Hi, Chapter 3 has come up, and it's a bit longer than I wanted it to be, but there you go! Hopefully everything is worthwhile and important.
Once again, my great thanks to Gaspode for yet another review that made my day! Also thank you to Varya Ithilfin for putting me on favourites and Walking One for putting me on alert. Hopefully this chapter will keep everyone interested!
I've written in italics for the Fade bits, just to make it a little more unreal, if that makes any kind of sense to you. Just say if its off-putting and I'll change it round.
Once again, thank you for reading!
Light, oh Maker the light…she held to it as long as she could, clasping it in her spreading fingers, screwing her eyes tight so that all she could see was its fading brilliance, and feel the warmth of its wings around her, but it was already departing from her, and an entirely darker reality intruded upon her as it did. She knew at once that she no longer stood in the Tower, or at least her mind no longer inhabited those familiar climes. Her living breathing body lay back in the Chamber, in Cullen's arms, but she could feel no connection to it. Her mind, all that made her Lillian Amell, was here; the Fade …the mystical realm of spirits, of dream, of half-real things. She had stepped through the Veil living, and she stood on forbidden ground. The first thing she was aware of was her body…or at least the form that clothed her here, in all senses identical to that which she had left, but for the fact that this body was not a real one. It was a dream, as much a dream as the ground on which she stood. Simply because she expected herself to be clothed in these thin, bony limbs, this slender, girlish body, even the rough robes she normally wore, all of it had been spun from her mind in the Fade, a realm where expectation, belief, governed reality. But even though everything was familiar and correct, it still seemed slightly wrong; touch, sense, were slightly faded and unreal, as though she felt everything through a slight veil. For one obvious thing, she smelled nothing…not even air, and the silence was absolute. And she breathed, because she expected to breathe, but the air had no substance.
She opened her eyes, and the Fade met her gaze. Space, impossible space, was the first thing that struck her. Living her whole life in the shadowed, enclosed safety of the corridors of the Circle Tower had left her with an extraordinary sensitivity to space that she hadn't even realised until now. But the Fade, the Fade was infinite. Space surrounded her, intoxicated her, sickened and exhilarated her, the sky above her and beyond and beneath the platform on which she stood was one vast infinity without form or variation, without depth. The sallow, weak light that lit the scene poured from above, from everywhere, from no localised source. She seized hold of herself immediately, this was a test, her Harrowing…she couldn't let the dream-like unreality stay her. Carefully she assessed her more immediate setting, ignoring the lurch when her gaze strayed once again to the infinite sky. She stood on a floating platform, a platform set in nothingness, organic in form, it curved and warped like some gruesome plant. It was a half-real fusion of natural and unnatural, pieces of buildings flowed into the earth, or reared out against the sky, vaguely plant-like forms grew into rock and back again, nothing was fixed or complete. The unease she felt as she tried to travel along the platform with her gaze was enough to make her head ache. Colours were uncertain, shifting, like something viewed through mist and form itself warped at the edge of her sight. There were other platforms distant out there in the nothingness, floating in the void, other places in the Fade, but they were even more uncertain and shifted, half here and half not at all. But there was a single fixed path onward…a bridge that led down the way across the aching void below to other platforms in the emptiness…clearly she was meant to take it. Her demon, her trial awaited. But she couldn't take a step forward without risking a single look up at the vast structure that actually seemed to break the void, the only thing that seemed solid and unchanging in the Fade. It loomed within the nothingness like a nightmare, impossibly distant on a non-existent horizon but perfectly visible, so black it seemed formed of shadow, a forest of towers, spiked and cold. The Black City…she felt a chill even here.
"And there…I saw the Black City, its towers for ever stained" Andraste's words came to her lips automatically, and the sound in the silence startled her out of the dark reverie. She had to go, the longer she tarried, the more the unreality of the Fade seeped into her, sapped her will, distracted her…when she most needed to be alert to its tricks. She slowly stepped forward, her steps were whispers on the ground that beneath them shifted from bare stone to earth to a mass of still leaves. But the Black City was always above her.
Lillian sagged unconsciously against Cullen, and he held her limp body awkwardly with one arm across her waist to hold her up against her, keeping the blade across her throat with the other, though the hilt seemed impossibly heavy. This was his third Harrowing in this position, and the other Templars had promised that they got easier, but this time the burden had never seemed more precious or harder to bear. His body swam in confusing sensations, and the prayers he murmured to steady himself were sluggish and uncertain. Thankfully the armour stood between them, but somehow at the moments of his most intense weakness it still seemed as though they were touching. He was aghast at how thin she was, how delicate. It felt as though an indelicate touch would break her apart. His hold seemed impossibly harsh, his hands were cumbersome and unwieldy as he tried as tenderly as he could to steady her, letting her fall more comfortably against the curve of his cuirass rather than upon the armour of his shoulder.
"Cullen, has she stirred yet?" The First Enchanter had been pacing restlessly up and down the Chamber for the last half an hour since Lillian had gone under. Now he paused near to them, and peered anxiously through his pinched eyes at his insentient apprentice. He wasn't required to be here at all, but every time Cullen had undertaken his grim part in the Harrowing Irving had remained there in the shadows, a silent sentinel to whatever end came to the apprentice, success or…possession and death. Never had he been as agitated as he was now. He must really love Lillian, it occurred to Cullen, and the thought was a strangely uncomfortable one.
"Nothing, First Enchanter" He started, realising he'd been asked a question, and found himself automatically saluting again. He almost dropped Lillian in his haste, and quickly gathered her up again, blushing furiously as the First Enchanter blinked at him. Thankfully his sword arm remained steady from long training, he'd had to hold it here for hours on other, longer Harrowings, and though it ached he could never let it fall.
"Maker preserve her" Irving muttered absently, then resumed his pacing. Cullen nodded tightly, yes, Maker preserve her, wherever she walked now…
"Someone else thrown to the wolves…" Lillian Amell stood in the Fade, the realm of dreams. She stood on an impossible platform, upon a narrow pathway over the void, and on each side there was a vast precipice down to the nothingness below. Amidst all the unbelievable things around her, she found herself now facing up to a rather oversized mouse. A talking mouse. It was not what she'd been expecting, not in the slightest. "As fresh and unprepared as ever" The mouse said, its nose twitching as it spoke, in the halting, nervous tones of an earnest young man. It was rather an adorable little thing, not like the rats that haunted the dark corners of the tower, this one had a pert little nose, and downy fur. But it was still a mouse, a talking mouse. "But it doesn't matter, it's always the same" It continued "They did it to me, they did it to you, it's not right, what the Templars have set up here" Now that was curious, if a little blasphemous. This was certainly not the demon she had come to face.
"Are you…a mage?" She murmured, and the mouse gave a curious motion that was rather like a shrug.
"I was, once…" It said "And I could be so again, perhaps…for you" Suddenly its form dissolved in a blooming of light,, light that was almost too bright to bear except for the curious blurring qualities of the Fade. As it burned with the magic its very form shifted, grew, blossomed upwards until it stood before her a figure sketched in light, standing to Lillian's height. Then the light was gone, and she was facing a rather small, rather mousy young man. He wore a mage's robes, red and orange, silky as was the fashion but even Lillian could tell these were trying far too hard. His auburn shoulder length hair was too greasy to affect the wind-swept glamour it tried to cultivate, and his face was blotchy with freckles. "Allow me to welcome you to the Fade" He spread his arms, an ironic, almost sardonic, note to the gesture accompanying the bitterness in his voice. "You can call me…well…Mouse"
"But, surely that's not your real name?" Lillian glanced at him more closely. She didn't recognise him. But he could have been anyone, there were dozens of mages like him. What was he doing trapped out here, wandering around in a mouse's body?
"I don't know my name anymore" He looked sheepish "I've forgotten nearly everything, from before. It's this place, you know…it slowly saps all you are from you. I've spent so long hiding, being small, trying to escape the demons that haunt this place that hiding is all I've become. Hence that disagreeable little mouse; a nifty little trick to get you out of a spot of trouble here. It's the only reason I've survived." He shrugged again, and Lillian remembered what Irving had whispered to her about the Fade. Your will shaped what you were…was it possible that you could even change your own shape, occupy another form? Yes…if you believed it enough. "You make me remember slightly however" He observed softly "May I travel with you a little longer? I should like to see how you fare at least"
"Of course" Lillian said, what did she have to lose? He knew the Fade, he might be able to help her on her way. And some small conversation, even as unsettling as what Mouse could offer was, would aid her at least a little. If she was to face a demon, she would have to reign in all her passions, be as holy and righteous and dutiful as she could. Fear was itself a vice, when the Maker ordained a duty to be followed, and so she should find her courage. If a little company helped her do that, there was no sin in that.
"Thank you" Mouse inclined his head "My chance was long ago, but you might have a way out" She nodded, and as she moved away he began to follow, slotting in place beside her. He didn't turn back into a mouse quite yet, but retained the form of the rather gangly young mage, and he seemed to be looking at her expectantly. Well…if he wished to talk…
"How did you get trapped here anyway?" Lillian asked
"The Templars murdered me, of course" Mouse's voice grew animated, fiery as he spoke, for the first time and a flush stained his blotchy cheeks. "And they'll do the same for you. If you take too long, even if its because you're just scared, or…or…trying to work up the courage to face that thing they have chained up and waiting, they kill you anyway. Even if you're not possessed." He glanced away, out into the infinite expanse, and instantly he mellowed again. Lillian was aghast at what he'd said, but even so she noticed that his anger passed as quickly as it had come. Perhaps he had even too little energy left for the outburst to be anything other than short. But it was curious, he seemed as unreal as anything else here. "That's what they did to me" He admitted softly "I think. I have no body to reclaim anymore. And you don't have much time before you end up the same"
"The Templars must have made some kind of mistake" Lillian ventured cautiously, though she felt a ripple of horror run through her at the thought of what Mouse claimed. No one had told her about any kind of time limit. Surely the First Enchanter or the Knight-Commander…one of them would have mentioned it? But selfishness didn't really become her well, when Mouse needed her sympathy at least. It couldn't be true, the Templars wouldn't do something like that, Cullen wouldn't…besides, Mouse didn't really seem sure what had happened to his body, maybe he was the one making a mistake? But how else to explain it, he had lost his Harrowing clearly, and yet he was not possessed.
"This whole test is a monstrosity" Mouse sighed, with an exhausted, sardonic laugh that somehow mocked her naivety. "What's one more outrage?" He glanced at her with clearer eyes, eyes that were actually a rather pleasant green
"You're wrong, you know" Lillian said, with some spirit. Normally she shied away from conflict, even the friendly debates that sometimes came about in the apprentice dorms, but Mouse's bleak resignation was easier to face than the anger and mockery with which some mages approached the Chantry. "The Templars are good people." She continued, trying not to falter though she saw a flash of naked scepticism, almost anger, rush across his features. Perhaps if he realised the truth, that there must have been something gone wrong in Harrowing, that the Templars wouldn't just kill someone because they'd taken too long, he could stop haunting this place in his bitterness, find some way to move on. She immediately thought of Cullen, he'd know what to say. "I know some of them…my friend…Cullen…"
"Cullen, you say?" Mouse shook his head, bleakly, despairingly, and she fell silent immediately, shocked once again, that he clearly recognised the name. "Are you certain he's your friend?" Mouse murmured "Cullen was the Templar who killed me"
"Don't pretend you aren't keeping time to the second, Greagoir" Irving wheeled around, the open frustration in his voice was astonishing, and even the two helmeted Templars, silent and severe observers, stirred with surprise. The argument between First Enchanter and Knight-Commander had been going on for some time, on some pretext Cullen no longer remembered, but that Lillian was at its centre. He'd never seen Irving challenge Greagoir before, and normally he would have watched avidly, but Lillian's continuing closeness kept unsettling him. His awareness of her body, rather than easing as the first hour had gone by, had only grown more intense. "Waiting for the moment you deem fit to slaughter her like an animal, even if she is innocent" Irving spat and Cullen shifted uneasily himself, finding the Enchanter's words struck too close to the bone. The Harrowing was a perilous business, and a deeply imprecise test, but it was the only way they knew to keep the Circle, and the world safe. The Templars had their duty, and that duty included slaying the mages who failed. But sometimes failure wasn't as obvious as the first horrific stirrings of possession, something Cullen had thankfully never witnessed. Sometimes mages stayed under too long, hours would go by, with them unstirring, unwaking, and that was when things grew uncertain. And uncertainty could not be tolerated, not when the safety of every unsuspecting mage below in the Tower was at stake. If it came to that…when the hours shifted past a point when delay would become dangerous, when it became possible that the sleeping mage had either already lost or had become the cocoon of a demon, perhaps a means of subterfuge for one of the more powerful and devious to escape past the Templar's vigilance, then the blow would be struck regardless. It was perhaps the hardest part of the Templar's duty, knowing that the blood you spilled might well be an innocent. One of Cullen's Harrowings had ended that way. But he had done his duty then, though the nightmares had haunted him for weeks afterwards, he would have to do it now though he knew the blow would kill him too.
"I do what I must" Greagoir shook his head, squaring his shoulders as he sensed a challenge to his authority. Rarely did the First Enchanter, normally so wise to the compromises of the Tower, allow himself to be so openly at odds with his colleague. "As do we all, for the Maker's glory" He fixed the First Enchanter in a cold glare "You've allowed your sentiment for the child to blind you Irving" He accused, and Cullen felt the insult brush rather too close to his own doubts. "But we can't let down our vigilance. Favourite or not, she goes through the same test as any other, and if she fails it will be by the same token" Greagoir glanced at Cullen, and met his young student's gaze. Cullen was in awe of his mentor, and found the commander's involvement in his own training humbling. He'd always vowed to justify Greagoir's faith in him, but never had he felt that Greagoir's gaze was as hard and uncompromising as it was now. This was the face of the Templars, the face of necessity, and he was vowed to it. Lillian was nothing but a temptation to be overcome, that necessity demanded…if only he could force himself to believe that. "Cullen knows what he is doing" Greagoir said softly
"Yes, your apprentice holds a sword to the throat of mine" Irving's voice broke as he staggered away. "How terrible the mercy of the Templars…" Cullen felt sickened suddenly. The thought of his blade slicing across Lillian's beautiful, fragile neck was unbearable, when he knew he should be able to face it with regret, but unflinching resolve. That was what he'd trained for, why he'd come here, to protect people from what Lillian would become if he let down his guard over her for a second. This was the evil of…his maddening affection for her, how could he have let her undermine his vigilance so completely? How could it not be a sin? He held her tighter against him, so tight he knew that his armour would press against her flesh, and he prayed, as silence fell once again over the vast chamber, and they waited, waited for the doomed hour to pass.
"This is such a strange place" Lillian remarked softly, as the mismatched pair of mages made their way down along the impossible causeway. The path was winding, and looping, somehow hooking around itself several times, and everywhere twisted structures, organic and artificial at once, accompanied their path, raking the sky with skeletal fingers. Colourless flowers bloomed from the stone, dry, drab and partly fossilised things that even the press of her foot didn't seem to bend or break. There was yet no sight of the demon, or sense of danger. But regardless Lillian had to keep herself constantly alert in case the creeping soporific influence of the Fade seeped too close. She felt strange sensations even now, things she couldn't quite escape or pin down no matter how intently she focused on the path ahead, whispers, touches…so soft they were like dreams, and barely real. She couldn't pin them down, she couldn't say what she thought she heard in the voices, or where exactly something she couldn't see brushed past her…but one above all remained keen in her mind. She felt like…she was watched, and whoever observed her had no dark intent, it was simply curious…
"Don't be fooled" Mouse answered bitterly "There's nothing beautiful here" She glanced at him, curiously. He was scowling again, a bitter, sour scowl that didn't suit the youthful earnestness of his features. How long had he lingered here, she wondered, until time itself seemed to no longer matter? How easy it would be to simply give in as he had…she strangled that thought before it had any power, murmuring another prayer under her breath to focus herself on what was important. She was going to succeed in this test, the Maker would guide her. She felt the thrill of faith touch her a moment, she was closer to Him, now, here in the Fade, than she had ever been before. The only time she ever felt truly, completely safe was when she was alone with Him in the utter silence of her mind and the sublime touched her a moment across the veil. That was the only time she felt safe, except when she was with Cullen. The thought sprung upon her unawares when she was at her most open and it shook her so much that she lost all sense of the silent prayer in her head. Cullen…why Cullen now? She felt a stab of shockingly sweet pain down to her core as she remembered that Cullen was holding her even now, with his blade at her neck. And then she remembered Mouse's accusation, and she felt a stab deep down. She'd always known the grim side of the Templar's duty, and accepted it, but it was different facing it now, facing someone who'd been subjected to it, by her friend. "Are you alright?" Mouse murmured, there was something strange in his voice, or was it that everything in this strangest of worlds was made strange anew with the thought of Cullen and how deep it went?
"Yes…I am" She shook her head, trying to clear it, and rubbed her arms, feeling satin that was more the dream of satin than anything else, especially as she had begun this test wearing only linen. Still something felt wrong, she still felt…like she was observed, like they both were under observation. Was that a glimmer of light dancing around at the edge of her vision, no it was gone. "Are…we really alone here?" She murmured.
"Yes…" Mouse shrugged "Apart from your demon" He shot Lillian a considering glance, and his eyes were pinched and hard, more the eyes of a greedy rodent than a human. "I've seen it before now, you know" He muttered "It is contained just along this pathway, waiting for you…and he hungers most desperately, such a terrible wrath in him" Lillian shuddered, she would have been better spared that knowledge, and something was unsettling her about Mouse regardless. He seemed to be shifting with the Fade around them, one moment friendly, and the next curiously hard and flat. But his words were frightfully true, she forced herself to think again about the demon alone, and glanced down at her empty hands. If only she had some kind of weapon with her…just to help her fight the creature off, so she didn't have to rely on her magic alone. Her magic, she felt it coiling within her even now, a glow under her skin. Irving, Wynne, all the enchanters had coaxed her endlessly, lesson after lesson, use it, learn to wield it, their voices rose in her mind and she fought the only way she could. She thought of the hours she'd spent in the Chantry on her knees in her younger years, her teeth and fingers clenched, trying to resist it, but it always had its way. She'd resigned herself to it in the end, and gone obediently through every lesson, but she'd never allowed it to any further than what the enchanter asked, though she sensed sometimes, lying awake in bed with the stir of it in her soul, that it could go frighteningly far beyond anything they wanted. The worst thing was how much she'd come to enjoy learning its ways, a vice she couldn't rid herself of no matter how hard she tried. So she simply had set rigidly enforced boundaries upon her magic, and the thought of giving into it entirely, even now, in this grim test, was fearful. But…as she turned her head she heard something, another whisper fluttered past her ear, stronger than before, more insistent, but again so distant, so strange and so quiet that she couldn't quite decipher what it said, though it teased her on the edge of understanding. Somehow though…the merest sense of it lightened her burden just a little. Something was with her in this fearful place, she was sure of that, no matter how strange it sounded. And that was a small comfort…at least…
"What makes her so different?" Greagoir accused coldly, once the silence had worn on for another cold and empty hour. Cullen blinked, shifting again, and even the slight movement had the delicate, unconscious Lillian falling against his shoulder. He gently gathered her up again and the hollow ache of her closeness was renewed all over again. He'd fought bitterly for hour after hour, and still her nearness was a constant trial. "You have always accepted our charge" Greagoir stepped from the shadows into the shifting moonlight, a cold and hard figure, he looked like he was carved from marble. For a reeling moment Cullen, still blurred by Lillian, wondered if Greagoir was actually addressing him, and the ground fell away as he imagined what would happen if his sin came to light. But it was Irving, in reality, whom Greagoir faced across the chamber. Cullen and Lillian were ignored. "You've accepted our work." The Knight-Commander continued and again Cullen remembered how every other Harrowing had been a nearly silent affair. "Why her? Why now?"
"I have compromised with your charge, your work" Irving answered, he was in the shadows, and the creeping darkness around him gave him a hollow intensity. "Because I had no choice, because it is what this position demands." He sighed "But perhaps I've seen too many deaths in this Chamber…"
"No Irving" Greagoir shook his head "She was already held back from this test far too long at your insistence. You insisted she had unique abilities that required nurturing, and we indulged you." Cullen's ears pricked up, he couldn't help it, though he knew curiosity beyond what the Order permitted him to know was discouraged. Lillian had 'unique abilities'…? "I am Knight-Commander Irving…" Greagoir pressed "I demand to know why"
"Because I have failed her" Irving answered "I still do not know what truly happened to her, but something in this Tower destroyed any chance she had. I fear…someone here has abused her…" He glanced at Lillian, lying back against Cullen, and his eyes glittered intently from the shadows. Cullen unconsciously crossed his arm closer around Lillian, shielding her from the old man's eyes, from what Irving seemed to be saying. Lillian…was safe, wasn't she? Cullen had watched over her so carefully. "This place is supposed to be safe. What can we offer them if we cannot even give them safety?" He murmured desolately.
"You knew the risks" Greagoir growled. "You chose this"
"I fear for her so…she has such a great power, no demon will be able to resist her" Irving looked away, but even his mumbling under his breath carried in the absolute silence. "But she's never allowed herself to unlock her potential. She's always been so hesitant, always doubting herself…the Chantry got to her too soon, too deep" Cullen tensed, did Irving even know who he was talking to? Somehow it didn't seem like he did. But Lillian, what was he raving about, there was nothing wrong with her, she was obedient, faithful, humble, everything a mage should be. If that didn't win the Harrowing…Cullen shuddered, and the sword pressed once again against Lillian's throat. If that didn't win the Harrowing, she would die the same as any other. Maker…he thought of the apprentice he'd had to kill, suddenly, devastatingly. She had been a young elf girl…barely as tall as Cullen's shoulder, blonde, pretty in a way that hadn't touched Cullen then, but which he remembered now with an ache of anguish. "We're supposed to protect them, these children" Irving mumbled emptily, and Cullen couldn't stop himself feeling sorry for him. "Child, Lillian…forgive me"
"She will live or she will die" Greagoir spread his hands, there was no hope in his voice, no grief, or sympathy either. "It is in the Maker's hands now" He was entirely detached from the human Lillian fighting so peacefully in Cullen's arms. Even Irving's sorrow didn't touch him. That was the way Templars were meant to be. Cullen breathed deeply, and felt Lillian's lovely hair brush over his neck…like she was meant to be here, in his arms. By the Maker…
"We're here…" Mouse muttered at last, he'd been silent for much of the latter part of their ascent up the whirling pathway towards the arena where Lillian knew she would face her fate. All around them were half-formed things, stones carved with unsettling runes, structure leaning luridly into space, ornate pillars that supported nothing, and worst of all the unfinished statues all of which had a palpable air of wrongness about them. But the way onward was clear enough, the path led down towards a little hollow suspended in the void, enclosed by cliffs and as yet still invisible behind the last curve of the path. The demon was waiting there. She could almost taste its wrongness on the air, a bitter taste, acrid and acidic… "The creature waits below" Mouse glanced at her intently, the press of his gaze was almost something palpable on her cheek. "Are you ready?"
"I am" Lillian lowered her head, though truly she wasn't. Doubt plagued her, how could she stand against a demon with what small power she had? What if…it got in her head? What if it spoke with voices she knew? She had tried so hard, but what if she hadn't tried hard enough? What if she was still too sinful to resist it?
"Do not…doubt" Mouse murmured. "You have a great power, Lillian. I sensed that from the start. Already your presence has changed this place, has changed me" Lillian started, glancing at him with shock. What did he mean? "I begin to remember, Lillian…" Mouse's smile was hollow, but his words were insidious. "I begin to believe. I think…I shall fight with you when the battle comes, and I do not think it shall be as a mouse."
"You will?" Lillian clasped her hands, relief rushing through her. So much so that she ignored the palpable unease around Mouse now. At least…she wouldn't be alone.
"Yes…" Mouse grinned. "I think you've given me a chance, Lillian. To help you…maybe even a chance for me" He reached forward, and took her hand in his. She started at his touch. His fingers were cool, dry…and yet…somewhat wrong. There was something wrong. "Shall we go in together?" He leaned in, and somehow his will pressed in on her. Something in her raged against her weakness, and against him, but once again she felt a dull compulsion to accept, to obey. Helplessly, she nodded…and with Mouse leading her, she walked into the testing place.
The arena, the site of Lillian's true Harrowing, if nothing else here had in fact been a test as well as she was beginning to suspect it was, was a small bowl scooped from the floating cliffs. It was, if anything, more bare and lifeless than the rest of the Fade, the ground under her feet was a fine, glistening sand. There were fires too…fires that gave no smoke or heat…and she and Mouse passed through a wall of flame without harm, him leading her onward. It was also empty. And then, as she stepped in, something stirred at the centre of the arena, a fire lighting there from no fuel…rising from the ground, unfurling, burning. The sense of wrongness grew more intense, more acrid, more hateful, it reeled in Lillian's heart, sickening her to the core. And then…it rose from the ashes. She knew at once that this was her foe. It was a burning form, sketched in fire, its very skin seemed molten, shifting, changing, in the sluggish way of a liquid metal. Its form was not remotely human either; its body ran down into the floor, like some burning, impossibly large slug, formed only of amorphous lava. At the start it had no features to speak of, nothing was constant in the burning, shifting heat of its body, but its head was large and bulbous, and as the two mages stared at it, two baleful eyes, giving way to a white-hot core appeared there and appraised them. It had arms, also…dripping with flame, and wickedly sharp claws appeared at their end. It was a demon, a demon…of rage.
"So…you come at last, mageling" It had no mouth to speak of, but somehow a booming voice arose from it, teeming with a barely contained anger. "I have waited for a long while for you…why did you tarry so long?" She didn't answer, what answer could she give? She simply stared at it, in horror. "It is no matter, soon I shall see the world of the living with your eyes." The creature oozed with delight at the prospect. "You shall be mine, dear Lillian, body and soul." It sniffed the air, or at least made some motion comparable to that, and a loathsome, hoarse sound like an inhalation came from it. "But what a pitiful soul, though there are embers of wrath…perhaps enough to kindle" It turned its head sideways. "Imagine, dear Lillian, Petra, Kinnon, those brazen little fools who know nothing of sacrifice…" It growled, and Lillian shuddered at the reminder of those times when anger had come to her. Sweet Maker, this creature knew her. "All of them punished for their mockery, their secret laughter as you pass, their glamour, their brazenness." It leaned in, its voice might have been meant to be a seductive whisper of promise, but it could only manage a hoarse growl. She felt a sudden exhaustion, this temptation had no power over her…oh thank the Maker, she had little wrath anyway. She was too weak for it. "Imagine their fear…" The creature went on oblivious "Lillian, I can give you that" She shook her head mutely, and it blinked with surprise.
"Such a pitiful temptation, creature" Mouse laughed brazenly, as though it were him being tested. "Lillian has no wrath in her heart, her sins are otherwise. Come, now let us fight you and let this be done with"
"Mouse?" The demon hissed "But…our bargain…our arrangement" It flailed its arms with agitation, and with a rising anger. "You brought this one for me to feed on, like the others, did you not?" Lillian felt a stab of agony, oh Maker, no…Mouse had been a trap! Or had he? Something was wrong here, more wrong than even the betrayal…oh Maker…help her!
"Our arrangement is done with" Mouse grinned with a sickening triumph.
"So the little mouse has a spine after all" The demon sneered "I will enjoy feasting on you as well"
"Not a mouse anymore" The mage raised his hands, and that light arose around him. His form shifted, changed, and grew, under that blinding light he collapsed, curling on to all fours, but still growing, growing until he dwarfed Lillian standing next to him. The demon hissed, seethed…and suddenly the light was gone, and beside Lillian there was a massive bear. It was huge, its fur brown and matted, its claws and its teeth vast and deadly sharp. But its eyes still glistened with Mouse's soul. Sweet Maker…what was this? "Don't you recognise your own work, Lillian?" The bear spoke, with Mouse's voice "You taught me to believe…and here I am to repay the favour by killing this pitiful little wretch"
"Enough! I will seize this mage's body by force then!" The demon roared, and in an instant, thrusting itself forward, it powered at Lillian with its deadly, burning claws extended. She flung herself from its path, landing in the sand in a heap. And then suddenly Mouse was in front of it, rearing up on all fours so he dwarfed even it, and flailing with his vast claws to strike it, hard. A glutinous, burning dollop of fire was torn from its face, landing inches from Lillian, smoking and flailing on the floor. The creature howled, all animalistic, all anger, and its burning face gave way to a seething, molten mass. It tried to strike back, and Mouse fell back to safety, his impossibly loud rumbling growl shaking the arena and Lillian alike. The two behemoths circled slowly…and then the rage demon struck, wicked-fast, its claws tearing into Mouse's face and leaving smoking, searing burns behind. Mouse howled and Lillian couldn't help but scream alongside him. Whatever else was going on, whatever else Mouse had done to survive here, she had to do something, this was her test. She leapt to her feet, extending her hand towards the fight. And she brought her magic to bear. A faint blue glow arose around her and as she concentrated harder, spectral, glimmering, smoky swathes of light travelled down her arm, circling, winding around it. This was magic of the Spirit School, the subtle, ephemeral school that trained to shape the very energy of the invisible forces of the Fade, that which she was most familiar with wielding, and here in the Fade, more powerful than ever before. And…the power thrilled and hummed inside her, and she welcomed it. "What…?" The demon roared, suddenly distracted, and fixing her in its beady gaze. "What…are you?" It sniffed again, loathsomely "How dare you conceal this power! I will tear it from you!" Mouse was completely ignored now, even as his jaw snapped forward and tore another strip of burning flesh from the creature's side. But when he tried to leap and tear the creature down, the demon slipped away with one smooth, squelching movement, and went for Lillian. She didn't flinch this time, this time she would stand and fight!
Spirit energy swept around her, enfolding her in an aurora of rippling blue and white light. And, embraced within its light, she felt the power inside the demon…the force that animated it, the burning, scorching fury at its heart. Attacking its body was so unsubtle, so futile in comparison…it was rage itself, it would simply renew itself and the battle would be a hard and brutal one. But what if…it could be attacked at the very core of its being? She sent a tendril of magic towards it, indifferent to its advance. Its body meant nothing, she realised, just like everything else in the Fade…its true self was simply the force of anger itself, and she could extinguish it. She knew what to do. Smiling as the demon raced towards her, hands outstretched, and then with a simple flick of her fingers, and an outpouring of magic that shuddered from her into the creature, she put out its rage. It grounded to a halt instantly, paused…and something in its burning features looked confused. Then the light arose within it, a cool, blue radiance searing through its suddenly crumbling features, sweeping, burning around it, flowering in great tides of brightness until it couldn't even be glimpsed in the midst of the paroxysm around it. And then it exploded. Lillian leapt back, stumbling, from the fall of fire and burning dollops of demon flesh, thankfully escaping unscathed by the blast. Gasping with sudden exhaustion, she fell back on her knees, stunned by what she'd just accomplished. How had she done it? Never had her magic seemed so easy, or so…powerful! And…she'd killed the demon…simply like that! Maker save her…this was what the First Enchanter had been trying to teach her all along, to manipulate the very essence of the spirit, mana, magic, life itself…the most subtle forces of all. Primal Magic which was so much more common, so much showier, than her own…it could never have accomplished anything like that.
"You did it!" Mouse loped towards her, transforming in mid stride into the gangly young man with staggering ease. He stopped just in front of her, beaming broadly. "I've seen so many apprentices try and fail…" He gabbled with excitement "Just shooting fire or ice at the damned thing…even the ones who win just do it by brute force, but you…you realised right away what the truth of the Fade is! You were born to walk this world Lillian!"
"Mouse…you…betrayed other apprentices" She stumbled back away from him, fear suddenly burning in her chest as the demon's brutal words ran through her mind over and over again. "You led them here, let him…eat them"
"They…were nothing, weak, unremarkable fools" Mouse sneered "But you, you're different Lillian." She must have looked utterly aghast, though she was almost too shocked to feel anything else, for Mouse amended his demeanour, looking insincerely regretful. She suddenly realised how false every emotion Mouse had shown was… "I mean…I did what I had to do, to survive here" He protested "They would have died anyway, none of them were strong enough." His green eyes suddenly burned with fervour "The Templars set them up to fail, just like they did with you" He crowed "But how could those fools ever realise what a true mage is, what you are Lillian!" Lillian felt sickened to the core…oh Maker, what monster had she uncovered? What was Mouse, really? "Listen, Lillian" Mouse crouched down in front of her. She couldn't pull back, though her mind screamed at her to escape him, she was too shocked, too appalled. "You can be so much more than you know, than you even dream. And there's hope in that, even for someone as small and as forgotten as me" She snatched her hand away when he tried to take it, but still he went on, leaning closer, his voice growing more and more strident. "I know you can help me! I can escape from here at last, with your help" He went on, the intensity in his features was inhuman, wrong…she sensed the wrongness crawling off of him. Oh Maker…Andraste help her… "Just…want to let me in, Lillian…" He murmured, softly, sibilantly, and at that moment she realised something she'd forgotten in the misty unreality of the Fade, something she'd let him make her forget…Divines protect her…
"I never…told you my name" She gasped out, the only thing she could say, and she felt like gagging on her utterly ungovernable fear, her stomach seethed, her heart pounded…sheer terror, she'd never felt anything like this.
"Oh, Lillian" Mouse shook his head, but he suddenly looked horrifyingly please, the glee on his face was greedy and cold. "You always were a smart one" He stood, stepping back away from her, and something in his face warped and shifted under Lillian's eyes. "Magic is mastery, Lillian" When he spoke again his voice was now a bass rumble, resonant, echoing, teeming with power and seething with temptation. This…was something far more powerful than the rage demon, something far more deadly, something…terrible. She realised that it must have deceived the rage demon, led the creature to think it was weak and servile, just as it had deceived countless apprentices before her, waiting for…what? "And you are a master" It boomed in its cold voice "No mage before you has ever been so favoured, so blessed, born of a noble line" Oh Maker, this one sought to tempt her too, and it knew her, it knew her secret pride…and it knew even of her family about which she knew nothing. A noble line, oh Maker, she'd give anything to know more. She caught herself, aghast…as the creature went on with a note of satisfaction, as though it could read her struggle " You are gifted in the rarest of magic, Spirit, Creation, alike…a healer and a bringer of power, a gift to those who are so desperately unworthy, who scorn your powers and your destiny. You are pupil of the First Enchanter, who could impart to you a thousand forbidden secrets of magic if you only asked, beloved of the Templar Cullen, who would throw aside his duty and set you free from the chains of the Templars if you only begged…" Oh Maker had she ever thought that? Had she ever thought to use Cullen that way? Or was it telling the truth, about Cullen, would he…did he care for her that much? She fell back, dizzied with horror. "You could do anything Lillian Amell." Mouse was no longer even recognisable, though his vaguely human shape still held, his face was a mask, through it shone through only an unholy gleam of a towering conceit, unimaginable power. "And I can help you…Lillian, with me you will be strong, never will you fear anything ever again. I can make you safe…" Maker…
"I can't…" She pleaded, pulling herself away on the floor from the fearful vision. Oh Maker, let the test end! She'd killed the demon, she'd done what was commanded of her, let it end! Let her out of here, please dear Maker…she couldn't bear this rape of her mind, her most treasured memories, thoughts, feelings all laid bear and presented as they must appear to this creature, a seething morass of pride and conceit.
"Embrace your destiny, Lillian, join with me…" It put out its hand, its fingers were outstretched greedily towards her, even as they shifted and gave way at the edges, huge, wicked claws piercing through the facade. "Do not fear the Templars, together we will be unstoppable. We will kill Cullen before he draws the blade across your neck…"
"No!" Lillian screamed suddenly, freed of the deadly spell of the creature's voice and its terrible temptation. Cullen, not Cullen…she'd die first!
"No?" It breathed, hoarsely "No…you refuse me?" It cocked its head, looked at her sideways. "You dare refuse me?" It stormed, and suddenly Lillian knew what pride really was, empty, envious…endlessly thirsting for power, eternally unsatisfied. Even if this creature slew her here…and she could see no way of standing against it, she sensed the power running through it like a great font and knew she had no choice, at least she'd made the right choice. She'd go to the Maker…Cullen could be proud of her. "You pathetic little worm" The demon sneered, and suddenly the faint, weak humanity it still possessed gave way, and that evil light surrounded it, and it grew, grew vast…until it towered above her, a shape traced in a cold glow at which she couldn't bear to look any closer. "Look at you, a slave of the Templars, clinging to the name of your Maker as if that means anything, as if there is anything watching over you snivelling little wretches! You've wasted your power, squandered every opportunity you possibly had…" It reached down towards her, vast claws springing from its hand "Count yourself lucky that I am deigning to seize your body by force…at least then you'll be a tool for something greater than your own futile existence"
At that moment Lillian knew she was about to die, but at least she would die without giving in. It would have her body, but it would not have her soul. But then something fluttered into life between her and the loathsome creature towering above her. At first there was a glow, a slight, almost invisible pinprick of light that steadily grew larger and more powerful…it was so different to the evil, smoggy glow around the Demon of Pride, it was hale and pure instead. Lillian fell back, the Demon paused, withdrawing its hand cautiously, its evil, glowing eyes fixed intently on the being traced in light that grew…took shape…until there was something…that appeared vaguely like the form of a human, but the light around it was so bright that she could barely see through it to anything more. And it stood there, a figure in light, and it stood between her and her captor. Lillian stared up at it, and somehow she felt a palpable sense of relief rush through her, healing, gentleness…radiated from the mere sight of this strange, unknown being. "She is mine by right!" The Pride Demon hissed "How dare you intervene!" A hum began around the glowing figure, a hum that was like the strumming of a resonant harp, no…an impossibly sweet voice…no…the gentle rush of the waters of Lake Calenhad…somehow the sound rippled with every pleasant thing Lillian had ever heard, and yet gave only one achingly pure note. Somehow she knew that this being had been with her from the very beginning, had drawn near to whisper warnings to her, had brushed past her on her way, had tried to ward her away from Mouse from the start. The Pride Demon was hissing now, it flailed its vast, brutish arms but it didn't seem able to get through, and there were lights gathering around it, wisps of light that surrounded and enveloped it. It gave a roar of rage. "I'll rip you from this world, upstart!" It screamed.
"Go Lillian" Suddenly there was a voice in her head, a voice neither male nor female, neither old nor young, but unspeakably beautiful. And it vibrated with urgency. Lillian flailed, landing back in the sand with a cry. Maker, she didn't know how…! "Feel your way home, Lillian" The voice commanded, ringing in the vaults of her mind. "Feel your way back to the boy who holds you" Cullen…Cullen was holding her…she pressed down on her aching head and thought of Cullen…he flashed through her head, bright and brave and wonderful, and then there was light all around her, and the howling of the Pride Demon gave way to only the hum of the being who stood before her in the light that was somehow all around her. A laugh, a pure, beautiful, radiant laugh of joy sounded in her head, she felt a touch like a mother's kiss upon her forehead…then all was light, and her mind swam in light and abandoned itself to it. It was done...oh thank the Maker...it was over...