"Simple killing is a warrior's job. The real dangers of the Fade are preconceptions… careless trust… pride. Keep your wits about you, mage. True tests never end."

Ellis Surana woke with a start, his eyes snapping open only to see the wooden frame of the bunk above his, the final parting words of a pride demon still echoing throughout his mind. For what seemed like an absolute eternity, he simply remained there, propped up on his elbows, his chest heaving as the residual panic started to wear off and it finally began to dawn on him that he was safe. With a small, exhausted growl, he wiped his hand across his forehead, trying to clear the sweat from his brow. Suddenly, he felt like he was drowning in it.

"Hey," a voice called softly, causing his eyes to immediately snap up. "How are you doing?"

Ellis stiffened slightly at the sight of the other young mage sitting at the end of his bunk, watching him with the same exhausted expression he knew was plastered across his own features as well. His mouth quickly ran dry as he realised he didn't quite know what to say to her. So instead, he just grunted and went to wipe the sleep from his eyes.

"Takes it out of you, huh?" Eisa murmured, still smiling that soft, gentle smile she always had. "You did really well last night, Ellis."

"You know I had help," he muttered, glancing away in some vain attempt to avoid her gaze. It was always weird when she complimented him like that – since they both knew she had set a standard no one, not even him, could ever live up to. People in the tower still talked about Eisa's own Harrowing, about how quick and smooth and clean it was, how she was a natural at almost everything when it came to magic, how she was so talented and so strong and so brave and so confident in her abilities; the epitome of what all mages should be. There was a reason she was the First Enchanter's star pupil, after all.

She nodded. "So did I. Something that sadly can't be avoided with us, it seems."

That much was true. It had always been like that, really. One of them couldn't seem to enter the Fade without the other six getting dragged along too. The amount of times they'd accidentally invaded each other's dreams… well. That had just been a fact of their existence for as long as any of them could remember. Their dreams had been the first place they'd lost any and all semblance of privacy, the first part of each other's lives where others had started to show up. He supposed he should be used to it by now.

Slowly, Ellis sat up, pulling his knees to his chest and trying to blink the exhaustion that gnawed on the edges of his mind away.

"I was expecting… I don't know. I thought it would be more like yours," he mumbled, his voice low and barely audible, but he knew she heard him.

Eisa coughed uncomfortably then and quickly made a point of staring off in the opposite direction.

"Yes," she began, her voice halting, "well. Every Harrowing is different."

"Not to mention, I've basically been cheating this entire time-"

"You didn't cheat, Ellis."

"But I knew about it beforehand," he grumbled to no one in particular. "You didn't have that. And yet your Harrowing was flawless and mine-"

"You passed," she cut across him firmly, leaning over and placing her hand reassuringly over his. "That's all that matters. It's not a competition."

"Says the girl who's brilliant at everything she does," he grumbled. "How do you even do that?"

She shrugged, all while once again refusing to meet his gaze. "Must be luck."

"Don't give me that."

"I don't know what else to tell you. There's nothing I-"

She cut off abruptly, her face screwing up into an expression Ellis couldn't quite decipher, though he could feel the hostility coming off her in waves.

"…I… have to go," she said, her posture suddenly going rigid. "You should go and see Irving."

"Eisa-"

But she was already gone.

Ellis stared absently at the space she had previously occupied, completely at a loss to say what caused her sudden departure. There was no time to consider it though, as another completely different voice called out, echoing throughout the apprentice quarters.

"Ellis!"

The elf glanced up at the sound of his name, just in time to see Jowan charging towards him, looking terrified and relieved and determined, somehow all at the same time.

"You're okay," Jowan gasped in between frantic breaths the instant he reached the bed. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Morning, Jowan," Ellis replied quietly, a small, wry smile pulling at his lips. "How was your night? Mine was wild."

Jowan simply pulled a face at that, apparently torn between relief and exasperation. It seemed to be his constant state of being these days. Once upon a time, Ellis thought the quips had been helpful, something to distract them both from everything. By the time he noticed that it wasn't quite working anymore, it had already long-since become a habit he couldn't bring himself to break.

Maybe he should feel flattered that the matter of his welfare was a serious subject for Jowan. If he was being truly honest with himself, part of him simply appreciated having someone actually show concern for him – having someone who did that because he could, not because they shared some inexplicable psychic connection.

He loved and cared for the others deeply – of course he did – but there was a strange kind of meaning in what he had with Jowan that couldn't be found anywhere else.

Jowan, his one weird scrawny human friend, who he'd almost mistaken for a fellow elf all those years ago.

"I'm okay," he affirmed quietly, his expression softening somewhat. "Just tired."

Finally, for what was probably the first time that morning, Jowan seemed to relax, the tension in his posture melting away somewhat as he practically slumped against the wooden post of Ellis' bunk.

"So?"

Ellis blinked in surprise, not really sure what Jowan was trying to prompt. "…so?"

"C'mon, you've got to tell me. What was it like?"

Ellis' brow creased. "What was what like?"

"The Harrowing!" Jowan said in a furious whisper-shout, quickly glancing around with wide eyes in case anyone was close enough to be listening in. "What else would I be asking about?"

Ellis quickly elected not to answer that, noting that Jowan didn't seem to be in the mood for humour of any kind this morning.

"I didn't even realise you were gone until I spotted the templars bringing you back to bed this morning," Jowan continued without much care for Ellis' tired, slightly pained expression. "Some apprentices don't come back at all, you know? Is it really that dangerous?"

Ellis let out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before his eyes finally flicked back up to meet his friend's.

"Jowan," he called – his voice quiet, but ultimately sharp. "Can you honestly name a single apprentice who hasn't come back from their Harrowing since either of us have been here?"

Jowan pulled back at those words, his eyes widened ever so slightly and looking a little shocked – as if his entire world view had abruptly been shifted. He glanced up for a moment, his eyes twitching from side to side as he – as Ellis assumed – struggled to come up with a name, any name, that would support his argument.

Instant regret.

He'd meant to calm Jowan down with that, not dismiss him out of hand.

"That's not fair," he managed after too long. "I've heard that in other Circles-"

"This isn't another Circle," Ellis interrupted. "Yes, it's dangerous. But everything anyone ever does is dangerous. We throw fire and lightning at each other every day. We're trained to handle that, and we're trained to handle the Harrowing. It isn't any different."

He waited for a moment as he paused for breath, waiting for the inevitable argument he could almost see forming in his friend's mind. He really should've seen this onslaught coming – Jowan had been getting increasingly agitated the past few days, seemingly acting more and more paranoid by the day. Ellis should've seen earlier that it was anxiety over the Harrowing.

"I'm not saying it's easy," he continued quietly when Jowan said nothing. "I'm not saying there aren't any risks. But there's a reason people aren't called until they're deemed able to handle it."

"Well, what about the Tranquil?"

Ellis had to resist the almost overwhelming urge to groan. "What about the Tranquil?"

"They didn't pass their Harrowings."

"Tranquil don't have Harrowings."

"Some Tranquil do!"

"Some Tranquil are made that because they're dangerous to themselves and everyone around them, including other mages. The Rite isn't done without reason. Maybe in other Circles, but not here. Greagoir's a hardass, but he isn't corrupt."

And thank the Maker for it. Everyone had heard the seemingly endless horror stories of violently strict templars who forced brutal punishments on their charges for no justifiable reason. Kinloch Hold honestly seemed progressive by comparison, though that wasn't exactly a comforting thought. In truth, Ellis couldn't honestly say how he felt about the situation he found himself in. The templars and the constant threat of death or worse if he wasn't good enough terrified him, yes. But he'd be lying if he said he'd rather be out there, on his own in the real world. He'd seen the real world, through both his own eyes and that of others. No one seemed to have a good time there. Everyone – even nobles like Eugene and Yeva who seemed to have everything anyone could want – was restricted in their own way, confined to a certain place, a certain way of being. Everyone's lives were shit, somehow. There was no point in trying to play misery poker with them. It wasn't a game anyone was going to win, and at this point, he was tired of trying.

He just wished Jowan would realise that. That he'd stop coveting some abstract notion of freedom that no one actually had.

"Jowan," he called, deciding right then and there to try a gentler tactic. "I'm just trying to say that there's nothing to be afraid of."

More like being afraid will only make it worse, some snide thought cut in. But hey, what's the difference?

He winced slightly at his own brain, but Jowan almost immediately perked up in the slight change of tone and topic.

"But what exactly did they make you do?"

"Why are you so keen to know?"

"Who wouldn't be? Come on, I just want to know. What harm is a little curiosity?"

"If I didn't know any better," Ellis said as his expression quickly hardened, "I'd say you were trying to cheat."

Jowan pulled back at that, affronted and maybe a little hurt from the suggestion. "Are you being serious right now? I thought we were friends."

"We are," Ellis replied a little hotly.

"Well, you could've fooled me!" Jowan quickly snapped back, before letting out an agitated sigh and throwing his hands into the air. "Whatever. I guess I was kidding myself when I thought you'd take me seriously."

"Jowan-"

"I mean, you're only my best friend-"

"Playing the guilt card already? That's kinda low, don't you think?"

Jowan paid him no mind. "And now you'll move upstairs and have your own fancy quarters and-"

"Are you still upset about not being called?" Ellis asked – demanded, really – as his eyebrows shot up incredulously. "Jowan, we've been over this. They'll call you for the Harrowing. When you're ready, like they do with everyone."

"I've been here longer than you," Jowan pointed out bitterly.

"Twelve years," Ellis retorted. "Eisa was an apprentice for something like fifteen years before she got called – and she did get called."

There was something of a tense silence between the two of them as Ellis waited patiently for a reply and Jowan simply stared blankly for what felt like an excruciating eternity.

"Eisa?" he repeated blandly, after what felt like way too long. "You mean that Amell girl?"

"How many other people called Eisa do you know?" Ellis shot back dryly, trying not to wince as he realised he'd been overly familiar about her again. As far as anyone in the tower knew, he'd barely spoken to Eisa in all the time he'd been here. They'd agreed it had to be this way long ago, out of fear of what the templars would do to them if they suspected any kind of connection between them. Greagoir was twitchy enough as it was; the revelation of yet more magic he didn't understand would only get them made Tranquil.

Which was a punishment to fear even under normal circumstances, let alone under theirs.

Sometimes, they were individuals with their own lives, their actions having little to no bearing on each other. Other times, what happened to one of them happened to all of them. It was impossible to predict, so they all just played it as safe as they could. It was the only thing they could do. They were all depending on each other just for survival, half the time.

"Like that's even the same," Jowan argued, bringing Ellis sharply back to reality.

"How is it not the same?"

"Well, she got her magic really young, right? Of course she'd have to wait longer."

"Oh my gosh," Ellis deadpanned. "You're right. It's almost as if that makes complete sense. It's almost as if the same thing probably applies to you too."

"You got called before me."

"And loads of apprentices got called before Eisa. You're being paranoid, Jowan."

That apparently did absolutely nothing to alleviate Jowan's fears, as he continued nervously fidgeting, constantly shifting his weight from one foot to the other and back again. At that point, Ellis was at a loss as to what he could say that would have any meaningful impact; Jowan seemed determined to fall into an anxious heap no matter what.

"If you just told me what's involved-"

"Jowan," Ellis called sharply, quickly cutting his friend off. "Why are you so obsessed with this all of a sudden?"

At the sound of his question, Jowan quickly made a point of glancing off in the opposite direction – even though his refusal to make eye contact only put Ellis even more on edge.

"I…" he began awkwardly, still shuffling constantly from side to side, never quite able to stay in one place. "I was- uh, I was talking to Senior Enchanter Uldred the other day – before he left for Ostagar, I mean – and… well, he-"

It took almost every fibre of self-control Ellis had not to smack his palm against his forehead and groan exasperatedly. "Oh for the love of- …Jowan. Stop talking to him."

That earned him little more than a dirty look, before Jowan let out a loud, irritated exhale and began massaging his temples furious in what was probably an attempt to alleviate an incoming headache.

"Fine, fine. Whatever. I get it," he grouched, mostly to himself. "I'm supposed to tell you to see Irving, when you're ready."

"Jowan…" Ellis called his name, as his friend made his way to the door. "Just tell me what's going on with you. I might be able to help."

"Don't bother," came the sullen reply as Jowan didn't stop, or even slow down. "I'd just be wasting your time."

"Jowan!" Ellis shouted, clambering out of bed, all too late to stop him. "C'mon Jowan, I didn't mean- Jowan!"

But he was already gone.

Ellis practically collapsed on the floor then, staring absently at the door, almost completely at a loss. How had he managed to screw up talking so badly? He thought he'd been supportive, mostly. Where did he go so wrong? Why did nothing seem to come out of his mouth right? Why was this still something he struggled with?

He let out a quiet groan and leaned back against his bunk, closing his eyes and trying his best to relax, to calm the tension still laced throughout his muscles from the trauma of the morning. He doubted that was going away any time soon, not while he could so clearly remember to low voice of the pride demon, purring softly in his ear; not to mention the sick, twisted curiosity emanating from the creature as it sensed that he was far from alone.

Ellis winced slightly as he thought about it, about the others, all standing with him in the Fade, all tense, all distrustful of everything and anything around them, the memory of Eisa's Harrowing still too fresh in all their minds. The demon really hadn't stood a chance, not against the seven of them, and it seemed to realise that. But pride – pride was smart. Pride was insidious. Pride got inside people's heads and rotted them from the inside out, picking at their sanity until there was nothing left.

How was he supposed to fight against a concept? How was he supposed to defeat an idea? How was he supposed to best an emotion, something that was as quintessentially part of him as he was? He couldn't simply cut all those pieces away. There would be nothing left to corrupt.

He shook his head slightly to one side and tried not to think about it. Remembering it, remembering its words, would only make its hold on him and his soul even stronger.

Demons knew him now. The idea, the memory, the experience of him would spread, to the farthest reaches of the Fade itself, until every single one of its denizens knew him as if they themselves had all met him in person, as if they experienced exactly what Pride had. More would come, and he would be left to fight them all off, one by one as they assaulted his mind, each and every night for as long as he dared to dream.

It terrified him. Almost more than anything else. Almost as much as it terrified Eisa.

He could feel it even now; her fear, her apprehension, her never-ceasing need to pray, to cleanse herself of corruption, as if the Maker gave a rat's ass about her, about anyone in this mortal realm – if He even existed at all, the first place. It hadn't even been her Harrowing, and yet he could feel her, feel how intensely it had affected her, more so than even him. He could even feel her frantic attempts to hide it from the rest of them. From the others, she managed to shield herself, but from him? He got everything. And he'd never had the heart to tell her. He didn't know why, exactly. Because he was a mage? Because they were in such close physical proximity? There were endless theories.

Slowly, with a long, somewhat pained sigh, Ellis pushed himself back up to his feet, carefully stretching out his muscles and trying to calm himself as much as possible before heading out. He couldn't keep thinking about this – about the Harrowing, about Jowan's paranoid behaviour, about Eisa's soul-crushing anxieties. As much as it was dictated by others, he still had his own life to live.

He rolled his shoulders back as he exited the apprentice dormitory, trying not to wince too much at the sound of his shoes clicking against the hard polished stone floor.

He was still in his robes, he realised dully. The templars must've carried him back from the Harrowing Chamber and just dumped back into bed, still fully dressed. He'd slept in the clothes he was wearing.

He'd slept in his shoes.

Quickly, with an agitated grumble, he stopped just short of the library, leaning on the wall and furiously kicking them off his feet, suddenly anxious for his toes to be free. He didn't care that the floor of the tower remained cold stone, the morning sun's warmth having barely crept in through the windows to warm the place up. He didn't care as a templar passed by, taking clear note of him struggling in a corner, all but tossing his shoes away the instant he was free of them.

"Elves," he heard the man grunt dismissively in his direction before disappearing around a corner.

There was nothing worth saying to that, so Ellis remained silent, quickly entering the library at large, leaving his shoes abandoned and unwanted in the hall. He didn't care. He was sure they would find their way back to him, as they usually did. And if they didn't, he wouldn't mourn the loss. Shoes were a formality, and forgoing them was not a crime.

Of course, that hadn't saved him from several stern speeches about respect over the course of his time here.

The library was still relatively quiet, with only a few mages dotted about the place, most poring over piles of tomes, while some of the younger apprentices – the ones who could still very much be called children – were enduring their morning lectures before the older ones would trickle in and start actually practicing spells. A couple templars kept careful watch, as they always did, quiet and sullen and decked out in full armour, only trading the occasional word with each other.

Ellis couldn't help but feel just a little sorry for them. Library guard duty must be the dullest thing imaginable.

So many of the templars came from various minor noble families; younger sons and daughters that won't inherit anything, but still pushed into doing something honourable by their family. So many of them had come to the Chantry in the hopes of making something of their lives… how disappointing it must be to find out one's destiny is skulking around in the corner of a library, watching people research and attend lectures and generally do things that could only be described as the exact opposite of exciting.

And the others? Bastards, orphans, and maybe the occasional low-born peasant who somehow managed to convince the Chantry to allow them to participate in training. All of them brought up to believe in a greater destiny. All of them only disappointed in where life had led them. All of them trapped here, just as much as the mages were.

The Chantry really did like to screw absolutely everyone over, didn't it?

He headed up the stairs then, up to the senior mage's quarters, up to the First Enchanter's office, where he imagined Irving was either rifling through his own research or locked in a tense argument with Greagoir for whatever reason.

Probably about the mages that were sent to Ostagar.

Lately, it was always about Ostagar.

"You are no longer an apprentice," he heard Irving say soothingly as he approached the door – to someone who was very decidedly not the Knight-Commander. "You must learn to trust yourself. This was the right thing to do."

Ellis sighed quietly and paused for a moment, part of his mind already on the other side of the door, where Eisa paced relentlessly, raking her hands through her hair from the sheer stress of it all.

And then;

"Please, don't wait around out here on my account," her voice abruptly murmured in his ear.

"Fu-!" Ellis started to scream, leaping away from the door just it opened to reveal Eisa – the real, physical form of Eisa – standing there with expectant eyes and behind her, the First Enchanter standing at his desk. "…ff… uh… ha… mm."

"Eight years, newly graduated, and Ellis Surana still conveniently forgets to wear his shoes," Irving called as Ellis trailed off into awkward silence, his eyes crinkling as he smiled, more amused than exasperated. "It seems some things will never change."

Ellis shrugged innocently. "I misplaced them?"

"Young man, the day I believe that will be the day I must retire," the old man replied dryly. "You never like to make these things easy, do you?"

He quickly elected not to reply to that, as it didn't seem to be a question that demanded an answer. Or he hoped that was the case, anyway. He'd gotten that wrong too many times to count in the past.

Thankfully though, no one seemed to be looking at him strangely as he stood there in silence.

"You have done all that was asked of you, and passed the Harrowing," Irving said brightly, holding out a bundle of cloth Ellis could only assume was a new set of robes – all mages received one such set upon passing their final exam. "You are now a fully qualified mage of the Circle. Congratulations."

Eisa beamed at him too, eyes bright and her smile wide as Ellis awkwardly accepted the robes from Irving.

"Thank you, First Enchanter," he mumbled, keeping his eyes glued to the floor, unable to stand the thought of direct eye contact in that moment.

"Knight-Commander Greagoir has already overseen your phylactery's transfer to Denerim," Irving continued, quickly returning his attention to whatever papers were sprawled out across his desk. "And of course you've been assigned new quarters. Some of the templars took the liberty of gathering your belongings and bringing them to your new living space."

Ellis blinked several times and had to choke back a horrified gasp as he paled at the thought. He didn't have anything to hide, but there was something so… uncomfortable about the idea of templars going through his stuff. His personal stuff. His personal stuff that belonged to him that he didn't want anyone seeing, not even his friends, let alone some thick-headed warriors who thought they had the right to- …to… look. Because since when did the templars have any appreciation for someone's privacy?

"Eisa, would you do me the invaluable favour of showing our new brother of the Circle where he will be sleeping from now on?"

Eisa barely reacted to the request, simply giving the First Enchanter a cheerful nod. "Of course, First Enchanter."

With that, she gestured at Ellis to follow her, and quickly led him out of the office, not saying as she leaned on the door until it clicked quietly shut behind her. Ellis stood there, waiting patiently as she let out a soft, calming exhale and her eyes flicked down to the floor.

"What is it with you and shoes?" she asked exasperatedly, gesturing pointedly at his bare feet. "Have you always been like this, or did you pick it up from Aneurin?"

Ellis shifted uncomfortably on the spot. "Honestly, I don't even remember."

He knew they hadn't been born connected the way they were now, but it was all so long ago he couldn't quite recall what life was like without it, or what he'd even been like at the time. They were young when it began, he knew that. Too young. Too young really, to understand, to wrap their heads around what was happening to them at the time. Fifteen years or so down the track, and they still didn't really know or understand what was happening to them.

At least now he didn't almost have a stroke every time he looked in the mirror only to find someone else's reflection staring back.

"I'm just glad it's over," Eisa murmured, her quiet voice abruptly bringing him back into reality. "I'll sleep better, knowing we never have to do the Harrowing again."

"You and me both," Ellis grunted, reaching up to his face to once again rub his eyes. "Now we've just got to worry about demons attacking us every night."

"That's literally what the Harrowing is for," she pointed out, slowly moving away from Irving's office door and heading off down the hall, Ellis quickly falling into step beside her. "Preparing you for the onslaught."

"By throwing us in the deep end without warning?"

"Because demons will always warn you before trying to possess you?" she shot back, before her expression quickly grew distant. "I worry about the others, though."

"Why? The others aren't mages."

"Exactly. They're not mages," she said, dragging her hands through her hair as anxiety became more and more pronounced in everything she did. "But if the Fade notices us, it notices them, too."

"That isn't being just slightly paranoid?"

"You know as well as I do that demons can see us," she argued. "All of us, whether we're in the Fade or not. We can't hide from that."

That… was a frighteningly good point, Ellis realised, the blood very quickly draining from his face. There really wouldn't be any hiding from this. Not anymore, if there ever had been.

"Eisa, can you not say things like that? I need to be able to sleep at night."

She glanced away at that, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. "Sorry. Uh… your room's over here. This way."

With that, she practically ran off, down the hall to where the mage quarters had all been clustered together. The rooms were tiny – they had to be, since there was only so much room within the tower – but they afforded space and privacy where as in the apprentice dorms there was none. Ellis was happy to take the upgrade.

He continued along at a casual walking pace, heading off in the direction Eisa had disappeared, eventually rounding a corner to find her standing by a door, waiting for him. Ellis arched an eyebrow at her as he came close, confused by her behaviour as she shifted ceaselessly from side to side, frantically wringing her hands in some attempt to purge herself of the nervous energy that seemed to permeate everything about her.

"First Jowan, now you," he sighed as he reached her proper. "What's going on? Why is everyone acting jumpy lately?"

Almost automatically, she waved him off. "Just… nothing. Don't worry about it. I should- …I need to get back to the chantry."

Ellis arched an eyebrow at her fumbling reply. "Anxious to get back to praying the magic away, are you?"

He tried not to feel too much satisfaction when he noticed her lip curl ever so slightly. Key word being tried.

For someone so good at magic, Eisa did spend an inordinate amount of time doing everything possible to rid herself of it. Once, he'd felt sorry for her. Sorry that she'd been conditioned to hate herself so much. But as time went on, as Eisa continued to stubbornly cling to religion despite it doing absolutely nothing for her, as he watched her feed it and it in turn feed her own overpowering self-loathing, that pity had turned to exasperation. She was so smart, so brilliant, and so talented. It didn't make sense that she couldn't bring herself to see the Chantry for what it really was.

It was using her – using them all. As villains, as scapegoats for a supposed sin committed over a thousand years ago. Using them as some spectre of evil to frighten the general public with. Using them to fight and die in battles that had nothing to do with them, only lock them all away again. It used them, just like it used the templars, just like it used everyone. And Eisa had somehow bought it, hook, line, and sinker.

It was almost distressing, seeing someone with so much potential go to waste like that.

"Does it feel good?" she asked him, a distinct edge in her voice as her hands balled up into tight fists and everything about her seemed to go completely rigid. "Belittling someone for having something they actually believe in? Does it make you feel powerful? Fill that big empty void inside you?"

He tapped his fingers against his chin and gave a little hum in what was quite clearly mock-thoughtfulness.

"More than the Chantry does, at any rate," he told her brightly.

She watched him, eyes narrowed and wary, her lips parting slightly as she began to say something, only to think better of it. Ellis' jaw tightened, already knowing what she'd come so close to telling him. He could see it, written all over her expression, echoing endlessly in her mind before she could quash it.

You're more like your parents than you think.

It hurt him. It hurt him so much more than anything else she could've said, and she knew that. Eisa always did have an uncanny ability to cut right to the core of people. To this day, she remained the only one who had ever managed to completely disarm and ultimately take Eugene down in an argument.

They could all see into each other's minds. Eisa seemed to see straight into the soul.

"Low fucking blow, Eisa," he hissed back at her, snarling like a wounded animal.

She barely flinched, though he could feel the regret welling up inside her as she gently placed her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not saying you have to believe it, or that it has to be important to you," she said, her voice low and somewhat cold, despite all her efforts to be gentle. "I'm asking you to respect that it's important to me."

He didn't have anything to say to that, and maybe just as well. Eisa simply gave him a long, meaningful look before withdrawing; her hand sliding off his shoulder a little awkwardly as she turned and walked away, in the direction of the chantry.

For so long, Ellis stared blankly after her, his mind caught up in memories from over a decade ago now, memories he knew were better off forgotten.

He shook his head in an almost violent fashion then, trying to clear his mind of them. He didn't want to think about it. Not now. Not ever.

Instead, he pushed open the door to his new room, unmoving as it swung open, revealing the small, depressingly bare space. A chest – presumably full of his things – had been placed at the foot of the bed which was shoved into a corner. Across from that, a small desk. Hanging on the wall, a mirror. Everything was neatly packed away it looked like no one had stepped foot in this room, let alone lived in it, for an age or so.

Welcome to the rest of your life, he thought bitterly, surveying it all.

Still. He was better off here than where he was.

He'd genuinely believed that, this morning. Now he wasn't so sure.

Somewhere, in a dark and ignored corner of his mind, pride's lips pulled back into a frightening smile, a shiver went up Ellis' spine as dreadful claws buried themselves deep in his chest.

"You are a true mage, one of the few," the memory of it whispered in his ear, its unnaturally cool breath caressing his neck. "You deserve so much better."

Ellis jerked his head to one side and an effort to ignore it, not wanting to deal with this right now. He knew those thoughts weren't his; not entirely. He knew there was something else, something behind them, something watching and waiting for him to hesitate, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He knew that, despite all his efforts, he would never truly be rid of it. Because he was here. Because he was a mage. Because part of being a mage was the very reality he found himself facing now.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise.

It came then, a cacophony of voices, whispering and wailing and screeching over top of each other in a barely coherent mess of noise that filled Ellis' head, building into a roar that drowned out everything else, even his own thoughts.

If he even had thoughts he could still call his own.

"They can't keep treating you like this."

"They can't get away with this."

"Take the power."

"Shut up…" he groaned, slapping his palm to his forehead, hoping the abrupt shock of pain would be enough to make it stop, or at least distract him from it.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, behind all the noise, behind even what little remained of his own consciousness, he felt Eisa flinch away from him; recoiling in pain as she fell to her knees, shaking violently as tears sprang into her eyes and she frantically fought to steel her mind against him, and the parasitic thoughts and feelings that had infected him.

"No one could stand in your way…"

"You deserve it."

"You could leave, live the life they stole from you; the life you deserve. Don't let them do this. Don't let them abuse you anymore-"

"Make them pay for what they did to you."

"You earned it."

"Make them all pay."

There was a knock at the door.

"Ellis?"

At the call of his name, Ellis whirled around on the spot, pale and shaking as sweat beaded along his hairline, his eyes wide with terror even as they fell upon the figure awkwardly paused at the door.

"J-Jowan!" he stammered out his friend's name in sheer relief as he moved back, wiping his hand across his brow and trying to act like absolutely nothing had happened and everything was perfectly fine. "I… uh, h-hey! Hi. What's up?"

Jowan didn't answer, at least not immediately. Instead, he quickly turned on the spot, leaning out of the doorway and frantically checking the hallways before shuffling back inside and closing the door behind him. Ellis watched the entire display, not sure what to make of any of it. If he'd thought Jowan had been acting a little paranoid this morning, it was nothing compared to how he was acting now.

"Can- can I talk to you?" Jowan asked a little meekly, leaning against the door – perhaps in an attempt to keep anyone else from coming in. "Privately?"

"…are we not in private now?" Ellis asked, arching an eyebrow as he sat down on the bed, folding his arms across his chest.

In front of him, Jowan pushed himself away from the door and began to pace, relentlessly, back and forth across the length of the room. For so long, that's all there was, nothing but the sound of Jowan's footsteps as he kept constantly on the move, from one wall to the other repeatedly. Ellis let out an exhausted sigh and pulled back on the bed, making sure he was far out of his friend's way.

Already, he felt his exasperation being twisted by the demon that lurked in the back of his mind into something far darker; a seething anger and resentment that seemed completely rational to him before he managed to catch it.

Quickly, he shoved it aside, wondering just how long he was going to have to deal with it. Forever, maybe. Time meant nothing a demon. It was just one of the many things they used to wear their prey down. A relentless assault, for days on end which turn into weeks which turn into months which eventually turn into years. The templars weren't wrong. Any mage, no matter how skilled or how experienced, could become an abomination. But that usually came at the end of a continued resistance, when the last scrap of energy was gone and all there was left to do was break.

He wondered if they knew. If they were aware just how much and how hard they were all fighting to keep their minds. He wondered if they cared.

"They don't care."

"They'll never care."

"You have to make them care."

"Make them change."

"Make it all change."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, desperate to ignore it as he returned his attention to Jowan, who was still pacing back and forth without ever stopping.

"Okay," Jowan muttered, dragging his fingers through his hair, while attempting to focus on breathing properly – not that it did him any favours. "Okay. I can do this. Sure I can. You- you know how I met a girl?"

"I know you said you met a girl," Ellis quipped back at him a little tiredly, not wanting to give off any impression of his internal struggle. "I also know I told you that getting handsy with the chantry's statue of Andraste doesn't count as meeting a girl."

That earned him a poisonous look; but it did at the very least finally get Jowan to stop pacing for a moment.

Just for a moment.

"Is that what this is?" he asked quietly, his eyes following his friend as the pacing quickly resumed. "Too much pent-up sexual frustration?"

"She's coming here."

Ellis blinked in surprise at the sudden and frank admission. "I- what?"

Jowan didn't look at him. "I told her to wait a couple of minutes so I could explain the situation to you."

"You can't be serious," Ellis managed to choke out through his shock. "What situation? Who is she? Jowan, you'd better tell me something or I swear, I'm going to-"

He cut off at the sound of a polite knock at the door. Both boys froze dead, heads swivelling around to look at the door. After a moment of tense silence, Jowan gave Ellis and meaningful look before rushing over to the door, wrenching it open, and ushering someone inside.

Ellis didn't know what he expected. Another mage, probably. Some young impressionable apprentice girl who let Jowan copy off her notes during lectures, definitely.

What he actually saw, though?

"This… uh, Ellis, this is Lily."

"Er, yes. Hello. I've uh, I've seen you around before."

He barely heard Jowan's awkward introduction, or Lily's tentative greeting. He was too busy staring.

"An initiate," he said flatly, looking the young woman up and down several times and recoiling back slightly the instant he spotted the Chantry insignia decorating her robes. "Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea how insane this is?!"

"Can you keep your voice down?" Jowan demanded, glancing anxiously back to the door. "This is honestly not the problem right now."

"Screwing around with an initiate seems like a pretty big fucking problem, Jowan!"

Lily immediately shrank back behind Jowan at that point, as if she expected him to be able to protect her. Much to Ellis' surprise, Jowan moved further in front, consciously blocking her from his line of sight.

Ellis' face fell as he realised just what that meant.

Jowan was smitten with the bloody girl. And given how she looked at him, he wasn't alone in feeling that way. They were both such clueless idiots and so painfully in love with each other that Ellis thought he might throw up just by looking at them.

This was going to end badly.

This was going to end so, so badly, and he couldn't bear to stand by and watch it all fall apart.

And he'd thought the awkward mess with Eisa and that damn templar who was so clearly in love with her even though she was completely oblivious to it was a disaster waiting to happen. But even that wreck of a situation had nothing on this.

"We need your help," Jowan said, looking Ellis straight in the eyes, suddenly standing straight and acting the most confident he'd been in the entire time they'd known each other.

Ellis' lip curled. Did he blink and suddenly become the only sane person in the whole damn tower?

"Break up."

That caused both of them to reel back in shock.

Jowan glared at him the instant he recovered. "Ellis!"

"I'm serious. What you're doing breaks both Circle rules and her vows. Nothing about this is subtle. Everyone is going to find out, and who even knows what'll happen then. It's kinder in the long run if you end it now."

"C'mon Ellis," Jowan practically shouted at him now. "Just because you've never cared about anyone-!"

"Jowan," Lily called softly, reaching out and gripping his arm with a meaningful look while Ellis automatically flinched back, almost as if the words had burned him.

There was something particularly hurtful about hearing that from one of the few people he dared to call a friend. Whether Jowan actually meant it or not, he couldn't tell. In that moment, he wasn't truly sure it even mattered.

Why did it get to him? He knew it wasn't true. He cared about people. He cared about a lot of people! He couldn't be who and what he was – whatever he was – without caring about people. They were all so intensely involved in each other's lives there hadn't been much other choice. They had to care about each other; they had to care deeply. Jowan was wrong. He cared about people. There was Eisa and Joachim and Rhian and Eugene and Yeva and… and Aneurin…

He winced, the instant that name crossed his mind.

So not important right now.

Before he could react, however – before he could even do as much as open his mouth to reply – Lily moved forwards, looking at Ellis with an imploring look.

"I know it's a lot to take in at once," she began, as Jowan fidgeted nervously in the background, "but there's more. A couple of days ago, I was in the Knight Commander's office, and-"

"They're going to make me Tranquil!" Jowan interrupted, practically leaning over her and waving his hands around wildly.

There was a stunned silence as Ellis pulled back slightly, eyes wide with surprise at this sudden and unceremonious revelation.

"What?" he asked after what felt like and possible could've been an absolute eternity, his voice strangely low and flat even as his mind reeled in shock. "C-come on. No they aren't. There's no reason to."

"There's a rumour going around about me," Jowan began breathlessly, glancing wildly around the room despite all of them knowing no one else was there, before dropping his voice to a low whisper. "People are saying that… that I'm a blood mage."

There was yet another tense pause as this information sank in. And then, without warning, Ellis burst out in a fit of hysterical laughter, causing both Jowan and Lily to jump violently.

"Oh, that's good," he gasped out, chuckling all the while – at both what he'd been told and Jowan's scandalised expression. "That's brilliant! You? A blood mage? You? I'm sorry, but who in their right mind would actually believe that?"

"Ellis-"

"Quick! Run for the hills! Jowan's going to sacrifice your children to demons!" he called out, his expression twisted into one of mock-horror even as he continued laughing. "Oh. Oh, Maker. You really had me for a second."

He kept laughing, even as the silence in the room became almost overpowering. Dread crawled into the back of his mind, but he kept laughing anyway, because this situation couldn't be real, it was too absurd. Nothing about it made sense, because it was a joke. Right? Yes. It had to be. There wasn't anything else it could be.

But the longer Jowan and Lily watched him in silence, both of them with the same, identical expression of absolute agony, the less he was sure.

"You're… not kidding," he realised eventually, the laughter very quickly dying away.

"I found a document authorising use of the Rite on Jowan," Lily whispered, doing nothing to contain the horror in her tone. "Both the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter Irving had signed it."

…no, he thought. No, no, no.

This couldn't be happening.

This couldn't be real.

An unjustified use of the Rite of Tranquillity? On an apprentice? Greagoir might've been paranoid enough to jump to conclusions, but Irving wouldn't- he wouldn't stand for it. That wasn't the First Enchanter he knew. It wasn't the Irving who had patiently taught both him and Eisa everything they knew about magic, who had constantly doted over Eisa and lavished praise upon her for her natural talent, who had been so kind and so understanding and only looked on in polite exasperation every time Ellis decided he could disregard the rules.

It wasn't Irving.

It wasn't the kind of thing Irving would do.

"That's why you're so…" Ellis managed with a distant whisper, before smacking his palm to his forehead and letting out an exasperated groan as the revelation hit him. "The Harrowing. They haven't called you for it, because they're not going to. I'm such an idiot."

He had to ask. He had to confront Irving. He had to know, had to find out why. No one cared more about the welfare of apprentices than the First Enchanter, and the fact that he would do this made no sense.

Not unless Jowan is actually a blood mage, a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him.

He immediately shoved that thought aside.

"I'll talk to Irving," he murmured, not sure what else to say.

"No!" Jowan practically screamed at him. "Ellis, you can't!"

"Irving already signed off on the Rite," Lily pointed out. "He won't believe us if we try to convince him otherwise. Talking to him now will only alert him of what we're up to. We can't risk it."

"You're not serious, are you?" Ellis demanded. "Irving isn't-"

"Promise me, Ellis," Jowan interrupted him, reaching out and gripping his upper arm tightly, his eyes wide and pleading. "Promise me you won't tell anyone. Ellis, please."

For much too long, Ellis simply stared back at his friend, eyes wide with horror and confusion as he found completely at a loss of what to do. This – the whole situation, everything about it in general – was completely insane.

Slowly, stiffly, he nodded, even as his stomach churned and every fibre in his being was screaming at him that he was being an idiot, that he couldn't – and shouldn't – be going along with this, that talking to Irving and trying to sort the whole mess out that way was the best thing to do.

But instead, he found himself nodding, silently giving Jowan the promise he asked for.

"So what are you going to do?" he managed to choke out finally, forcing the acid that had welled up in his throat back down.

Jowan seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and retreated a few steps. "We need to leave – me and Lily. We need to get out of here and go somewhere the templars won't ever find us."

"Good luck with that. They still have your phylactery."

He simply nodded in response. "I know. That's why we need to destroy it first."

"Destroy your- …you mean want to break into the repository?" Ellis demanded, not quite sure if he had heard any of that correctly. "That sounds like the worst plan."

"It's the only one we've got," Jowan pointed out, reaching up and raking his fingers through his hair. "But first, I need to know you'll help. I need to know if you're in."

Ellis glanced up, his expression pained as he looked between his friend – his best friend, possibly his only friend – and the girl he loved, still not quite able to wrap his head around what was actually happening.

"Yeah," he sighed after far too long. "Yeah, Jowan. I'm in."