rise through the Circle's hierarchy.
"Sit," Nadine ordered. As Sylvanna obeyed, the enchanter peeked out into the corridor, checking for templars, before closing the door.
"I have something exciting to tell you," Nadine said, taking her seat behind the desk. "Can you guess what it is?"
"Um, no?" Sylvanna said, staring with confusion at the enchanter's face. Everything was as it should be - her long red hair pinned up in an effortlessly tidy pair of braids, eyes lit with anticipation, teeth gleaming prettily when she smiled. Sylvanna could not shake the feeling, however, that something was terribly wrong.
"Come closer then, and I'll whisper it to you."
With trepidation, Sylvanna stood and walked around the desk to stand before her tutor. She crouched down, and Nadine leaned over, her breath warm against Sylvanna's skin.
"In a week's time, they'll be taking you for your Harrowing."
Sylvanna jerked away, her eyes wide with surprise. "Enchan- I mean, Nadine! You're not supposed to be telling me this!"
"Shh!" The enchanter laughed, her eyes flicking briefly towards the door. "Don't be so uptight. I've booked extra lessons for you - you can take Charissa's slots for the next few days, not that you'll need them, of course. I have the highest confidence in you, darling," she purred as she stood up, walking towards Sylvanna. She took the elven girl's hands, drawing her closer.
"Once you're a fully Harrowed mage, I'll no longer be your tutor," Nadine said, putting Sylvanna's hands around her waist, as she wrapped her arms around the girl's shoulders. "There won't be any silly rules keeping us apart. We can see each other whenever - and wherever - we like," she said suggestively, flicking her tongue against the ridge of the Sylvanna's pointed ear.
Sylvanna gasped, trying to think, but it was hard to concentrate with Nadine's hands stroking her hair, her lips placing delicate kisses down her neck. "You still shouldn't have told," she protested feebly, feeling her resistance weakening.
"Then perhaps you should punish me," the enchanter said, laughing with delight as her apprentice eagerly pulled them both onto the soft fur rug.
"The templars will hear us," Sylvanna murmured, running her hands slowly down her tutor's body.
"Then hush, my darling," Nadine whispered, closing her eyes as she arced her body towards Sylvanna's touch.
"Hush."
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.
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It was night when Sylvanna woke, naked, in her bed in the apprentices' dorm. There were no windows to see the night sky, but the air tasted different - cooler, cleaner. She could not remember leaving Nadine's room, or undressing before getting into bed (surely she didn't wander nude down the stairs in front of all the templars? Maker forbid!)
She sat up groggily, reaching blindly for her robes. As she dressed, she was struck by the sheer absence of sound - there was always someone whispering in the dorms, or crying, or at the very least there was the soft clanking of templars pacing the corridors. Now - there was simply nothing; just the sound of her own heart beating in the darkness.
"Charissa? Marielle?" she whispered, turning towards the alcove where the two girls bunked.
There was no reply. She spoke again, calling a wisp of light into her hand. The girls' bunks were empty, and as she looked around the dorm, she could see that all of the beds were unoccupied.
Uneasily, she walked into the corridor, her eyes searching for the templar who was supposed to be on duty at all times in front of the dorm. The hallway was empty, and so too was the one beyond it. Sylvanna touched the walls, looking for reassurance. They felt cold, solid - not like a dream at all.
She wandered, calling for anyone to answer her. Around her there was only silence; even the stockroom was empty. Owain had always been there, as far back as she could remember, and the sight of the stockroom devoid of his presence gave her chills. She continued upward, through the senior enchanters' quarters, up to the very top of the tower.
The final door was old and very heavy, and she struggled against it for what felt like ages before it finally opened. A cold gust of air blew in her face, and as she stepped out she tucked her hands into her sleeves, shivering.
"Oh darling, you must be freezing," Nadine said, turning away from the edge of the tower. She smiled, gesturing for Sylvanna to join her side. "Couldn't you sleep?"
"What are you doing here?" Sylvanna asked numbly. She stared into the horizon, trying to make out the edge of lake Calenhad. Even though it was a clear night, the borders of her vision looked fuzzy, undeveloped. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, but that seemed to make it even worse.
"I couldn't sleep either," Nadine said with a sly smile. "I'm been thinking of you - of us being together," she purred, caressing Sylvanna's arm.
"The templars - the mages, they're all gone," Sylvanna said, staring vacantly past the enchanter. Being around Nadine made her feel stupid, made her thoughts slow like ants drowning in honey.
"It's just the two of us, darling. Isn't that what you always wanted? No other apprentices; no Charissa to distract me. No templars or senior enchanters to tell us what we can't do. Just you and me, my pet."
"You're not supposed to be here," Sylvanna insisted, breaking away from Nadine's grasp. She looked down, staring at the dark waters lapping at the base of the tower. "I'm not supposed to be here."
"Oh? Well, we could anywhere you like, my darling. We could travel together, see the world. We don't have to stay in this horrible tower any more. Wouldn't you love to see the Anderfels with me? Maybe visit Orlais, or Antiva?"
"I knew an Antivan once," Sylvanna said slowly. "And an Orlesian. A bard."
She looked up, seeing the smile slipping from Nadine's face.
"I remember..."
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"Blood magic," Wynne said grimly, readying a spell of protection.
Sylvanna turned, lightning crackling on her fingertips - and stopped, a look of horror on her face. "Nadine?" she whispered, then was thrown back, crying out as she felt her blood boiling in her veins. She struggled to get up, and then felt something impact beside her, the force of the explosion sending her flying.
She wasn't sure how long she was out, waking only to Wynne's healing energies mending her body and sealing her wounds.
Nadine was still alive when she limped over, but the two other blood mages were dead. Nadine was splattered with blood, her once perfect hair dirty and in disarray. She was asking for her freedom, pleading against all hope for mercy. Alistair was saying something about how the Chantry didn't shelter maleficarum, but Sylvanna could scarcely make out the words, questions roaring inside her head.
"Blood magic?" she whispered. "Why, Nadine? Why didn't you tell me?"
Nadine turned her head, wincing with the effort. "You were just a child, Sylvanna. But now I can see you've become strong." She coughed, blood splattering onto her hands. "Look at you now – a Grey Warden!" She lowered her voice, pleading. "I could teach you, if you let me live. It could be like old times, Sylvanna - you and I..."
"Charissa is dead," Sylvanna said numbly. "Briony. Simon. Lysander. Marielle. Rhiannon - by the Maker, she was only seven, Nadine! You unleashed the abominations that killed them. Their blood is on your hands."
"I - we never wanted anyone to get hurt, Sylvanna," she groaned, clutching her side. Sylvanna cast a healer's eye over her - broken ribs, internal bleeding; she was unlikely to be in any shape to leave the tower. "I love you," Nadine said imploringly, slowly getting to her feet. Alistair and Shale stood instantly to attention; weapons and fists at the ready. Nadine ignored them, taking a step towards Sylvanna.
"You once had feelings for me," she continued. "For the sake of what we once had, let me go."
Sylvanna stared at her, seeing in her mind a woman who had been strong, courageous; a person who had been her friend and confidante in a world where every secret was jealously guarded. "I would have done anything for you," Sylvanna whispered, her voice trembling. "Anything." There were tears in her eyes, she realised, as she blinked them away angrily. "But the woman you once were is no more."
"Sylvanna-"
"Maker have mercy on your soul," the Warden said tonelessly, as her hands filled with a bright flare of light.
Nadine screamed, then was silent at last.
.
.
.
"I – I didn't want to see that again," Sylvanna said, one hand to her mouth. She could taste bile at the back of her throat and gagged, trying to suppress a wave of nausea.
'Nadine' smiled and shrugged disdainfully. "That was your choice. I gave you what you wanted, did I not? We could have been happy together, you and I."
"Up to the point where you drained my soul dry," Sylvanna muttered, looking around her. The drop from the top of the Circle tower was steep, and the demon was blocking the door back to the upper level.
The demon waved a hand dismissively. "You will die anyway, from the taint if not from the darkspawn. Why not spend your last few years pleasantly, instead of fighting a war you cannot win?"
"If the Blight consumes Ferelden, there won't be many souls left for you to feed upon," Sylvanna retorted, considering her options. Could she win a fight against the creature? Probably, she supposed, but that could leave her real body injured, and if she was still out there somewhere in the wilderness, being maimed could be a problem.
"That's why I need to find myself a nice, juicy soul before they become scarce," the demon said lovingly. "And you mages are ever so delicious - power flocks to you, like fireflies to a flame."
"You offer nothing I want," Sylvanna said cautiously, edging closer to the door. Maybe if she stopped the demon for long enough, she could make a run for it.
"And now?" the demon asked, suddenly wearing Morrigan's face. She smiled wickedly, golden eyes almost glowing under the starlight. "Never have you wondered, dear Sylvanna, how 'twould feel to bed a witch?"
"No," Sylvanna lied, preparing a spell in her mind.
"I could teach you much of the wild arts," demon-Morrigan purred suggestively, walking towards Sylvanna with a sway to her hips, the ridiculously revealing robes she wore drifting open, skin pale in the moonlight.
Sylvanna must have blushed, the demon catching her eye and smiling as she shrugged her shoulders so that her flimsy blouse slipped even lower. She cupped a bared breast with one hand, tweaking the nipple to a rosy peak.
"Wouldn't you love a taste?" she offered, tracing her fingertips with lingering slowness across her body.
"I - no!" Sylvanna said, mortified. Only two more yards to the door... but Morrigan (no, the demon) was still in front of her, blocking the way.
"Don't you deserve to be happy, Sylvanna?" she asked in Morrigan's voice. "You've been fighting for so long - don't you deserve to have someone... take care of you?"
"And you think Morrigan would do that for me?" Sylvanna asked angrily, her eyes darting to the side, seeking a way out. "Morrigan – who cares only for herself?" She looked up, gazing into the demon's golden eyes, seeing her face reflected in their luminous surface. "Once, I asked her to learn how to heal," she began conversationally. "Such a little thing – such a tiny little spell – and she refused. So, no – I do not think that she could ever 'take care of me.' But of course, you know this," she chided the demon gently. "You've read my mind." Nadine had been a violation, a perversion of the few tender memories she'd had left, and the seduction rankled at her like an open wound.
"So let us make a deal," the demon suggested softly, as she reverted to her true form. She towered over Sylvanna, her horns glamorously coiled, her tail swishing from side to side angrily like a cat.
"I think not," Sylvanna said. She saw the demon's eyes narrow, and threw herself to the side just as a burst of cold air passed her, freezing the stones where she had just been standing. Her hands darted in the air, impossibly quick, weaving magic together to cage the demon in a rapidly collapsing bubble. As the demon screamed in anger, she reached for the door, wrenching it open and hurtling inside.
She found herself running into a nightmare, the one where she had been unable to save Irving and where Uldred had succeeded in taking over the tower. Lights flickered dimly on either side, illuminating blood splatter on the walls, broken tables, chairs overturned and propped up against doorways as barricades. She slowed, glancing anxiously over her shoulder, but all was quiet.
Apprentices in the Circle were taught from day one that there was only one way to get out of the tower alive, and that was through the massive doors on the ground floor, guarded endlessly by ever-vigilant templars. But this was a dream, and the rules in dreams were strange and changeable from moment to moment.
The creaking of the door behind her made Sylvanna jump in surprise, as the demon slowly entered, looking not the slightest bit worse for wear.
"There you are, little mageling," she breathed, gliding down the stairs. She clapped her hands sharply, and the two doors leading out of the chamber slammed shut. Sylvanna ran to the nearest, pulling against it with all her might, but it refused to budge.
Where is Shale when I need her, she thought desperately to herself.
"I wish you wouldn't run," the demon complained. "You might hurt your pretty head, and what use would you be to me then?"
Sylvanna screamed, feeling something touch her ankle, and looked down. A corpse grinned back at her, half its flesh rotted off the face, the hair falling out… but she would recognise that look anywhere.
"You again?" she asked, equal parts amusement and despair.
The corpse moaned, its voice hollow and strained. "Why did you let me die, Sylvie?" It reached for her blindly, and she jerked away in disgust. "I thought you were my friend," it said, its voice pleading, just as she had remembered Jowan pleading with her to help him and Lily.
"Get away from me," Sylvanna said, and cast a spell, the corpse's head exploding into flames. It grunted, but continued to move towards her with the inevitability of death, fire licking through the eye sockets of the skull.
"We were all your friends," a voice called from across the room. Another corpse was rising, a woman - Marielle it seemed, by those silly little plaits she used to wear.
"I wasn't." A third voice spoke from behind the desire demon, shambling into view. The top half of her face had caved in, but there was hardly any decay to her flesh. "Nadine liked you best. You - an elf, of all things! Oh, she smiled and acted as if it wasn't so, but I knew how she really felt," Charissa continued bitterly.
"Nadine is dead," Sylvanna said, backing away slowly. "And so are you."
She spoke a word, psychic energy radiating out around her. The corpse creatures cried out, writhing on the floor in agony. How they had any minds left to feel at all she had never understood. Morrigan had said something about 'psychic resonance' and 'somatic memory,' but she had been far too busy trying to puzzle out how the witch's robes stayed on in a stiff breeze to pay attention.
The demon began chanting, and Sylvanna looked around frantically. Seeing an upturned table, she ducked behind it, feeling the echoes of a spell wash harmlessly off its surface. She could hear groaning from all corners of the room as the demon's minions started to rouse. She needed to win, and soon, before she was swamped by the risen dead. Desperately, her eyes searched for something she could use - settling on a narrow piece of iron, torn free from its place as part of a railing. She hefted it, testing its weight, then ducked as Marielle swiped at her from her left. The corpse groaned in frustration, but Sylvanna wasn't listening, concentrating all her power into a spell.
She spoke, unleashing her energy in a tight arc that caught both the demon and Charissa in its path. They froze in place like malevolent statues, arms outstretched as if reaching for Sylvanna. The demon's face was caught in a snarl, her beauty now twisted to bestial vengeance.
Sylvanna tightened her grasp on the railing, gritted her teeth and swung the bar around with all her might. It connected solidly with the demon, its frozen form cracking instantly with a terrible breaking sound. The pieces fell away, the head shattering as it hit the floor. She dropped the bar, her hands shaking with fatigue. She could hear the Jowan corpse moaning softly, its vocal cords burnt to nothing; could see Marielle shuffling in front of her with an empty look on her face.
The last thing she remembered was Jowan's skeletal hands reaching out for her throat, and the sound of her own voice, screaming.