The Inquisitor woke to screams and immediately rolled from her bed to land on the floor, dagger in hand. Dorian was sitting up in her bed, raw magic swirling in a frenzy around him, his hands clutching at his head. The screaming had stopped but he was staring wide-eyed, unseeing, at the blankets.

"Dorian?" she asked tentatively, half crawling back onto the bed. She reached a hand forward but drew it back with a cry as magical fire lashed out and burnt her palm. She looked down at the wound then back up at him.

"Dorian!" she shouted. The mage didn't seem to hear her as she called his name over and over again. Finally she took a deep breath, pulled her arms up to cover her face, and threw herself through the wall of magic. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, whispering softly in his ear as she tried to pull him out of whatever he was going through.

Suddenly his voice broke through her whispers, quiet and hoarse, "Amatus?" Her eyes flew open, and she drew back quickly. He looked confused, though it quickly changed as he noticed the burns all over her.

"What happened? Are you alright?" he demanded, quickly scanning the room before looking at her. She stared at him, unable to utter a word. He doesn't know. Those words kept running through her brain as he fussed over her.

"Dorian," she finally managed to say. The mage looked at her face. "What were you dreaming about?" His eyes darted away.

"To be honest I don't remember. I just remember waking up to find you holding me and asking me to come back. Why?" he said softly. She sat back, wincing as she became fully aware of her injuries.

"You were screaming. A vortex of magic surrounded you and you couldn't seem to hear anything. The only way to get to you was to plunge through a wall of fire," she began but her mouth closed as she saw the horrified look on his face.

"You mean I did all of this to you?" he whispered.

"It's not your fault!" she began but he was already turning away, dropping his legs out of the bed.

"Maker, what have I done?" he mumbled as he put his face in his hands.

"It wasn't you, Dorian. I know that," she said, putting her hands on his shoulders. He stood and pulled away from her.

"It doesn't matter. Magic getting away from me like that, behaving like that, it's not normal and it's not ok," he said, fingers anxiously running through his hair as he paced.

"Dorian."

"You don't understand! Things like that are why people fear mages! Things like that allow demons to take control," Dorian shouted. The Inquisitor drew back at the rage in his voice. He turned to her, tears in his eyes.

"What if I had killed you? If I'd woken up and you were dead at my side because of my magic… I couldn't forgive myself, and Cullen and Cassandra," he broke off with a shudder as he turned back around. Slowly the Inquisitor came to stand behind him. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"But you didn't, Dorian. I'll be alright, I've been hurt worse by magic before," she said. He shook his head.

"That's not the point."

"No. But I don't think the point you are trying to make is right either," she said softly. He turned to her.

"What do you mean?"

"You said yourself this isn't normal. What could cause this, Dorian?" she said. He hesitated for a minute.

"I actually don't know. I've not really heard about anything like it," he said.

"Then maybe Cullen or Cassandra-"

"They'll want to lock me up if we go to them," Dorian spat.

"Then perhaps Solas is worth a try," she replied calmly. Dorian shook his head and returned to sit on the bed.

"I don't know. I truly don't," he muttered, his head in his hands. She racked her brain for someone, anyone who might know what was happening. And then it hit her. She rushed to get dressed.

"What are you doing?"

"Wait here. I'll be back soon," she replied as she rushed down the stairs and out the door.