Chapter 2: Dreams All Fail

He thought maybe she'd been joking, because he didn't see her at daily prayers for the next two days.

"You're hiding something," Neria, accused. She reached across the table and slid his bowl of porridge toward her. She was always hungry, but still remained lithe and willowy. He supposed she needed all that energy for her potent elemental spells. "Spill." She shoveled the porridge into her. Maybe her hunger was left over from growing up poor in the Denerim Alienage.

"It's nothing," he said with a forced smile, but he couldn't meet Neria's eyes, and even if he did she would know he was lying.

Her big green eyes searched him and he felt the mana in the air tingling around them. Finally she shrugged. "Suit yourself. So did you hear they finally made Keili Tranquil?" She said it so casually. But her spoon hovered over the bowl and trembled ever so slightly.

It was no shock; Keili was always going on about how Tranquility was the only thing that could make her right before the Maker. Jowan had stopped caring about such things long ago. "Don't ever let them do that to me," he choked out, reaching for Neria's sleeve.

She shook her head and smiled, though it did not quite reach her eyes. "They'd have to get through me, first," she said. It was a running joke between the two of them. Jowan was nothing close to physically imposing; few mages actually were. But Neria, as an elf, was far slighter. It usually got them a laugh, but this morning, with the news of Keili, and Jowan's plans with Lily, he couldn't do much more than shrug while his stomach churned.

He stood. "I'm going to go study. Maybe then they'll finally Harrow me so I don't have to keep listening to little kids crying at night," he said.

"You were one of those kids," Neria reminded him, stirring at her half-finished porridge. "So was I. They can't help it, so don't be mean."

"I'm not trying to be," he told her, and it was true, but in his anxious mood it was hard to sound sincere. He headed for the library, dragging his feet so the halls wouldn't seem so silent. He hated the silence. It made his thoughts so loud.

He hated hiding things from Neria. She had stuck by him since they met and she told him everything, from her crush on the templar Cullen to her insider knowledge about their phylacteries.

Shit. The phylactery.

When Lily had asked him to run away with her, he'd been so drunk on the idea of freedom and a life spent with her that he'd forgotten about the vial of blood that bound him to the Circle more tightly than any chain ever would. It was why few mages ever dared to run: there was no point. For as much as the Chantry maligned blood magic, they certainly didn't mind using blood when it was convenient for them.

"Stop, mage."

The muffled voice came out of nowhere and Jowan jumped. His heart raced and he hoped he hadn't wet his robes. The templar stood in the corner, lounging between the walls, helmet down. He hated when they did that; he could never tell if they were angry, or laughing at scaring him. He stood as if he'd been caught doing something wrong. Then again, he'd been thinking about his phylactery, and thinking bad thoughts about the Chantry. He was going to hell for certain.

"Where are you going?"

"Library," Jowan muttered. He was one of the oldest apprentices, true, but he had every right to go there. Why did he feel like he was doing something wrong?

The blank helmet stared at him until he began to squirm. "What are you studying?"

"Magic," Jowan said. "Entropy. Restoration. Primal. Sprit." The helmet watched him and Jowan began to feel irritated. "Andraste? The Maker? Memorizing the Chant?"

"Don't get smart with me, apprentice," the templar hissed, voice hollow within the helmet.

Jowan's nerves snapped. "I'm just going to the fucking library!" he shouted. "Did you pass some rule about that while I was eating breakfast?" He staggered back, lost his balance, and sprawled on the floor, feeling as if the air had been sucked from his lungs. He saw stars.

"Next time I'll use my fist to smite you," the templar said, still lounging against the wall, and Jowan was certain he was smiling. "Fuck off. I'll be watching you."

It took a moment for Jowan to get his breath, and to get his legs under him enough to stand. When he did he swayed slightly. There was a lump in his throat and his hands and feet tingled while his face burned. Suddenly the only thing that mattered was finding Lily and getting the fuck out of here.

He raced through the library gulping in the air while tears choked him and he was trying so hard not to cry in front of the templars or the younger apprentices, most of which thought he was a failure anyway. He didn't even know where to look for Lily; they only ever met in the chapel during prayers and in the storage caverns afterward. They'd never arranged to meet at a random time.

He was in no mood to even fake-pray, so he headed straight to the storage cavern. He would miss classes, but he didn't care; he would wait here for days if it meant seeing Lily. He cast a furtive glance about to see if anyone was watching, and when he felt comfortable he sidled into the cavern, latching the door behind him.

The air was musty and dank, but there was a faint spicy smell that made his heart leap into his throat. "Lily?" he whispered to the dark.

She didn't speak. Her hand touched his arm and trailed down his sleeve so she was grabbing his wrist. Her hand was warm, like a ray of sunlight just for him. He conjured a tiny blue wisp so he could gaze on her lovely face, and he saw she was crying. Claws dug into his chest. "What's wrong?" he asked. He should have been ecstatic to find her here, waiting for him, but instead he felt tingly and ill.

"I had to pass the First Enchanter's office to get here," she said in a strangled whisper. "I shouldn't have, but… I couldn't help but stay and listen." She turned her teary eyes up to his face and her clutch tightened around his wrist. "Your friend, the elf."

"Neria?"

"Yes, her," Lily said with an impatient wave of her other hand. She'd never cared much for Jowan's friendship with Neria Surana, no matter how much he told Lily that she was the golden one, the only one he ever wanted. "She's being Harrowed tonight."

Jowan blinked, speechless. He and Neria had talked about the secretive ritual many times. It marked you as a true Mage of the Circle. And now Neria was going for her Harrowing. No one ever spoke about the outcome of the Harrowing; if you passed, you passed and that was it. If you didn't...

"I'm glad for her," he said, but his voice shook.

"You're scared for her, too," Lily said.

He shrugged and leaned against the wall, pulling her close to him so he could focus on the feeling of Lily against him while his heart raced. "I am. She's my friend and I don't want to see her die, or be made Tranquil." He inhaled deeply, eyes closed. Lily always smelled warm and spicy from the incense she carried, but he never thought of it as something religious; it was just her. "And I guess I'm jealous," he finally admitted. "It's getting a bit awkward being surrounded by kids fifteen years younger than I am." He tried to laugh. It sounded like a grunt.

"There's something else," she said, her voice so small and scared that she sounded like she could break. "And what's worse, I think it's my fault." She shook and clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle her oncoming sob.

Jowan felt cold all over. A Cone of Cold would have felt warm at this point.

"They think… that you're practicing blood magic." She clutched the front of his blue apprentice robes. "You disappear so often and… they want to make you Tranquil."