[Again, a lot of dialog in game paraphrased. Thank you Bioware, for the excellent dialog! :D]

Veira awoke. It took her a bit to realize she was in her bed, in the apprentice quarters. She wiped her forehead which was covered with sweat and drew a shaky breath. She was alive. She had passed.

"Hey, you're awake!"

She turned to see Jowan beaming at her. Jowan had been her best friend ever since they were small children, and it was a huge relief to see his face. He was closer to her than Irving, developing a sibling-like bond between the two, even as opposites as they were. She was elven, him human. She was a good student, he was...well. Not a favourite amongst the seniors. But Jowan had an infectious cheerfulness with her, a determined mind to better himself, and shared the same anxieties and experiences that she had. He was family.

"Are you alright, Veira? Say something, please!"

She blinked. "Ah, yes, I'm fine Jowan." She sat up, turning to face him.

He breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad. They carried you in this morning, and I thought the worst. So many don't ever return so I..." He shook his head. "Anyway, is it really that dangerous? What was it like?"

She knew it was forbidden to tell apprentices about the Harrowing, but she didn't care. Jowan wasn't the type to babble the information to other mages, and their friendship meant more than following Circle rules.

"I had to go into the Fade," she said simply, not telling him the juicy details right away.

He raised an eyebrow. "Really? That's it?"

She grinned. "And I had to face a demon."

"Maker..." Jowan breathed. "Well...it makes sense really. Mages have to be able to resist..." It sounded like he was trying to convince himself. He pouted at her. "Now you get to move upstairs into the nice chambers."

She giggled. "Like that will stop you from sneaking in just to see me."

He laughed right back. "Oh? And what makes you think I'll care enough to see you?"

"You know you can't liiive withooout mee~!" she sang, grinning from ear to ear.

He stuck his tongue out at her like a mature adult, but grinned back. When the humour died down, his face shifted into a more haunted expression. Then he sighed. "I wonder when I'll get to do my Harrowing."

She smiled reassuringly. "I'm sure it will be any day now."

His face wilted, and Veira saw fear in his eyes."I just don't know! I've been here longer than you have...and...and I'm worried. That...they don't want to test me."

Her smile faded just as his did. "Jowan...you don't think they'll...make you Tranquil do you?" She sprung from her bed to face him better. "They won't do that!"

The Rite of Tranquility is the other option beside the Harrowing. It cuts off a mage from the Fade, and takes away their magic...along with their emotions. Veira had seen many Tranquil, as they continued to live in the Tower, and it was unsettling every time. They are like empty shells of their former self, speaking in their monotone voice. It was enough to give her nightmares about them, and in her dreams she was always Tranquil. As far as she was concerned, it was a fate worse than death.

"I-I don't know, but everyday it just seems...more and more likely..."

"Jowan...they only force mages to take the Rite if they have proven to dabble in forbidden arts, blood magic," she said firmly. "You have nothing to fear. Unless you ask for the Rite, which you won't, you are safe."

"I hope you're right..." he smiled weakly. He placed a friendly hand on her shoulder in thanks. "Anyway, I came here to tell you First Enchanter Irving wants to see you. Probably to congratulate you."

"Ah, alright. Thanks Jowan." She hugged the poor frightened mage before she left, asking, "See you later?"

He nodded, leaving her before she did. She watched his back as he walked, his footsteps seeming heavy. She shook her head. No...Irving wouldn't allow it. She made her way upstairs, ignoring the whispers of the other apprentices, some of who were disdainful of her success. Many of them held a grudge against her for being mentored by Irving, an honour all apprentices craved. They envied the obvious affection the First Enchanter had for the elf, their lessons together and their weekly lunch and tea. She wanted to tell them that jealousy was unbecoming of them, but making enemies with other mages was not advisable. They had enough issues with the Templars, and it was better to have companions rather than those who would willingly turn their backs when one ran into trouble. Not that they could do much in the first place anyway. Also, mage pranks.

Reaching the enormous library on her way to Irving's office, she had to fight the urge to take a book. There was nothing in this world better than books, she absolutely believed, and if she truly wasn't careful, she could spend the next five hours reading away.

She grinned at the apprentices practicing their spells; one poor mage loosing control of his fire spell, only to be blown over by his mentors' cold spell. She passed an ongoing lesson for the children, who gathered around their teacher in a Circle, wide eyed and curious. She smiled at them. She remembered those lessons at that age. She had been much angrier back then...for various reasons. Luckily, Jowan and Irving managed to ease that anger, which at the time she felt impossible. She had been very mistrustful of humans in particular, being raised an Alienage; tiny, broken down homes clustered together behind gates where elves were forced to live in in big cities.

As much as she hated it in the beginning, the Circle was home. It had shaped the person she was today. She had many fond memories of the tower, and would continue to create new ones, since mages could never leave. Only on special occasions with permission from the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter could a mage leave. She hadn't left the tower once since she arrived all those years ago. It was bitter-sweet she felt, having spent many hours at her window longing to go back outside, even if for a few minutes. But the tower was keeping everyday people away to protect the mages, just as it was protecting everyday people from the mages. At least, that was what the Chantry said. What she loved most of all of the tower was of course her fellow mages, frustrating as they can sometimes be, and the endless amount of books at her disposal.

But when that was all said and done, the Circle was still a prison. Gilded and pretty, but a cage nonetheless. And she would know nothing else.

As she left the study and emerged to the next level, she saw Cullen standing outside the Chantry. Truthfully, he was the only Templar that she liked seeing. She walked over to him, smiling and waving. "Cullen!"

His eyes widened in fear, then embarrassment; his cheeks flushing crimson. He had been standing up straight before she spoke to him, now he fumbled to stand still and couldn't decide where to put his hands. Veira felt her own cheeks redden. It was painfully obvious to everyone that he had a crush on her, and she wasn't oblivious to it.

"A-a-ah...h-hello, Surana," he squeaked nervously, "Co-congratulations...on the H-harrowing. Passing it, I m-mean."

She beamed at him and bowed her head slightly. "Thank you very much Cullen. And you can call me Veira, you know!"

It looked as if the blush on his cheeks would bruise. "Ah, buh-but I- Templars can't- I don't... I don't want to be rude."

She giggled. "You're not being rude by using my name Cullen. Don't be silly. Now say it after me; Veira."

"I-er," he looked at the floor, drilling holes into the stone by his stare. "V-v-veira."

She clapped her hands once. "Good!" She smiled kindly at him, though he didn't notice. "I'd like us to be friends Cullen. There's no reason Templars and mages can't be."

Actually there were plenty of reasons. But Cullen was an exception.

"I-I would l-like that too...but the rules...it's just...I have to follow-" He cut himself off, closing his eyes. He looked...ashamed? Or perhaps out of control, which he was. The Chantry did everything it could to keep mages from being treated like normal people, and Cullen was a part of the Chantry.

"Yes, I know," she said sadly, "and you would have killed me if I failed my Harrowing."

"I didn't want to! I mean, I wouldn't have wanted to," he said desperately, "but it's the duty of a Templar to-"

She raised her hand, with a sad smile. "I understand."

And she did understand. But it was still a despicable duty, born from fear and mistrust. And it still angered her. But she had to keep that anger in check, because no one in the world would support her, except for other mages. It was that kind of anger that made sure the Templars had justification in what they do.

"But...but you passed," he said with relief, "and I-I'm glad you are alright."

"Thank you. Perhaps I should stop distracting you from your duties." That sounded colder than she would have liked.

"O-oh! You're not distracting me...well you are but, I li- I mean, uh, you can talk to me. Anytime." He finally looked at her again.

She smiled. "Really? Then maybe we can talk some other time. Perhaps in my chamber? There we can talk all night."

The look on his face was priceless. Poor Cullen, his knees seemed to get weak and whatever skin that had not gone red was now the deepest shade of ruby Veira had ever seen. He tried to say something but all the words that left his mouth were incoherent. He squeaked a 'sorryIhavetogonowbye!' and bolted down the hallway as fast as he could.

She smiled as he ran, but then felt horrible. It wasn't fair for her to tease him like that, and only because she was angry. It was a childish thing to do. She would apologize to him later, after seeing Irving.

She passed the Stockroom, where the Tranquil Owain stayed. She had talked to Owain before, but it really felt like talking to a dead person. He had assured her he preferred to be Tranquil, but he didn't have emotions to tell him otherwise. There was only so much of his lifeless eyes that she could take, shuddering at the memory. Sometimes she felt they were still at the tower to remind the mages what they could become, if they step out of line.

She finally made it to Irving's office. As she entered, she frowned to discover the Knight-Commander was there, yelling at Irving once again. There was a third man there, whom she did not recognize. Judging by his armour, she surmised that he wasn't a mage, nor a Templar, nor a priest.

"-most of the Senior Enchanters are all gone, Wynne, Uldred. We've given enough of our own for this war effort!"

"Your own?" Irving scoffed, "since when did you think of mages as your own, Gregoir? Or are you afraid of letting the mages out of Chantry supervision, where they can actually use their Maker given powers?

Veira's heart immediately warmed at his words.

The Knight-Commander's face went white with fury. "How dare you accuse me of-!"

The third man cleared his throat. "Please gentlemen, enough. Irving, there is someone to see you."

Irving turned to her. "Ah! There you are. Come in, new sister of the Circle."

She bowed her head. "You wanted to see me, First Enchanter?"

"Yes indeed. Come closer, please." She nodded, and did as she was told.

The third man turned to Irving. "This is?"

Irving nodded. "Yes, this is she."

The Knight-Commander looked uncomfortable. "Well, it looks like you are busy. We can continue later."

He shot Veira an unfriendly frown as he passed, and she dutifully ignored it. "Now...where was I?" Irving mumbled. "Oh yes. This is Duncan, of the Grey Wardens."

Duncan gave her a polite bow. Duncan was much older than her, but definitely younger than Irving. He had dark brown skin and black hair, with a very handsome beard. He looked tough and grizzled, with the composure of stone.

She smiled back at him. "I'm pleased to meet you, sir."

Why was a Grey Warden here? To conscript mages, probably. That must have been what the argument before was about. Was Irving planning on letting her join the Wardens? Did she even want to?

"You've heard the stories of the Wardens, surely? And the ruin of the south? Duncan is here to recruit mages into the army in Ostagar."

So she was right. "Mages have a unique power against darkspawn," Duncan said, "so it is crucial to have as many mages as possible on our side."

"I see," Veira said cautiously, "is there...to be a Blight?"

Duncan looked grim. "If we obtain enough of an army, we could prevent a Blight. But I fear the worst."

"Duncan!" Irving said chuckling, "you worry the poor girl! This is a happy day for her. You have passed your Harrowing, and your phylactery has been sent to Denerim. You are officially a mage of the Circle."

It was the abundant pride Irving felt as he said those words that made Veira happy. She did feel proud about her accomplishments, and allowed herself to be proud of herself too. She beamed at Irving. Yes, this was a good day, after all.

"I present to you your new robes and staff and ring, with the insignia of the Circle. Wear them proudly, as you have earned them."

"Thank you, First Enchanter." She took her new clothing and staff, and held them with delight. Her new staff she placed behind her, and like all mage staves, it was enchanted to stay in place at her back by itself. The ring she slipped onto her finger, and she would change her robes the first chance she got.

"It goes without saying that you will not discuss the Harrowing with the apprentices. Now, take the rest of the day off, or study in the library. It is your choice."

She hid her guilty eyes by looking at the floor, seeing as she already told Jowan about the Harrowing.

"I will return to my quarters then, Irving." Duncan said.

"Ah yes, would you be so kind as to escort Duncan back his room, child?"

"Of course." She was sure that Duncan knew where his quarters were, but it was a matter of politeness. "This way, please."

When they were alone, Duncan spoke up. "Thank you for escorting me, I am glad for the company."

She smiled. "It is my pleasure." She watched him out of the corner of her eye. It wasn't often that she spoke to someone who wasn't a mage or someone of the Chantry, so perhaps he wouldn't mind questions. "If I may ask, what was that argument about?"

"Well, as you know, the relationship between the Chantry and the mages are strained, and that the Chantry only tolerates magic. Any mage in the army can release their full power, without having to worry about Chantry retribution."

"Ah..." Veira groaned. "That is what I expected..." She shook her head, sighing. "Is Ferelden truly in danger of a Blight?"

"A horde has formed in the Korcari Wilds and if we do not stop it, then a Blight would be inevitable. And I believe we need to use every chance we have, regardless of what the Chantry wants. We Grey Wardens believe that an Archdemon is leading the horde."

Veira felt a knot in her stomach. "An Archdemon?"

"Typically, darkspawn form rag tag teams on the surface. But an Archdemon can rally the darkspawn, and create an unstoppable force. I fear this is what we will have to face."

Veira nodded grimly. The world hadn't seen a Blight in hundreds of years, but they had nearly destroyed it every time one had torn through the land. Duncan was right. Ferelden needed mage recruits.

"Ah, here are your quarters." She had barely noticed they had made it so far.

"Thank you. Perhaps I shall speak to you again in the future." He bowed.

"I'd like that." She smiled and left him to his rest.

She decided that she should spend the rest of the day studying Blights and darkspawn. Admittedly, there were not that many books about them in the library; only the Grey Wardens really knew anything about them. But if a Blight really did happen, all the mages in the tower could be conscripted into the army. She would rather be more informed than ignorant. But first, she decided to put her new robes on for the first time. The Blight could wait...for now.

She returned to her quarters several floors below and changed. The robe was beautiful, even if that was not the point of mage robes. It was bright gold, decorated with teal and patterns below her torso. It went well with her light brown skin. She couldn't help but stare at herself, something that she didn't do very often. Like most elves, she was shorter and lankier than humans, and being a mage meant she did not have much of muscles. Her hair was a very light brown, almost blond, which she usually kept in braids, tightly wrapped in two buns at the back of her head. She never felt that fashion conscience, but mages tended to be so naturally, with their fancy robes and such. She brushed a strand of hair from her teal eyes, smiling. She could admire herself today because she had worked hard to earn this, and it was her talents that brought her this far. No one could fault her for that, feeling worthy of herself.

She turned to make her way back to the library, but held in a frightened gasp when she saw Jowan in the doorway, panting.

"There...you are," he said out of breath, "been looking...all over...for you."

"Jowan?" she asked, concerned. "Are...are you alright?"

"I- it...I can't tell you right now. Please. We need to talk but not here."

"Maker, Jowan, you are acting like you are in trouble!"

He pressed a finger to his lips desperately. "Shhh! Not so loud. Please, meet me in the Chantry. It'll be safe to talk there."

"I-alright, I promise."

He nodded once and ran off. She grimaced. What did he mean it was 'safer' in the Chantry? But she left for the stairs as fast as she could. Jowan was in danger.