Although stiff and groggy, Nuraya felt a great weight lift when she awoke. Sitting up in the cool dark room, she realized that she lay in a bunk once used by a Circle apprentice. For a moment, she was consumed with a sense of loathing and anger about this place. How many hours did I wonder what lie on the other side of these walls? How many times did I wish I had no connection to the Fade? She thought about the uncounted days and weeks she spent hating the Chantry and hating the Mages who defended them.

Returning to the room, she noticed a corner of the vast hall had been rearranged to accommodate the apprentices. The rest looked like a warehouse: beds, armoires and trunks all stacked neatly in rows. She eyed the space and tried to find her former accommodations. Desks and chairs were now piled in an intricate, yet organized heap, with no sign of her old trunk. She stretched her shoulder, extended her arm in all directions and was satisfied that a talented healer had tended to her. With the absence of pain came another sensation: hunger. She had no idea what time it was or whether she'd be searching for breakfast or supper. She assumed it was the middle of the day as she was the only one in bed. The sound of soft footsteps approached. From the dark, a female shadow appeared, and then she recognized a familiar flash of brilliant red hair.

"Petra! Am I to thank you for this?" She rotated her shoulder a couple times to show that all had returned to normal.

"Yes…Warden Amell." She said resolutely and smiled warmly. Petra sat on the bed and examined her arm, asking about Wynne.

"Wynne is excellent, Petra, and she's so helpful. We're lucky to have her."

"Take good care of her, then." Petra winked. "Your other companions are on the second floor. We set them up in the men's quarters. Great Maferath, they are a noisy group! How do you manage?"

Nuraya giggled and gently laid her hand on Petra's and reminisced on the lighter, more insignificant events from the Circle. Petra spoke of Jowan's escapades, before he had fled. Nuraya's face darkened and she sighed deeply.

"Do you have news of him?" Petra was concerned. She had kept an eye on this impish lad for years. She had even approached First Enchanter Irving asking him to allow Jowan to take his Harrowing. Nuraya also thought that with some discipline and confidence, he would serve the Circle well. Nuraya knew that Irving had mulled over Petra's appeal and if it weren't for Jowan's incessant escapades with the Chantry sisters, he may have found himself cleaning floors at the Circle as opposed to stewing in a Redcliffe jail.

Nuraya detailed her recent encounter with the blood mage, and how his actions were the reason she found herself back at the Circle. She also wondered what happened to Anders. His absence during her last visit greatly concerned her.

"Where is Anders? Please tell me he survived."

Petra never had the same patience for Anders as Nuraya had. She rolled her eyes.

"He's here. Hid the entire time Uldred occupied the tower. Fool of a boy."

Nuraya groaned. She was not surprised. He was much more vocal of his disdain for Circle-Chantry politics. How he'd managed to evade Tranquility was a mystery to most mages in Kinloch Hold. She guessed she had more influence with the First Enchanter than she gave herself credit. Quickly, she changed the subject.

"Petra, I've a favor to ask of you."

"Anything, my friend. What do you need?" Nuraya could tell that Petra was eager to help in any way.

"Grant me your healing skills. I need a teaching from the Creation School."

Gravely, Petra nodded. No mage was to accept or offer training to another without a senior enchanter's permission. This is why Nuraya worked so hard at camp, to show to Wynne she was ready for a new transmission of Creation knowledge. Either Wynne was not satisfied or not paying attention. Asking for new skills was akin to admitting one's lack of qualification. Her natural abilities allowed her to advance independently with primal magic; the Circle mandated that she receive formal instruction for any skill that was not innate. Both mages were aware of the implications and enormity of this seemingly small request. Nuraya loathed to break the rules, and feared that she would bring dishonour upon Grey Wardens in the eyes of the Chantry. Without Duncan, she was left to make these decisions on her own. This is healing magic, not blood magic. What harm can come of this?

"Meet me in the basement tonight. Try and slip past the templars and use the back stairwell. Tell no one. Oh my dear, you have no idea how things have been since you were last here."

Quizzically, Nuraya asked, "I stopped Uldred and I was able to convince Knight-Commander Greagoir to not seek the Rite of Annulment. I thought the mages were on their way to rebuilding. Tell me everything."

"Sweet Andraste, it's getting so much worse. Sometimes it is hard to decide whether demonic possession or Chantry control is more tolerable. Since Uldred, the Chantry continues to rule us with an iron fist. The older templars are becoming crueller and more paranoid. No misstep or perceived misstep is tolerated. This week alone, we lost five apprentices to the Rite of Tranquility. More and more mages arrive at the Circle every day. We can hardly support ourselves, let alone the new influx from the West Hills. Some of these mages are mere card readers for pity's sake. We offer them lodging and employment for their own protection, but the Chantry's squeeze is felt by us all. Please, if your position as a Grey Warden has any pull, please think of us if any opportunities arise. I beg you. I don't know how much more I can tolerate. Life on the run is beginning to seem like my best option." To have Petra discussing escape was of great concern. This meant the situation was as dire as she claimed.

"You have my word Petra. But please, the hills are polluted with Darkspawn. Try and bear this situation until I stop this Blight. Please. I don't know how long it will take, but I assure you that the Circle is safer."

She meant that. Perhaps her earlier assessment that the Circle lacked the companionship and commitment of the Grey Warden's was unfair. Until joining the Circle was no longer akin to a life sentence, all mages would feel this uncertainty.

Petra patted the bed, and smiled. "Enough doom and destruction my friend, come let us find some breakfast Get dressed and I'll wait for you in the hall."

Nuraya rose from the bed and searched for her belongings, and found that Petra had folded them neatly and placed then in the trunk at the foot of her bed. She dressed quickly, and grabbed her staff and her pack.

"I must speak with First Enchanter Irving…" Nuraya had weighed the situation. An early meeting with Irving would be expected. But, her companions would insist on a hasty departure. An overnight stay following such a critical discussion would indeed raise suspicion. However, she absolutely needed to heal before they ventured into the Darkspawn infested countryside.

"First Enchanter is in Denerim. He is expected to return tomorrow."

"Most excellent, Petra." She grinned and they headed to the dining room.

"Oh, by the way," Petra offhandedly remarked, "that other Warden keeps asking about you. He'll be relieved you haven't been taken to the Fade, and I will be relieved that he'll no longer be asking."

Andraste's burning hair, is there nothing easy about this?

~0oOo0~

"Well, look who's decided to get out of bed!" Alistair said, as he turned from his bench and smiled. It brought enough light to the dimly lit room. She looked down for fear of giving away her feelings with a returning grin.

Nuraya strode to the table with the auburn-haired mage a few steps behind. Several mages sat together and glanced up, acknowledging the tales that swept through the halls like a wind before a rainstorm. The dining room was like the Apprentice quarters; a majority of the furnishings were stacked and awaiting organization. The corner nearest the hearth offered a small sense of reassurance that Circle life was slowly returning to normal. The dining room was the heart of the Circle's social life. She spent many hours here listening to gossip and socializing with her friends. Sharing meals in the dining room was the one place that she could momentarily forget that she was forbidden to leave.

Nuraya did not recognize many of the mages. She hoped Anders would be there, and she was disappointed when he wasn't. Off sulking somewhere, she imagined. Although the diners were huddled along one grand table, she could tell that the mages were trying to mind their own business. Surely, speaking to her companions would not raise the templars' suspicions? A templar was posted at the door, as usual, and blankly stared forward. He too was a new face in her familiar surroundings, but the sensation of always being watched remained.

The fire crackled softly as the group dined on a hearty, yet simple, breakfast of oatmeal, dried fruits, and ham. She pulled up a chair to set with Sten, Leliana and Alistair. Petra bridged the divide between her new companions and the mages.

"This is my friend Petra. She's the one responsible for my healing." Nuraya nodded in Petra's general direction and began to serve herself a healthy portion of breakfast into the simple wooden bowl. Everyone, except Sten, offered warm salutations in return.

"I see that Circle is starting to return to normal," Leliana observed. Subtly, Nuraya shot Petra a knowing look, as a sign of reassurance. The concerns she had raised regarding templar cruelty could never be uttered in the open.

"Yes, it's been a challenge. We're doing the best we can and sheltering many mages who have fled the outlying villages from Darkspawn attacks. Supplies are difficult to procure, as you can imagine. We thank the Maker for our Chantry protectors."

Nuraya was impressed with Petra's feigned sincerity, but knew she once embellished her own speech with similar lies. Leliana seemed contented with the statement, despite that it had not been spoken for her benefit.

"Where is the First Enchanter? I expected Irving to tend to our wounded companion, given the importance of our task." Alistair winked at Nuraya and nudged her leg under the table. She caught the flirtation and felt her cheeks burn as she adjusted the dried fruit within her oatmeal.

"The First Enchanter will return from Denerim tomorrow. He met with the new Arl of Denerim and the Grand Cleric to see about some supplies that we must have," Petra said.

Nuraya watched her companions' faces fall. Delays on important missions were always greeted with disappointment. Yes, given the Arl Eamon's condition and Connor's possession it would have been preferable to avoid an extended stay. She didn't think she was risking too much by staying on a few more hours than expected. A delay was more preferable than a death, wasn't it?

To hide her relief, she added, "Morrigan and Wynne head for Castle Redcliffe today. Wynne will ensure the Arl and his son are not harmed in the meantime."

Sten remained silent through the meal and paid little attention to the breakfast chatter. Although he had listened intently to the critical reports, he now appeared to be quite alone. Somehow, Nuraya did not this was sadness. He appeared contented, if it was at all possible to interpret such a response from him. He must know to hold his tongue whist in the company of mages.

Following breakfast, she returned her belongings to the men's quarters on the second floor, across from Alistair's bunk. She wanted to emphasize that her place no longer belonged in the Circle and wondered who else might interpret these subtle messages. In some ways, the long dull waiting was the worst part of this quest. Nuraya took the opportunity to organize a few things and decided to use the Circle's facilities to wash what could dry overnight.

She looked down at her robe. An ancient Tevinter script was stitched in lyrium-dipped silverite thread along the collar, cuffs and edging. Her education taught her that these incantations channeled power from the Fade and mingled with hers. She knew this generally, but could only pronounce the odd verb here and there. She stared at the flourish of the arcane script often enough in her travels, but matter how much she studied, the translation never became clear. Other than this detailing, the robe was thread-bare and quite plain. One of the hidden pockets for her poisons, lyrium and herbs was torn. The belt that secured it was made of ox-blood colored leather. It too was in need of some stitching which she decided to attend to later.

After she laundered her things, she returned from the water closet to find Leliana and Alistair playing a game of cards. Sten was eying the length of his sword with a whetstone in hand. Beside him lay Alistair's sword and Leliana's daggers.

"Why don't you join us, Leliana needs a good beating." Alistair moaned and threw down his hand. Leliana giggled and collected the cards.

"Maybe later. I'm heading over to the library or what's left of it. I think I'll take the chance to study up while I'm here."

Alistair addressed the group, "Attention everyone! Let it be known that our Warden stands in the great company of Garahel the Brave, Kell the Ash, and Asturian the Steadfast. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you…Amell the Bookish!"

Nuraya mockingly scowled and rolled her eyes. "Did you hear the tale how Amell the Bookish forget how to paralyze the ogre before he gored Warden Alistair's innards? All because she hadn't studied."

"Yes, I know that tale! It's part of the Great Blight Cycle. Lady Cecelia would read me dramatic tales of Amell the Bookish when I was a girl in Orlais." Leliana chuckled as she absent-mindedly shuffled the deck.

Alistair grinned with the charm that rescued her from dark thoughts, and through many long evenings by the fire. Part of her wanted to stay and enjoy the folly, but her recent shoulder injury reminded her otherwise.

"Enjoy the rest my friends. This may be the last dry bunk we enjoy." She secured her pack over her shoulder and headed toward the door. "I will join you for dinner. Try not to rile the mages, Alistair."

As she turned the corner to the hallway, she could hear "But my holiday requires that I rile the mages!"

~0oOo0~

She was relieved that the library's section on the Primal School had remained unscathed from the violence it suffered. She remembered confronting a number of Uldred's supporters here and avoided using fire. Burning this glorious cache of knowledge would have been criminal. Often during her childhood, she would escape to these quiet corners to get away from the depression of her fellow apprentices. She explored the stacks, pulled the volumes that she was looking for, and piled them on a table. Reading was a welcomed change from the long hours of travel.

Some hours had passed and she realized that her eyes were beginning to strain in the warm glow of the candle. Surrounded by stacks of leather-bound volumes, she was studying firestorm incantations. She rubbed her eyes and looked up. Alistair appeared in the chair across the desk. Startled, she sat up straight.

"Andraste's smoldering pyre! You always seem to materialize when I least suspect it!" She set the book down and looked around for some indication of the time. Hopefully he had not interpreted her jest as irritation.

"I came to check up on you. I grew rather weary of losing to Leliana or watching Sten polish the leather. What's that you're reading?"

"This?" She closed the book enough to read the title properly, "Primal Flames, a codex by First Enchanter Josephus."

"Riveting," he said sarcastically, "unless there's a chapter on a wayward mage setting the unruly templar's britches ablaze."

"No, but only because it was written before the templars had any involvement with mages, before there was a Circle to make us all play nice."

He rested his elbows on the table and clasped his hands. "So then, Amell the Bookish, tell me more. My templar training involved little having to do with books."

"Ah. That explains everything." She winked playfully and set the volume in front of Alistair and flipped the well-worn parchment to a previous chapter.

"See here, this is the basic fire spell." She pointed to a diagram of a rune, embellished with an accomplished calligrapher's illuminations. The burnished highlights caught the glow of the candle and animated the illustration.

"It looks like a rune," Alistair observed.

"It is. It's called kalle. When I'm in the middle of battle, I bring this image to the centre of my mind."

"Sounds complicated, especially when a maggoty Hurlock is barreling toward you with a sharp set of pointy things."

"Well, that's not all, I have to see the rune and then hear its key."

"Its key?"

"Yes, you know." Nuraya hummed the basic musical scales all Ferelden children learn from their mother. "Each rune has a key, so I conjure the shape of the rune, identify its name and then hear its key. I'm not advanced enough in my training to completely understand how my connection to the Fade translates these elements into an actual ball of fire but it does. Actually, only boring scholars really understand that. It's not really all that important to know."

"Wow. I had no idea how the glowy fingers work. Sounds so…complicated. You can do all of that at once? Sounds like a lot to think about in a pinch."

"I guess that's what makes me a mage. It just…happens."

"So if I worked really hard to see the rune and hear the little tune, then can I hurl a flaming ball at Morrigan?"

"Well, since you were not born with a connection to the Fade, you may as well be standing there with your britches around your ankles. This is just an elementary spell, something all mages learn when they take their apprentice training. I was born with the image in my mind and didn't have to learn it." She flipped the pages ahead. "This is flaming weapons." She pointed to the diagram of a three-dimensional cube. Each facet had its own rune.

"To cast this I have to visualize this cube in my mind with each rune in its precise location. Two of the runes are kalle, but see here, telum, means weapon and ignire means to set with flame. Praesidi tells the spell to protect the bearer of the weapon and the last rune is the best of all… hostibus noceretur..."

"Which means kill the beastie?"

"Exactly. Now don't forget each side has a key, so that has to be worked into the vision."

"That's why those nifty flaming swords spells you cast don't burn my hands off! I have to say, the first time you did that I was about to pommel you on the head."

She chuckled. "But if I remember correctly, that was in the Kocari Wilds and you fire roasted your fair share of Hurlocks that day."

"So, you already know these."

She was surprised he had kept his attention this long. Not many outside the Circle had the patience for primal magic geometry.

"Yes. This afternoon, I've mastered another." She flipped forward to a complex diagram of a hexagonal prism. "This is inferno. It creates a firestorm in a set boundary. I'll cast it to weaken a large group of beasties in the distance. I'll have to add some fire protection to your armour, because if you get caught in this, it will burn your britches off."

Alistair sat back and digested everything she had told him. He crossed his arms and then leaned back in the chair. She left him with his thoughts, momentarily, and returned to the inferno diagram. She had spent her afternoon memorizing these runes and associating each with their keys. She had scrawled everything she needed to remember on a piece of parchment, in case she needed reminding later.

"So tell me," Alistair asked after an extended silence, "if you had the choice, would you become a mage?"

She set down her parchment and pulled the wispy tendrils of the quill through her fingers. Leaning back in her chair, she mulled over the question.

"I suppose it depends. If the Chantry had rein over mages as it does now, then absolutely not. Who would choose a life here? To have blood samples taken so escape was impossible, to be watched and feared, to be the reason for a parent's grief, to sit at the window and look out upon the countryside and wonder what it would be like to live unnoticed and completely irrelevant…"

"And if not for the Chantry?"

"Well, you have to admit, the ability to cast a flaming fireball is most excellent. Too bad the Chantry had to ruin it for everyone." With that she pointed and flicked the quill as if she were about to summon a small, inconsequential spell.

"Interesting. I learned it was the mages who provoked the Chantry." She could tell he was teasing her and that they were not truly having a debate on the matter.

"Oh, I learned that too. Why don't we just lock up every child in Thedas until they learn how to behave? See how that works."

"Well it worked for me!" They laughed out loud, but Nuraya could sense the age-old tension between mages and templars right below the surface.

"I have one desire I wish to admit to…" she leaned forward on the desk in a manner a school girl might whisper gossip to her companion. Alistair mirrored this gesture in return.

"I have this unrequited desire to…" Nuraya paused and grinned fiendishly. Alistair's eyes widened and she caught a glimpse at what might be the beginnings of a blush.

"…wield a sword in battle."

"Are you serious?" he grinned.

"You brought up the 'what if' scenario!"

"You've never fought with a sword before?"

"Never. Not that a templar would allow me within reach of a weapon."

"Point taken. Someday when we have some time on our hands, I'll train you."

"You would do that?" She exclaimed, excited at the prospect.

"My Chantry upbringing tells me this is a very bad idea, but my Warden training says that some rules should be bent in the name of a Blight."

She agreed and believed every self-respecting Grey Warden should have some skill with a blade. She imagined herself as a battle-mage Grey Warden. All of a sudden, this momentary and fleeting observation kindled a greater insight. The concerns about her ability to end the Blight were unexpectedly absolved. She realized all her second thoughts were a waste of time. Everything felt new and made sense. She wasn't just an inconsequential Circle mage. She could be whomever she wished. The small voice that worried over the adequacy of her skills, that tried to convince her that she lacked ability to lead this company to their goal, and questioned her place amongst the Wardens, ceased. For the first time, she saw herself from a different angle, much like the geometric runes she had studied all afternoon. At this moment, she was determined to be the Grey Warden she was meant to be.

Snapping out of her enlightenment, she returned to the table in the Circle library, and was unsure if an awkward silence had passed.

"I'm serious, I hope you realize."

"Oh, I know you're serious. And do you know what I am serious about, right at this very moment?" He leaned in closer and roused the mage's intrigue.

"What's that?" she whispered. She was dangerously close and that unrelenting part of her that yearned for him. She allowed these feelings to percolate. He paused and looked into her eyes, a glance that set her inside aflutter.

"I am seriously ready to eat. I came to fetch you for dinner."

~0oOo0~

Everyone retired early, whether out of boredom or to take advantage of sleeping in a bed. She lay in her bunk trying not to move or close her eyes. Doggedly, she fought her exhaustion in order to make her way to the basement to meet with Petra as soon as the bell rang for First Day Chant. She turned and saw that Alistair was looking straight at her.

"Can't sleep?" he asked under his breath.

"Not when I can feel your stare piercing me in the back!" she whispered, trying to avoid waking the others. She could hear Sten's faint chuff that cued her he was actually asleep, a sound that rarely escaped his lips when they camped. Leliana did not move.

"Are you worried about meeting with the First Enchanter tomorrow?"

"Irving? No, I'm sure he'll help."

Of course, nothing would have been better than to whisper across the bunk for hours. She remained quiet, wishing that he would fall asleep.

"You're feeling better, I hope," she heard Alistair mutter after a bit.

"I'm tired is all, we'll talk at breakfast." She hoped this was all she needed to say. She rolled over feeling slightly miserable that she could not indulge this desire. To pass the time, she visualized the inferno rune. Wiping her mind, she then imagined their distinctive keys. She had the training to know how to quietly practice this without setting the room ablaze; it was in fact the expectations of all mages to engage in such meditations. She heard Alistair's regular breathing and then became anxious of the time.

A distant resonance vibrated from the floors below, signalling the start of First Day Chant. In the hallway she could hear a couple of templars heading toward the bell's origin. She waited until the hallway was silent and checked that Alistair had finally fallen asleep. Slipping out of bed, she avoided looking at him, thinking her very glance might waken him. She padded down the room toward the water closet, hoping if anyone did catch her they would think she was using the facilities.

In the dark corridor there was no sign of templars or wandering mages. She slipped into the shadows and made for the back stairwell. As she descended, she faintly heard the Chantry sister's devotions to Andraste and the Maker. First Day Chant was offered on the first hour of each day and was also the hour that mages often got up to no good. Quickening her pace on tiptoes, she caught a whiff of incense as she continued to descend into the basement. Exiting the stairwell, she scurried for the herbalist's counter. Relieved, she saw Petra sitting cross-legged behind it.

"Good First Day, Warden," Petra whispered. "Up to join the sisters in the chapel?"

"You have no idea how indebted I am to you. Do you want to learn any Primal spells?" Nuraya assumed the same position on the cold stone floor.

"Please, rest your mind. I'll do anything to help stop a Blight, but if anyone saw me use undocumented Primal school spells, there would be an investigation. No more worries about me. I rest all my hopes on you. Did anyone see you?"

Nuraya shook her head and glanced over her shoulder. The women quickly commenced the transmission. Petra handed her a small vial of lyrium. Together, they dipped their thumbs and anointed each other between the eyes and then drank the remaining contents. Placing their hands on the other's shoulders, they leaned forward so their foreheads touched. Nuraya breathed deeply and closed her eyes. Petra's head was cool against hers and she found herself synchronizing her breaths with Petra's rhythmic breathing.

Immediately, her mind became a frenetic vortex of swirling geometric patterns. Pyramids, tetrahedrons and other polygons flooded into her consciousness. Individually, the spells appeared to her, each unique rune on their surface materialized and then in elegant animation, deconstructed into their flattened form. Then, the shapes reassembled and rotated on their axes. They were of a style unique to the creation school. Soft hues and spiral lyrium scripts illuminated the darkness of her thoughts. Sweet tones and discordant melodies throbbed in her ears. Each side revealed its song, side-by-side, and then altogether. Her temples ached as the lyrium rushed through her entire body. Its warmth rushed to her fingertips and the corners of her eyes tingled. A climax of all shapes, tones and runes appeared simultaneously. Both women trembled with the intensity of the transmission and as suddenly as they began, they were repelled from one another.

Nuraya leaned back and inhaled deeply again to hamper the rushing visions.

Petra wiped her forehead and stood. "Quickly, back to your bunk."

Nuraya sensed Petra's near panic.

"You leave first." Nuraya tried to sound reassuring. "I will wait a moment so we are not together. If you are questioned, tell them you heard someone in the herb cupboard."

"Take this in case." Petra handed her a pouch of herbs. Nuraya stuck her nose inside and knew immediately it was a sleeping tea. Before she could offer more assurances, Petra was gone.

While she waited, she poked around an herb cabinet under the counter to take stock of what remained. Tempted, she wanted to replenish some elfroot and deep mushroom for healing poultices and injury kits, however, she knew the Circle would have their own sick and infirm to manage. There would be plenty of opportunities to procure the herbs in the wild and from the merchants that would cross her path over the next few months.

She inhaled again, recalling her errands with Senior Enchanter Leorah. She had not seen her recently and feared the worst. Surely she had the skill to survive what Uldred unleashed? The pungent fragrance conjured many memories of her youth: hours spent as a girl identifying and sketching various species, the first potion she mixed, the first time she snuck here as a teen to scavenge the ingredients for a love potion that Anders and Jowan dared her to mix. She would never forget the terrible diarrhea that it caused her. She laughed to herself again because she had completely forgotten who she was trying to attract.

"Pssst!"

Startled, Nuraya turned to see Anders face peering from the other side of the storeroom door.

"Anders! What in the Maker's name are you doing here?"

"The senior enchanters forbid me to see you. They think you'll fill my mind with ridiculous ideas about joining the Wardens. I was sneaking about during First Day Chant and saw you down here. The better question is what are you doing here?" He grinned mischievously.

Nuraya started to panic. Although overjoyed to see Anders, she did not want to cause any trouble. Especially not after breaking Circle protocol with Petra.

"You've got to get back upstairs! What if they catch us Anders?"

It was beginning to feel like old times. She was always wary of following Anders on his many missions. She was usually the one who ended up in trouble for whatever happened.

"Well then you'll just have to recruit me and let me tag along."

"If I could, I would, Anders. But I don't know how. There is a ritual…the Joining…it's very dangerous, but I don't know how to do it."

"Ooooh! Danger! You know how I love danger! What about that other Warden? I bet you he knows! Let's go find him." As he confidently strode forward, Nuraya pushed him back into the storeroom.

"You are being ridiculous. And he doesn't know the ritual." Nuraya turned her head and heard footsteps approaching. "Great Maferath! Someone is coming! Hide!" Anders retreated back into the storeroom and Nuraya shut the door.

"Is there something I can help you with Serrah?" An unknown and accusatory voice echoed from the main door. Nuraya scrubbed her forehead with the back of her head to erase any evidence of the illicit ritual. She prayed that Anders would behave and not raise any suspicions.

"Just helping myself to a sleeping tea…" she turned and saw the young templar approaching her. "Ser Cullen! I wondered if you remained at the Circle. How are you?"

She recalled the prison Uldred had conjured to trap Cullen during the Demonic siege. Writhing in pain, he had refused to reason with her, convinced she was a demon conjured to torment him even as she vowed to free him. Not seeing him during the immediate aftermath of Uldred's destruction, Nuraya figured he was sent abroad to convalesce.

"I've recovered, Warden Amell." Cullen relaxed and approached. "The nightmares have subsided, but otherwise I'm still fit to remain on duty. I've just received word that I will be transferred to Kirkwall once it is confirmed that the Circle is deemed safe."

Nuraya raised an eyebrow. "I thought that we assured this weeks ago?" She masked her suspicions and hostility toward the Chantry, a skill still keenly sharp despite her absence from these walls. "And please, it's Nuraya. No need for such formalities among friends." She hoped this would distract Cullen from raising any misgivings about her midnight wandering.

Cullen seemed awkward in front of her. He crossed his arms and tried to contain a wide smile. Each time she looked directly at him, he either looked up at the ceiling or scanned the room.

"It's good to see you again, Nuraya. I can't tell you how many times I have heard your name mentioned over these past weeks. And yes, the Chantry and the Circle are indebted for your service. I don't make these assessments about the Circle's security. This is what the Knight-Commander tells me. But, for what it's worth, it's been routine to the point of boredom. What brings you back? Will you be staying long?"

"I hope these tales you hear about me do not exaggerate my actions, Cullen. I've returned to ask a favour of the First Enchanter and I await his return from Denerim. My companions and I will leave as soon as I speak with him."

"Actually, he and I arrived a few hours ago. I am sorry you can't extend your stay, but from what I understand, a Grey Warden is in high demand as of late."

Nuraya could tell there was something else he wanted to admit, but for whatever reason, refused. For the sake of propriety, she continued with small talk, but in reality wanted to get rid of him, deal with Anders, and find her way back to her bunk.

"Was I that careless that I roused your attention down here?" she asked.

"I'm on duty and completing a security check. The Knight-Commander wants to ensure that the new mages are well behaved. I've caught them on a few occasions sneaking into the laboratory here. Not sure what they might be after, but you know, we can never be too sure. Personally, I think they just sneak down here to carry on with one another…you know…"

"I hope that I haven't broken any rules, Ser Cullen." She held out her hand with the sleeping tea. "I would've asked someone, but didn't want to wake anyone for the sake of a meager bit of tea."

"Oh, no worries…Warden…er… Nuraya. Please help yourself to anything you require." He stepped closer and took a deep breath. "There is something I wanted to say before you take your leave of the Circle."

Nuraya sensed what was coming, and wanted to avoid any awkwardness. Cullen reached out toward her, whether to touch her face or hand she could not be certain. His arm snapped back into position and he took a step back when the voice behind him called out.

"Nuraya! There you are!"

Alistair approached from the doorway and halted when he noticed Cullen in her company. The situation turned from bad to worse. Cullen stepped aside and offered a shallow bow, acknowledging his presence.

"I heard someone in the laboratory and came to investigate," he said to Alistair.

"I was helping myself to some tea," she said feebly.

All three stood in the dark laboratory in silence.

"I'll meet you back upstairs, Alistair." She had to deal with Anders and knew she would need to untangle another mess with Alistair later.

Alistair nodded sheepishly. "Sorry to interrupt, Nuraya, Ser…"

"Cullen," the templar replied.

"Right. Ser Cullen. Well, I guess everything is well in hand. I'll see you upstairs then." He turned and quickly left. She could almost read Alistair's mind: Puppy love with a dash of conspiracy my foot! Nuraya did not want to leave Cullen alone in the basement, in case he decided to search the storeroom. She had to get him out of there.

"Cullen, I have a bit of a favor to ask of you." She also wanted to change the subject and was not particularly interested in hearing what he wanted to tell her.

"A favor?"

"Would I be able to visit Anders? He is a dear friend of mine and I may never get a chance to see him again." She offered him her wide and pleading eyes, hoping that an innocent flirtation might help.

"Anders. Right." She sensed that he was already well acquainted with Ander's tricks.

"I only want five minutes. The senior enchanters refuse to let us visit, and I was thinking it would be acceptable if a templar supervised. I promise nothing untoward." She smiled sweetly, hoping that she was having some effect. Cullen scratched his chin and considered her request a bit longer. He shrugged.

"Given your service to the Circle and of the difficult road ahead of you…I'll take you."

She leaped forward and gave him a hug, hoping her acting was not too over the top. "Thank you!" she squealed in a whisper.

Cullen led her up the winding staircase to the Mage's quarters on the third floor. She quickly developed her plan, not wanting Cullen to discover Ander's empty bunk. Abruptly, she stopped in the hallway.

"Is something wrong?" Cullen asked.

"Is it too late to change my mind? I'm so impulsive. You'll have to pardon me. If Irving found out, he'd be very angry with me. I shouldn't have involved you. I'm sorry! I'll just go back to bed."

Cullen gave her an odd look as she turned toward the stairwell. All this running up and down the Circle stairs was exhausting.

"I shall escort you then."

"No, please, I have already inconvenienced you twice this evening." She tried very hard to hide her annoyance with his persistence.

"It's no bother. Gives me something to do. Plus, no one will question your midnight wanderings if they see us together. Let's go."

They returned to the stairwell and Nuraya set a quick pace to get back to her dormitory. Cullen bowed as he dropped her off on the second floor.

"I shall take my leave then, I must attend to my duties." His tone was less authoritative than before. "Maker be with you Warden. If I'm to understand the magnitude of your task, then I shall seek the Revered Mother's blessing on your behalf."

"That is greatly appreciated Cullen. Thank you so much for all your help. I won't forget your kindness. Do take care and travel well."

He looked at her and placed a hand on her cheek. "If circumstances were different…," he muttered. She allowed him to continue, she felt that she owed him that much.

"Fate is often cruel." She may have fallen for Cullen had the situation been any different. She also did not want to part with him unkindly. Kirkwall, it was rumoured, made Kinloch Hold seem like a palace.

"I bid thee good-night then," and she watched him march down the hall.

"Did I interrupt something?" Alistair asked. She turned around, and could not tell if he was on the verge of tears, or about to lose his temper.

"No nothing." She wondered if she should admit the entire situation to him. She paused and grew concerned over Anders' safety.

"Uh, I'll be right back. I think I left something downstairs." Although she was tired, she was impressed she was able to think so quickly on her feet. Without waiting for Alistair's response, she made for the back staircase. Even if he decided to follow her, it would not be as disastrous as Cullen discovering Anders.

She arrived back at the storeroom and hoped that Anders had not found himself into more trouble. When she opened the door, he was leaning nonchalantly against a mud wall. With the use of fire magic, she lit a lantern that hung beside his head.

Nuraya smiled and gave him a hug. He was like a little brother to her, and she was one of the few Circle mages who appreciated his antics. Most of her attitudes about the Chantry came from him. While he had the tendency to take his opinions too far, she believed the current policy needed questioning.

"How I've missed you, Anders!"

"Out flirting with Cullen I see. You Wardens have no boundaries!"

"Oh shush. You know that's not why I was down here. Don't say a word of this by the way. Petra did me a huge favor. Please don't get her into trouble."

"Who am I to question an illicit teaching? Once I learn how to share magic, I'll be doing that all over Ferelden."

Nuraya rolled her eyes playfully. "Still getting into trouble, then. Things haven't changed."

"Once I get out of here, you'll find out what change really means."

"You're not thinking of escaping again? Oh Anders, is that what you really want?

Anders laughed. "Of course! I'd rather be chased throughout Ferelden by a battalion of templars than to stew in this rat hole. We're not all so lucky to be recruited to the Grey Wardens."

"You be careful. Look what happened to Jowan."

Anders scowled. "Jowan was weak. Blood magic is a symptom of a limited mind. I won't need a sodding demon to set things straight."

That statement offered Nuraya some reassurance. "So you're going to change the world all on your own then?"

"Oh don't be so narrow minded, Nuraya. What are you off to do? Stop a Blight? I think I might be able to change a few things myself." She could tell he was teasing, but knew he was deadly serious about his intentions.

"Just be careful then. The Darkspawn are not to be trifled with. They are dangerous and they will kill you. If I survive this Blight, I promise to get you out of here."

"I know you will, Nuraya. You're so sweet, but so bloody naïve! Have you not been listening? I won't be here for long." He emphasized his last statement.

Nuraya was too tired to argue and not in the mood to wrangle with his stubbornness.

"Well whatever happens, I will find you, and we'll change the world together." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "I have to get back upstairs before I rouse more suspicions."

She turned toward the storeroom door and peeked out to make sure the coast was clear.

"Hey Nuraya…I'm proud of you. Jealous yes, but mostly proud." His comment brought tears to her eyes.

"Stay safe, brother," she whispered and tiptoed back to the stairwell.

Something caught Nuraya's eye as she walked into her dormitory. It was a dried rose bloom, lying on the floor. It was an odd thing to find. She picked it up and decided to put it in her pack. Of all the potions, poisons and assorted weapons, she decided she had room some something pretty. The room was quiet and still. She crawled under the blankets, and wondered how she was going to deal with Alistair the next day. Even the chaos of her evening could not keep her from drifting asleep.


Another tip of the hat to Kira Tamarion for her magic beta abilities and to DoorbellSpider whose advice shaped a good chunk of this chapter. I think you'll be more satisfied with this incarnation DB! Also, I bow in prostration to Bioware's fabulous writing team and collective imaginations. I might not own any of the characters or the ideas, but I own Nuraya's soul. ;) Finally, I see visitors from all over the globe and I welcome each of you to my story. I will admit that things start a little slow. Give me a chance. Nuraya has to get used to all this new found freedom. Reviews and comments are welcome and appreciated!