I

"The darkspawn are growing in number, deep within the Korcari Wilds at the edge of Ostagar. King Cailan sent word to us last night, requesting for reinforcements. This is not a speculation of a growing enemy force—this is an urgent request for help. As First Enchanter and a native of Ferelden, I encourage all of you to step up and volunteer for talents for the good of your land…"

Already, the mages—apprentices and masters of the arcane alike—were murmuring and whispering to each other, perhaps out of excitement and maybe even fear, save for three mages standing in the midst of the commotion. The dark-haired mage, with playful brown eyes, nudged the man beside him and casted him an inquiring look. The slightly taller mage, with a serious demeanor, raised his eyebrows at the absurdity of the unmistakable notion.

"You can't be serious," he said, shaking his head, "There's no way I'm going all the way to Ostagar just to come back after the war is over." And it was true, for he was planning something far more important than—as childish as it seemed—the darkspawn threat in the south. It had been concluded months ago, on a cold winter's night, in the apprentice quarters with Garrett and Bethany Hawke, the only two people he trusted in this suffocating prison, that they had to leave—break free—and return home, to the life that was snatched from them. Going to Ostagar, as noble as it seemed, would only have to wait until their freedom was assured.

Garrett shook his head. "I'm not suggesting we go and fight the darkspawn head on and let them cart us back afterwards," the older Hawke mage said, "I'm thinking that if we volunteer, then we could just break loose and get away halfway to Ostagar—ow!"

"Lower your voice, brother," whispered Bethany, who had punched Garrett's shoulder when she noticed a few senior mages turning to look in their direction suspiciously, "If the senior enchanters catch us discussing this, we're dead!"

"I wasn't that loud," Garrett murmured, rubbing his shoulder, "Was I, Logan?"

But Logan wasn't listening. He'd already gone back to focusing on First Enchanter, who was already reading out the list of names of the people he had personally chosen to be sent to Ostagar. Somewhere halfway through the names, Logan had caught his own, along with Garrett and Bethany's. He looked back to his cousins, who didn't seem to notice, and snapped his fingers at them.

"Did you hear that?" Logan breathed, "He called out our names."

"For what?" asked Garrett, scratching his chin, "Are we in trouble?"

"No," Logan shook his head, his expression growing darker, "He chose us to fight the darkspawn at Ostagar."

Minutes later, Logan and the Hawke siblings were ushered up to Irving's office, along with seven other mages. Disgruntled as they were, they knew that refusing would land them in trouble with the templars—any act of defiance would easily be picked up and seen as an act of rebellion, something no mage would want to be accused of, for the consequences were brutal and severe—and went along quietly, trailing behind the seven excited mages in front of them.

"Can you imagine? Darkspawn! The real foul beasts themselves," an ambitious mage, Julian, gushed excitedly to his other fellow mages, "I've only ever read about them in books and heard about them from the more experienced mages."

"So have I," piped another mage, one that Logan recognized as Cato, "I'm more than ready to take them on!" Upon hearing his daring declaration, the rest of the mages made noises of approval and eager agreement, save for Logan and the Hawkes.

"Hey, Amell," Cato said, turning around to face the three silent mages, "You're kinda quiet. Are you scared, or something?"

Logan's blue eyes flickered over to the blonde for a few seconds before he directed his gaze elsewhere. "Yes, I'm positively terrified," he said evenly. He had always resented the prejudice everyone had against mages, but he had soon found after entering the Circle that there was more to hate than the people living on the outside—one of which included men and women who were arrogant and overly-confident about their abilities and showed off frequently. They, Logan decided, would be the ones more prone to turning into abominations than the rest of the mage populace.

"Sure you are," Cato snapped, rolling his eyes, "Well, when I see you on the field, let's have a little competition, shall we? Let's see who kills more darkspawn."

Logan kept his eyes trained on the ground as he walked alongside an annoyed pair of siblings. "Yeah, whatever," he said, waving it off. Cato seemed offended by Logan's indifference, but made no move to show it because the templars and First Enchanter were present and merely turned around and concentrated on his own friends instead.

"What a douchebag," Garrett whispered, to which Logan smiled and shook his head. "I bet he'll be the first to run back when he sees the enemy."

"I'm counting on it," Logan said, smirking, "I give him five seconds."

"I give him two," Bethany added, winking at her older brother and cousin.

Garrett patted his little sister on the head. "I'm proud of you, sis," he said, laughing, "But don't let him hear you say that. I heard blondie likes you." Logan bit his lip as he watched Bethany's expression transform into that of horror.

"Is that true?" she whispered, but Garrett had no time to answer as they entered the grand office of the First Enchanter. Logan had only been in here once—the very first time he set foot into the place that he would soon call his prison—but it was exactly the way he remembered it.

It was well-furnished, with tall bookshelves filled with books most of the mages in the tower have never had a chance to read and Irving's most prized possessions placed neatly in a corner, most of which included impressively crafted staffs and woven robes. His notes lay scattered in a mess on his desk, but Irving made no move to tidy it up. He probably had too much to do to be able to keep track of the neatness in his office, but no one complained. Some even thought it looked professional.

Irving was already addressing them as a unit, but most of them noticed the dark-skinned warrior standing beside the old man and began discussing his identity. Irving noticed their distracted glances and chuckled before gesturing for the man behind him to step forward.

"I'm sure you must all be wondering who this fine warrior is," Irving said, smiling, "May I introduce to you, Duncan of the Grey Wardens!"

"A Grey Warden in our midst?" whispered Garrett, "Things must be getting serious."

"I am honored to be here, First Enchanter, but I'm afraid we have to cut to the chase," Duncan said apologetically. Irving laughed and shook his head, and motioned for Duncan to carry on, to which the Grey Warden smiled appreciatively. He turned to the ten mages that now stood before him, and nodded, as though satisfied, and continued with his briefing. "As you all have probably heard, the darkspawn are returning in larger numbers on the edge of Ostagar. We don't know how it happened, but we suspect an archdemon must be leading them, which explains their discipline in holding back on their attacks from time to time. I am here on behalf of King Cailan to recruit you to be a part of the army and will explain the battle plans to you at a later date."

"Do we have a choice for this?" a female mage asked, voicing Logan's thoughts.

Duncan looked surprised. "I was on the impression that everyone wanted to be here," he said, "But I suppose, in all fairness, I will let you have the choice of accepting or declining. For those of you who wish you back out, please leave the office."

Logan had the sudden urge to walk out the door, but he saw that Garrett and Bethany made no move to leave and reluctantly stayed put. Only one mage, the woman that had spoken, had left the office, leaving Duncan with only nine mages left under his wing. He sighed and went on, briefing them about the situation in Ostagar. Logan clenched his fists and tried his best to pay attention, but found that he was distracted with thoughts of what Garrett had mentioned earlier—escaping halfway and going home. He knew he wouldn't have any other chance after this, because even he couldn't predict how long this battle will continue, especially with the presence of an archdemon, and made a mental note to discuss the idea of escape with Garrett and Bethany afterwards.

"Recruiting Grey Wardens? That's an honor!" Cato's exclamation jerked Logan out of his thoughts, and he realized that he hadn't been listening at all. He turned to Garrett, who had a curious expression on his face.

"What was he saying again?" Logan asked quietly, making sure Duncan didn't notice.

Garrett shrugged. "He said he wanted some of us to join the Grey Wardens," he replied, "Something like that. It's all rather boring."

"I do believe you can find other potential recruits amongst our other apprentices," Irving cut in suddenly, looking at Duncan meaningfully, "These are my best students—I would sooner see them become senior enchanters themselves than leave the Circle. You understand, don't you, Duncan?"

The Grey Warden smiled. "Of course, First Enchanter," he said, nodding, although Logan suspected that his desire to see some of Irving's "best students" become Grey Wardens was far from extinguished.

"Well, now, we will gather all nine of you again in the morning," Irving said, clapping his hands together, "Go and get a good night's rest. You will all need it. This is a field test of your abilities—abilities that you have honed and practiced for years in this tower. Go out there and do us proud, my children."

Logan was about to leave when he caught Duncan's eyes trained on him. It didn't unnerve him, but he didn't like the quiet attention that he was getting. He guessed that Duncan was considering him to join the Grey Wardens, but he'd already made a decision to break away from anything that was related to the Circle—even if it meant becoming an outlaw and apostate. He could not afford to waste his time and exchange his current life for another of eternal bondage, because what different would that be, really?

"Come on," Garrett said, placing his hand on Logan's shoulder, "We've got some talking to do."

"That boy in the back," Duncan said, sitting down next to the First Enchanter once everyone was gone, "The one with brown hair and blue eyes—what was his name again?"

"Logan," Irving replied, handing Duncan a cup of hot tea, "Logan James Amell. I've never met a finer apprentice mage than he. He has a bright future here—if only he will accept it willingly."

"Accept it willingly?" repeated Duncan, casting the First Enchanter a curious look, "He is… a stubborn man, then?"

Irving chuckled. "He is respectful of his elders, if that's what you're wondering," Irving said, stroking his beard, "He is just a man, like many before him, that does not condone the actions of the templar order and the Circle of Magi. I can see that he doesn't like how mages are eternally—for lack of a better word—chained to this place they must call their home. He is young, but I believe he will soon see that he will prosper here."

"A man with strong beliefs," Duncan said, setting down his cup of tea, "Very much like his father."

"His father?" Irving turned to the Grey Warden. "What do you know of his father? Logan has never spoken much about him to me… although I daresay he would've shared quite a bit with his cousins, the Hawke siblings."

"He doesn't know who his father is," the Warden replied, shaking his head, the sadness in his voice evident, "But I knew his father. His father was my comrade. Logan looks very much like him. I knew he was his son from the moment I laid my eyes on him."

"What a coincidence," Irving said, smiling, "Are you planning to tell the boy of his parentage, then?"

Duncan shook his head. "I cannot," he said simply.

"Why not?" asked the First Enchanter, "Surely he has the right to know."

"He does, but I'm afraid I'm not in a suitable position to tell him," Duncan said grimly, "His father has… personally requested that he must be the one to tell his son, no matter the circumstance. I must respect the First Warden's wish."

"The First Warden?" repeated Irving, surprised at this revelation, "Logan's father… well, I can't say I know very much about this enigmatic leader of your order, but I have heard whispers of his greatness. His wisdom and bravery."

Duncan chuckled. "He was not always like that," the Warden admitted with a half-smile, "He was once stubborn and foolish, as I was."

"How intriguing," Irving admitted, his childlike curiosity getting the better of him, "I'll have you know, Duncan, that I am bursting to know much more about Logan's father. But, alas, I am in no position to pry into such matters. However, if you will indulge me in the morning…"

The dark-skinned warrior let out a laugh. "I'll consider it, First Enchanter," he said, standing up, "And thank you for the tea. I will see myself to my quarters."

"Very well," said an amused First Enchanter, "Goodnight, Grey Warden."

"Are you insane?" Logan hissed, the moment he had shut the door behind them. "We can't just… walk out of a caravan of mages and expect them not to notice!" As tempting as Garrett's suggestion had sounded, Logan wasn't about to risk their lives by abandoning their to-be comrades and, eventually, their homeland in the fight against the darkspawn. He had never wanted to volunteer in the first place, but Irving—First Enchanter Irving, the leader of the Circle of Magi, who had so graciously and openly displayed his affection for Logan and the Hawke siblings—had dragged them into a much more complicated situation than before.

Garrett sat down next to a visibly troubled Logan. "Well, you can't deny that this is an excellent opportunity to get ourselves exiled while we're out of this tower," he said with a mischievous grin, "Think of the possibilities of this…"

"It's a crazy idea," Logan said, shaking his head, "And if we get caught for this, we're dead. They'll either kill us or turn us into one of the Tranquils."

"Now I'm getting goosebumps," Garrett said, shuddering slightly, "It won't happen—trust me on this. We just need to find one night where everyone's asleep and—" He snapped his fingers, smirking, "—we'll be on our merry way."

"Except they still have our phylacteries," Bethany pointed out. Logan gave her a thankful smile, grateful that there were still some brains within the Hawke bloodline after all. Garrett looked slightly peeved that his sister had rained on his parade, but had to admit that the issue of their phylacteries, the very key to their whereabouts, was still a large obstacle in the way of their freedom and something he hadn't bothered to think about.

"So what do we do now, Hawke?" Logan asked, smirking, "I don't suppose we could go to Denerim within a day and destroy our phylacteries and escape unscathed… could we?"

"That sounds absolutely brilliant, Amell," Garrett growled, tapping his fingers impatiently on the dresser. He shook his head and let out a sigh of frustration. "All right, fine. We're stranded. What now?"

Before anyone could reply, they were all startled by a few urgent knocks on the door. "At this hour?" mumbled Bethany, looking slightly worried, "Who could it be?"

"Logan?" came the voice of Jowan, a fellow apprentice mage, "Are you awake, Logan?" Immediately, all three mages relaxed and Logan crossed the room and unlocked the door. Upon swinging it open, Jowan walked right in and, with a frantic expression, forced the door shut. He looked pale and flustered—his expression was enough reason for Logan not to yell at him for just barging in without saying a word, so Logan relented and let the trembling mage sit down on the chair before asking him any questions.

"What's wrong, Jowan? You look pale," Bethany commented, her brows creased in deep worry, "Are you sick?"

Jowan shook his head, and wiped the sweat off his brow distractedly. "No, no," he said, "It's much worse than that. The templars… they're going to turn me Tranquil."

"Tranquil? How are you so sure?" Logan asked, moving over beside Jowan, "Who did you hear this from?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Jowan looked up at Logan, his eyes filled with fear. "They haven't called me to take my Harrowing yet, even though all three of you have—and I've been in the Circle longer than any of you. It's obvious they think I'm not good enough… there's only one option left for me—"

"Calm down, Jowan, you don't even know if they're really considering that," Logan said, gripping his friend's shoulders firmly, "You need to breathe."

"I can't," Jowan spluttered, suddenly reaching up to grab Logan by the collar, "If they take away my humanity, they'll take away my feelings for Lily—"

"Whoa, who's Lily?" Garrett cut in, prying Jowan and Logan away from each other.

Logan swore Jowan turned a deep shade of pink as he answered them. "We met a few months ago in the Chantry here and… fell in love. I know she's an initiate and it's forbidden but… We've been happy together ever since, and we thought we could keep this up until I began to suspect that the templars want to turn me Tranquil. I can't live without her," Jowan said, desperation clear in his eyes, "I don't expect you to know what it's like, to lose the woman you love and not being able to do anything about it… but you have to help me. You have to help us!"

"And how do you expect us to do that? You know Chantry initiates aren't allowed to have intimate relationships with anyone," Logan said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Helping you would mean breaking the Chantry law—how are we even supposed to help you, anyway?"

"I know I'm putting you in a spot, but I don't have a choice anymore. I'm going to run away with Lily, but before I do that, I have to destroy my phylactery," Jowan said, burying his head in his hands, "Only I can't do it alone. It's in the basement… where they keep everyone else's phylacteries. You could destroy yours too if you're afraid of being caught—"

Logan waved the suggestion off dismissively with his hand and shot Jowan a grim look. "Ours have already been sent to Denerim. There's no use."

"Then… I mean… you have to help me, Logan!" Jowan pleaded, reaching out to take his friend's hand. "Please… she means the world to me. You'll understand one day, when you find the woman you love—"

"Which is hard, considering how we've been in this tower all our lives and practically know everyone," Garrett said, chuckling, but stopped and cleared his throat when he received a glare from Bethany, tight with warning. "Well, I mean… yeah."

Logan sighed. "I don't know," he said, shaking his head slowly, "Jowan… we…"

"We can help," Bethany cut in, surprising all the three men in the room, "I swear it, Jowan. We'll help you."

"And who made you the boss?" Garrett frowned, scratching his head. "This is dangerous, Bethany. If we get caught—"

"You're the one going off making wild plans of escaping," Bethany said, glowering, "And besides, I'm not the one who suggested jumping off the bandwagon and abandoning Ostagar, Ferelden and the people just so we can go home."

Garrett groaned. "Point taken, little sister," he said defeatedly and, turning to Jowan and Logan, added, "I have to agree with Bethany on this one. What about you, Logan?"

"Fine," Logan said, shrugging, "But only if we leave with them. We'll have to make haste for Denerim the moment we're out of here. Our phylacteries… well, someone's gotta destroy them."

"Excellent," Bethany said, smiling appreciatively at her older cousin, "Now, Jowan, do you have a plan?"

Logan sighed, and exchanged glances with Garrett. This was going to be a long night.