Never had he been so glad to see a sunrise. Alistair sank heavy against the Chantry steps, letting the sword slip from his fingers. Still the sky was hazy, the rain threatening, but the light there was unmistakable. The creatures had turned from it, disappearing back into the hills, not routed so much as outlasted. He supposed they should be grateful.

But what of the cost? So few there had been and now there were fewer still. Already the men were dragging their fallen comrades round the side of the Chantry, giving them over to the pyre lest they risk facing them tonight. Already the heat rose prickling, already he had to turn his face from the stench.

Teagan sat beside him. Bloodied and exhausted, he still seemed tense, restless, leaning forward to rest elbows on his knees. "Where is your hound?"

Alistair let his head sink between his shoulders. "It's… not mine."

"But you recognized it, I'm sure."

It had appeared on the hills above, the howl numbing, paralyzing, a terror unlike anything he had ever heard. But their enemies had felt it too. The mabari had torn through them easily, apparently as eager for rotted flesh as for darkspawn blood. Larger than he remembered, its coat was thick and slick and standing on end, but he was sure it was the same. It, too, had disappeared with the coming of the sun.

He nodded. "It was at Ostagar."

"Let us be thankful for small blessings, then." His gaze turned again to the town, straying to the castle above.

Alistair, though, looked again to the pyre, to the wounded being carried up the steps. Leliana had accompanied the sisters into the Chantry. "To pray with them," she had said. Funny, after last night he had almost forgotten that she was almost one of them. Even Morrigan had gone amongst the wounded, doing what she could with herbs and poultices. Her skill at healing was meager at best, but already she had gathered ingredients, brewed a hasty batch of salves. She worked without a word, scowling silent and refusing to meet his eyes. Small blessings indeed.

She came to stand before them now, gaze hardening. Bending, she slipped forceful fingers beneath Teagan's chin, tilting his head upward. "I could attempt to heal it if you wish."

He grabbed her wrist gently, coming to his feet. "You have my thanks, but it's not necessary." He smiled, laying a kiss upon the back of her hand. "And I think it should look quite dashing once it heals."

Morrigan sniffed. "Or perhaps you just don't want an apostate laying hands on you."

Letting her hand fall, Teagan winked. He turned to Alistair then, stiffening as he again glanced cross the lake. "Do your people require more time to rest? Or shall we go now?"

"To the castle?"

He nodded. "Let us end this today."

The windmill perched high on the hills above the town, the other buildings seeming suddenly so small below. Here, though, here the castle loomed quiet and ominous, just across the gorge. Whatever waited there could take them easily if they attempted to cross the bridge.

Leliana had come to stand beside him, slipping close, too close to the edge. "Hey." He lay a steadying hand on her arm.

She blinked, eyes turning slowly to meet his.

"You're thinking of your dream again?"

She nodded. "It seems I always am, even when I'm awake."

"Trust me, I know the feeling." He followed her gaze to the hill below, to the inn still smoking there. There hadn't been time to quench the flames during the fighting, no time yet to search the wreckage from anyone who might have been holed up inside.

"It just feels… wrong somehow."

Alistair turned, not bothering to hide his surprise. "It does." Slipping his arm through hers, he stepped back from the edge. "But just… don't go jumping off of anything when you're awake, okay? Might need you yet."

There was something soft behind her smirk.

Morrigan, though, stepped round, peering fearlessly over the edge with a snort. Folding her arms, she whirled back to Teagan. "So this secret passage of yours… It seems awfully convenient, does it not?"

He sighed. "I did not tell you because I thought you would take the assault to the castle and I could not abandon the town. But you are right. We need to get to Eamon. We need to—"

"—Teagan!"

Alistair felt his eyes pinch shut. He had not heard that voice in years.

"Oh!" She gasped. "Oh Maker! Teagan!" Hesitant fingers fluttered at his cheek, trembling tears warring with revulsion as she pursed her lips. Lady Isolde. The Arl's wife.

"Isolde." He smiled down at her, sighing as she turned away from the puckering scar.

"Um… Lady Isolde? Hi. Nice to, erm… see you again."

She whirled, eyes narrowing. "Alistair? What are you doing here?"

Teagan lay a hand on her arm. "He's a Grey Warden, Isolde. He and his friends… they are here to help. But where is Eamon? Connor? How did you get out?"

"Connor! Oh Maker, Connor!" She fell against him, still refusing to meet his eye. "Teagan! You must come!"

Behind them, Sten grunted. "This is not helpful."

"She comes from the castle; it stands to reason that she is as cursed as the others. Perhaps we should kill her."

Alistair turned to Morrigan with a sigh. "We're not killing her."

Isolde straightened as he stepped forward, that old glare seeming to give her strength.

"Lady Isolde? What is going on? Where's Eamon? Maybe… maybe we can help."

She shook her head. "Teagan. I need to bring Teagan. Only Teagan. That's why… that's why it let me go."

Teagan blinked at that, laying a hand on her arm. "Then I will come."

"But isn't that…?"

"A trap?" He quirked a brow. "Perhaps. But then I will be caught in it, not you. Here. Take my ring, follow the tunnels as we discussed. I do not promise that it will be easy, but with any luck I will see you there."

Dropping the signet ring into Alistair's hand, he turned and followed Isolde toward the bridge.

"Great."

"Maker's breath! What was that?" It had faded round his blade, seeming to collapse inward, leaving only a pile of empty robes.

"A revenant, I believe." Morrigan leaned on her staff, brushing a stray bit of dust from her hair. "There is something… powerful here. Something that does not wish us to go further."

"But that was… that was… wow!"

"Yes, yes very intriguing. Do you plan to stop and mourn every creature that we dispatch?"

Alistair scowled, mounting the stairs to the castle proper. "Just… shut up." He was tired, he realized, more tired than he could ever remember being. He understood now, the haggard expressions of the townspeople, the flat and dark-rimmed eyes.

There had been more of the creatures in the tunnels below, seeming to swarm endless as they cut their way up and through the castle. They had found only two people alive. The girl had barricaded herself in a storeroom, three of the creatures setting upon her even as they pushed through the door. Too late, again too late. Sten pushed the other up the stairs now, hand still gripping hard to the mage's collar.

They had found him in the dungeon, cowering from the corpses straining against the bars. Jowan had admitted to everything readily enough, blood magic, poisoning the Arl, his affiliation with Loghain. But this was his fault and he was coming with them.

Alistair scowled. "You could have helped, you know."

"Could I? But I thought… you had forbidden me from…"

Behind him, the qunari growled. "This is why mages should be leased." Dragging him roughly up the stairs, he pushed through the doors.

But it was quiet here, no cries, no screams, no rush of the shambling dead. Alistair steadied his shield, slipping forward cautiously. This, this he had not expected.

Teagan twirled once, twice, twisting cross the length of the great hall before dropping into a sweeping bow. A fire roared on the dais at the room's end, outlining a hunched and weeping Isolde, the tiny figure at her side.

"That is the remigold? It's boring. Perhaps, Uncle, I should make you put on a dress and try the lady's part."

"Connor, please."

The boy's eyes snapped up with a hiss, Teagan sagging like a puppet whose strings had been cut. "And what do we have here Mother? More guests?"

"This… this is Alistair, Connor. A Grey Warden. He's here… he's here to help your father."

"To spoil my fun, you mean."

Still he held his shield as they made their way into the room, but Morrigan had quickened her pace, folding her arms beneath a wondering sneer. "So. The boy has become an abomination."

"I told you. The boy has managed to tear the veil." At Sten's shove, Jowan fell to his knees. "It wasn't me."

"Jowan?"

"Lady Isolde, I'm—"

"—Enough!" Connor straightened, Teagan slinking to curl at his feet like a beaten hound. "The Grey Warden will tell me what it is doing here."

"It's… I… your mother spoke the truth. I'm here to help your father."

"But my father is taken care of." One of the boy's hands slipped lingeringly cross his chest, twisting to curl at his hip as he stretched. "I am taking care of him."

"Riiight. Slightly creepy…"

"Silence! Uncle! Guards!"

Teagan moved quick, scooping up his sword from beside the hearth, leaping down the stairs with a wild swing. Alistair got his shield up just in time. Behind him the doors were thrown wide, heavily armored guardsmen pouring through to ring them round. But this came almost easy now, Sten and Leliana and Morrigan taking up their positions at his back. Still, he found himself being cautious, blade spinning in his hand, the flat taking Teagan in the temple. The others were not so lucky.

He stirred as they fell, groaning as Alistair helped him to his feet. Connor was gone.

Rubbing a hand against his head, Teagan smirked. "My thanks." Isolde had come to his side, but he waved her away, gaze hardening. "What did you do?"

Her lip trembled as her eyes widened. "I… Connor, he-he showed the signs. I-I did not want Eamon to know. I brought Jowan here to train him."

"And now he has torn the veil. Well done."

She barely glanced at Morrigan, turning instead to Jowan. "I did not know he was a blood mage! When Eamon fell ill…"

Still the man hunched, but now he raised his eyes. "This is not blood magic. I'm afraid the demon…" He sighed. "The woman spoke true. He has become an abomination."

"No!"

"Isolde." Teagan took her gently by the shoulders. "Isolde…"

"But he-he is keeping Eamon alive, I know it! That is… that can't be…"

"Isolde. We will find the Urn. But Connor…" He looked to Alistair. "You. What do you think?"

"Me?" He could feel the other eyes on him now. "I…"

Morrigan snorted. "The boy is an abomination. The choice would seem to be clear." Sten nodded his assent.

It was Leliana who moved to stand beside him, laying a hand on his arm. "There must be another way."

"The Circle! You could go to the Tower, ask them to help!" Isolde whirled now, blinking up at him. Him. Why him?

"The Circle. Right. Yeah."

Behind him Sten shifted. "And what will happen here in the meantime?"

"There is… there is another way." Jowan turned, eyes darting nervously. "The demon resides in the Fade, exercises its hold from there. We could… send a mage to face it there… to drive it out. But it would require… blood."

"Blood magic? You want to use blood magic?"

"It would save the boy."

"And you think you could do it? Drive it out?"

He shook his head. "I would be the one working the ritual… I couldn't… it would have to be another mage."

Alistair turned slowly. Her arms were folded, scowl perhaps deeper than he had ever seen it. "No."

"What do you mean 'no?'"

"Just as it was said. No."

He found himself striding forward, fingers digging hard against the witch's arm to drag her aside. His whisper came hissed. "How can you—?"

Morrigan sneered, squaring her shoulders. "—Enter the Fade? Place myself in the care of a Blood Mage who has proven both useless and a traitor? Why should I risk myself on a fool's errand? Especially when the fool who leads us doesn't even trust the idea?"

"I-I don't know…"

But she was slipping around him, returning to the others.

He followed hunched, reluctantly meeting Isolde's eyes. "I'm sorry."

She sagged, wailing, but Teagan nodded as he caught her. "You cannot force her to do it if she does not wish to."

Alistair looked to Jowan. "Could you? Force her?"

He shook his head.

"So what… what do we do now?"

Still cradling Isolde, Teagan placed a hand on his shoulder. "He will be upstairs with Eamon. Just… please… make it quick."

It would haunt him, he knew, the look of resignation on those scarred and twisted features, the echo of the mother's wails. Walking armor, the hiss of rotted ones, the blood pooling in these familiar halls… it blurred, all blurred. Still he held to disbelief. This walk, this path, what awaited him above. Even seeing the boy, his back buckling and changing, the wicked smile, the demon's slithering caress…

Alistair leaned heavy on his sword. Sleeping. It looked like he was sleeping. But the eyes came open now, fixing him with a pleading stare.

"Please…"

He pinched shut his eyes, turning away. The demon had fallen, but still Connor lay before him, still he trembled.

"Please…"

Sten sheathed his sword. "The Blight awaits."

"The boy is an abomination. Do what must be done."

Again Leliana came to his side, shaking her head as he met his eyes. "You… you were a templar. I suppose… I suppose it is only what you were meant to do."

"No!" Isolde came dashing up the hall, kneeling to cradle the boy to her chest. There was hate there, anger, unlike anything that he had ever seen. "You cannot!"

"Don't touch it… it's not…"

"Connor!" She rocked now, glaring as Alistair crouched before her.

"Lady Isolde… don't make this any harder than it has to be…"

"No!" The slap rang out, the sting blooming cross his cheek.

Touching wondering fingers there, Alistair stood. She moved with him, laying the boy back against the bloodied stones, her fists coming wild against his chest. He caught her wrist roughly as she swung for his head. "Please… someone… someone hold her."

"No!"

He didn't see who took her from him, pulling her gently but insistently away. The sword was in his hand again, those eyes open, staring, pleading still. There… the chest… rising, falling, peaceful. As he brought the blade down, Alistair turned his eyes away.