Everything had gone wrong. That was usual. Hawke had thought she had gotten off easy trading a favor for the Deep Roads map, but in hindsight, maybe agreeing to free a mage from the Circle was not the best idea for an apostate in hiding. The meeting with Karl was a trap. Of course it was. She had a long night of being set up by a tranquil, ambushed by Templars, and she had befriended another man who just happened to glow blue. What was new? She thanked the Maker that she had the sense to leave Carver at home or she would have never heard the end of it.

She shuddered thinking of Karl again. Her father had told her stories about tranquils, but this was the first time she had ever seen one up close. It was worse than she had ever imagined. No laughter, no anger, nothing. Gone. It was one of Hawke's greatest fears as a child. She could not imagine just being nothing, to have her whole essence just ripped away and discarded. Hawke hoped that if she was ever captured and turned Tranquil that her husk would have enough sense to walk off a cliff. She'd rather die than be a shadow of herself.

Hawke yawned and stretched, trying to push out the terrible memory. She was a Hawke, so naturally she refused to let things like that get her down for long. Her whole body was still sore from the battle, and she was dog-tired. The sun was too bright, Lowtown smelled of a privy, and the bustling market of customers and shopkeeps noisily bartering was too grating for her ragged mind. It was now noon and she had been awake for a least 24 hours. She had spent the whole night hiding out with Anders in his clinic, too wary to go home just yet, but she had heard no word of any Templars. Perhaps they had no leads. After all, they hadn't exactly left witnesses.

She grimaced when she finally arrived at Gamlen's house. When they had arrived in Kirkwall, her uncle claimed it was a 'nice' place, but it was nothing more than a termite-ridden hovel that smelled of old cheese and spoiled porridge. Carver and Charlotte were sleeping on the floor right along side their mabari, Ramsay. Though to be fair, they at least claimed their own corner. She hated living like this, but she was so exhausted that found she was actually looking forward to laying on her straw-filled potato sack.

She sluggishly pushed the door open and dragged herself inside to see Carver and her mother already having a frantic conversation around their small dining room table, which was nothing more than a slice of wood nailed onto a barrel. At her presence, they simultaneously turned and stood up. Ramsay jumped over and barked excitedly, greeting her home, but Carver commanded in a booming voice, "in the bedroom!"

The mabari whimpered, ears back and tail between his legs, but he obeyed.

"Hey," she hummed trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes. "Sorry I was out-"

"Where were you?" Carver wasted no time to get into her face. She flinched as his spit flung onto her cheek and she made a show of wiping it off her face.

"I was on a job. You knew this." she said with a raised eyebrow, betraying nothing. Carver and Mother's face were both grave, full of fear. "Did I miss something?"

"Yes, Charlotte," Carver continued. He looked angry enough to hit her. "While you were off playing hero, we got a visit from one of your Templars."

"Popular today am I?" she tilted her head, determined not to show weakness. "They asked for me by name?

"They said it was a routine visit," her mother told her. Her light brown eyes were looking at her fidgeting hands, rubbed raw. It was a nervous trait they shared. "There were some murders in the Chantry last night so they claim they're just making inquisitions."

"Then I don't see why you two are ambushing me about this? They're probably asking everyone." She waved her hand and lazily stretched, dismissing it. She tried to head for her bedroom before they could ask more questions, but Carver grabbed her by the shoulder and stopped her. She glared at him and shrugged it off.

"Charlotte, they were murdered with magic," he growled, emphasizing the last word like he had said a slur.

"That doesn't mean-"

"Where were you?" he asked again.

Hawke stared at her brother. His dark eyes were burning his anger and his bent, beaky nose was rippled in a snarl. She bit her lip and looked away. She couldn't think of a lie that would satisfy either of them. "Carver, I got the maps-"

"You little-" Mother shot a glare at him before he could finish the insult and he quickly swallowed it down. "To hell with your blighted maps! What good will they do when your imprisoned in the Circle?"

"Well then I should probably start plotting a daring escape, then," she shrugged. She was much too tired to argue with any of them.

"Listen to your brother," her mother cried. There were tears in her eyes. Her mother knew how to wield guilt as effectively as any weapon. "You promised me that you wouldn't use your magic. You know how dangerous this is."

"I…" Charlotte paused. What could she say? "I won't insult your intelligence by saying I wasn't but believe me when I say I had no other choice."

"So you lied to me?" her mother accused.

Hawke bit her lip so hard it almost bled. "I didn't want you to worry."

Leandra collapsed back onto her chair at the dining room table and rubbed her forehead. "Maker's Breath, Charlotte."

Hawke was momentarily overcome with guilt, but she was frustrated at the same time. Her mother wanted them to buy back the estate, but she didn't want Carver or her to do the necessary work. If Hawke only chose jobs that appealed to her mother's sensibilities they would die in this hovel.

She sat across from her mother and took her hands into her own. "Mother, this is going to work. We have the will to the estate. We have the maps. Give a few more weeks and I'll have the coin to finance Bartrand's expedition. When I come back, we'll be so filthy, stinking rich that Templars will need to write out forms just to touch me with a 10-foot pole."

"When 'we' come back," Carver reminded her.

"Of course. I couldn't do this without you." Her mother flinched when she said that and refused to look in Hawke's eyes. "Mother, Carver, you both have very valid points, but I am doing this for all of us." Carver scoffed at that, but she ignored it. "If we do nothing, it's not a matter of if the Templars find me, it's when."

"Well I'm sure we'd all appreciate it if you didn't leave a trail right to us," Carver groused.

"You're right," she sighed excusing herself from the table with her hands up. She could placate her mother but she couldn't and wouldn't deal with Carver when he was in this mood.

"But you just got home! Charlotte!" her mother tried to grab her, but Carver put a hand on their mother's shoulder.

"Let her go. Running away from the problems she creates is all she's good at," he spat.

She flashed a fiery glare at Carver. "Go with your strengths, right?" and then slammed the door behind her.

Fenris paced the mansion, anxious about his decision to stay. The very first mission the witch called on him was to free a mage from the Circle to acquire access to maps from an abomination. 'I certainly know how to choose my allies," he thought bitterly. He didn't object during the mission. Well, he didn't object as much as he could have. He told himself to try to see this as a chance to observe his new employer and figure out what kind of person she was. What he had found was that Hawke was headstrong, arrogant, and had a peculiar sense of humor that she seemed incapable of turning off. Worst of all she had a completely naive view on her own magic.

Fenris understood evil, but he wasn't sure what to do with a fool.

He had heard no word from Athenril, though to be fair it had only been a couple of days since he had thrown himself to her mercy. There were only a few things that he had instructed them to do after his mission with Danarius was done, that she would arrange all contact between them and to not tell Hawke of her involvement. He found that curious, but he saw no reason to tell the mage.

Fenris attempted sleep, but it had been so long since he had a bed, he could only manage a few hours. It didn't help that the sheets smelled of mold and were full of holes. But it did feel good to be out of his armor. He had worn it for so long, it felt more like a second skin than a piece of equipment.

There was nothing to run from anymore, but he still felt like running. The house was too quiet and his thoughts too loud. He did find rustling in some of the walls of the house, but after inspection, he found it was just rats nesting. He was in no mood to deal with them at that moment. He'd work on it later just like he'd work on scrubbing out all of the demon blood and making the rest of the mansion livable. 'Later,' he promised himself. He sighed deeply at that thought. He had never had a later before.

So with nothing else to do, he paced from room to room, trying to arrange his chaotic thoughts.

A knock at the door interrupted him, and he reached for the hilt of his sword. He couldn't imagine who it could possibly be, but hunters didn't knock. He considered just waiting for whoever it was to simply go away.

"Fenris?" Hawke's voice called. "Do you still live here?"

He let go of his sword, and ran to the door. A job would distract him for awhile. He took a deep breath and turned the heavy door knob to see Hawke juggling an over sized bag. The mage still hadn't changed from yesterday and there were dark circles under eyes. Her hair was slightly unkempt, and it looked like some blood was still clumped in places of it. Behind her, there were a few noble onlookers who were whispering amongst themselves as they perched on their toes trying to take a better peek at them.

"Hawke?" He expected someone to accompany her after he had made his distaste of her clear.

"Oh, good," she tittered, pushing her own way inside. "Brought some food over. Where's the kitchen?"

The elf stared in disbelief. Fenris wasn't sure what to make of this mage and yet he told himself that he would try to keep an open mind at least. Foolish or no, she had fought off a whole battalion of soldiers and was going to brave down a magister. She seemed to have good intentions, but he knew very well that evil was always convinced of their own good intentions.

"Fenris, where's the kitchen?" Hawke asked again.

He had realized he had not answered her question. "It's through the hallway to the right," he muttered and before he could protest, she tottered off.

"It occurred to me that since you've given me all your coin you wouldn't have any money for shopping and that last job didn't exactly pay well," she prattled on as if she was addressing an old friend. Fenris had forgotten that he hadn't eaten since yesterday, and all he was able to afford was whatever slop they had served in that filthy tavern. What was it called? The Hanged Man. This hadn't bothered him since he rarely had daily meals.

"That's thoughtful," he murmured his thanks, but his voice was hard and unconvinced.

"'That's thoughtful,' he says to the suspicious mage. You remind me of my brother," she laughed brushing the dust off of the table with her sleeve before unloading the bags. She brought out a wheel of cheese, three apples, a small basket of eggs, some potatoes, an assortment of nuts as well as a few other things.

Fenris was confused about her intentions, but she was still attempting to be kind and he met it with anger. "I apologize. I meant thank you," Fenris said, but the words tasted bitter in his mouth even as his stomach knotted at the sight of real food.

"Well you should thank yourself. Technically you paid for this," Hawke chuckled. She looked around, frowning at the disarray in the kitchen. The sink was filled with black mold and the pots and pans hanging were caked with rust. Beautiful ebony wooded counters were now dusted with spider webs and dirt, and parts of it had rotted and collapsed on itself. There were ceramic fragments scattered at their feet and every step that Hawke took made a sharp crackle under her boots. Fenris had already cut his heel earlier trying to navigate the kitchen, and was carefully sweeping away shards with the side of his foot before he took each step.

Hawke shrugged as if she didn't notice and chattered on. "Wish I could afford some meat. The only time I get any is when I get the slop at the Hanged Man. I swear they make it with rats." She laughed some more at her little joke before heading to one of the cupboards in attempt to find a place for everything. She slid it open and yelped. Fire flashed from her fingertips as a rat scurried out squeaking in terror. It landed on the counter and scampered out of the kitchen to a convenient a hole in the wall.

She laughed nervously at Fenris' glare. "Believe it or not, this is still a better set-up than my Uncle's place," she joked.

But Fenris continued glaring, completely unamused. "Are you always this careless with your magic?"

"Only in public," she said sheepishly.

He slapped his hand on the table in warning, but he miscalculated his anger and his palm paid for it with a sharp sting. "Why are you here, mage?"

"Glad you asked," she said, unaffected by his outburst. "I have a debt that I need to repay, and I'm guessing that it'll be a little dangerous for a squishy mage like me. I could use another sword between me and any bandits." He was silent. After all this, she still trusted him to protect her? She either had no sense of self-preservation or was complete fool, though he wondered if those traits were mutually exclusive for her.

When he didn't answer right away, Hawke quickly added, "I'd ask Carver but he's being a little shit, today."

Fenris stiffened. He saw how Carver had protected her in battle as well as how he defended Hawke when she was confronted about her magic. She was lucky to have such a devoted brother. How casually she dismissed him. "I'll be ready in a moment," he said acidly.

"Eat if you haven't. I'm in no hurry."

"I'm fine," he lied. "Just give me a moment to dress and we can leave."

A fresh battle and bright sunshine woke up Hawke's sleepy nerves. The air was fresh with the smell of evergreens and dust. The mountain winds felt brisk on her exposed skin. She found it hard not to think about Lothering as they hiked. Carver, Bethany and she used to play in rolling hills similar to these. The slope they were climbing reminded her of one Carver pushed her down when she was 16; broke her good arm. In retaliation she had broken his good nose. They all rushed back to Lothering swearing at each other as they held their bleeding appendages. Bethany's diplomacy skills was sometimes the only thing that kept Carver and Charlotte from killing each other, but nothing had ever made them civil.

As they walked through the door, she remembered her mother's mortified face. She pinched both of their ears and roughly guided them to the dining room table, chiding them for their childishness and stupidity. When Bethany fetched their father, Hawke expected the same scolding about how she was not doing her job as the eldest, but he looked at them and laughed so hard there were tears in his eyes. Her mother yelled at her father, claiming that he was encouraging them. "Like oil and water," her father had described Carver and her. "They don't mix well but taste good in a salad." Hawke was forced to apologize for her part in the fight, but she couldn't help but feel pride every time she looked at Carver's nose. It never did set back right.

"Shit, Hawke, did I ever tell you that I hate nature," Varric's voice interrupted her daydreams.

"Really, I always thought that dwarves would be one with the earth," she teased. She had forgotten how much she missed being out of the city.

"You obviously haven't met many dwarves," Varric groused. He was desperately trying to scrape spider blood and dirt off of his new, shiny leather boots with a nearby rock, but it just seemed to smear it around. His boots would be stained green. "Next time you think of asking me along on these fun outdoorsy adventures- don't."

"Oh, but think of all the fun you'll miss," she teased which pulled a smile out of the dwarf's frown. Varric and her were becoming fast friends.

Finally after a long stretch of road, they came upon the echoes of what might have been a fortress. Large slabs of vertically sculpted rock jutted out of the ground. Perhaps it was once a wall or an arch. It was hard to tell. There were smooth stones strategically placed in the gravel, as if this road was once paved. Red flags waved along with the tops of the pine trees and as they got closer, she saw red-flagged landships in the distance. She had heard about the Dalish traveling among them, but she had never seen them before.

Hawke sighed in relief, she was finally here. She knew that she should have settled her debt as soon as she arrived in Kirkwall, but for one reason or another, she had never gotten around to it. Hawke feared that the Dalish had already moved on and she'd be stuck with the witch's amulet. She didn't want to figure out what would happen if she had crossed a witch of the wilds.

Two elven warriors blocked their path into the camp, and they drew their weapons flashing unwelcoming glares. "Turn back, shemlen. Your kind is not welcome here," the Dalish-man ordered, and pointed a slung arrow at Hawke's heart. He had black hair that was slicked back and hate in his elven green eyes. A female warrior with a blade and shield stood beside him. She had her dark hair slicked into a perfect ponytail and the prettiest shade of brown that Hawke had ever seen. 'Maybe they're siblings,' she thought, but then realized that the elves probably thought humans all looked similar as well.

Hawke held up her hands in feigned innocence. "Pardon?"

"It's the elven word for human." Fenris answered. He had his hand ready near the hilt of his blade, and glared defiantly at the Dalish elves. "Are you sure you owe a debt here?"

"Debt?" the Dalish-woman sheathed her sword. "She must be the one the Keeper spoke about."

"A shemlen?" he said incredulously, but only slightly loosened his arrow. "I was sure she'd be an elf."

"Yeah sorry about that, but I'm not expecting tea." Hawke forced out a chuckle but they seemed unamused with her remark. She groaned inwardly, but not all her jokes could be gems.

The male elf grumbled but finally lowered his bow. "Go in. But be warned. Our arrows are trained on you."

She mock-saluted and followed the warriors inside. The archer was not kidding. Any elf who possessed a bow had theirs readily aimed at Hawke and her group. Everyone else just stared with wary eyes. The only one with a calm expression was an elder elven woman with who stood attentively by the campfire. She had a soft look to her face, and her gaze was not hard like the rest of the clan. She held her gray hair in a neat but simple bun, and she had strange yellow tattoos that accentuated her skin. In her hands she had a strange bladed staff that Hawke had never seen before, but she could sense that there was magic coming from it.

"I take it you're the Keeper?" Not that Hawke had a clue what that even meant.

"Andaran atish'an, travelers. I am Marethari, Keeper of this clan," the woman smiled warmly at her. "You must be Hawke."

"I was told to bring you this amulet," Hawke dug it out of her coinpurse and dangled it in front of her like she was holding a dead animal by it's tail. It was a simple silver thing. In the middle appeared to be glass and a red liquid sloshed inside. Blood, she guessed, but it didn't seem to dry. Sometimes she'd stare at it and swore that there were eyes within it, staring back. The thought made her skin crawl. It was probably worth some coin, but Hawke felt great magic inside of it and didn't dare let it out of her grasp. For a second, she recalled how the pickpocket at the Merchant's Guild almost took off with it. Hawke never told Varric how grateful she was for catching that cutpurse.

"Let me look at you." The keeper ignored the amulet, and grabbed her chin with a sharp pinch of her nails. Her green eyes studied Hawke intently, and she twisted her head sideways and again. As she felt the Keepers hands on her face, Hawke could feel something stirring within her. Was this mage calling to her? Finally, with a satisfied sigh, the Keeper let her go. "There is a light in your heart, child. Asha'bellanar must have seen it as well."

Hawke chuckled nervously, feeling terribly awkward. "Oh well, that's nice. Um, here I am, like I promised. Let me just drop this off so I can get going. Nice meeting you and all." Hawke tried to hand over the amulet again but the elf held up her hand in refusal.

"I'm afraid it won't be that easy, child," the Keeper chuckled. "It is not yet ready. You must take the amulet on top of the mountain and perform a ritual, a right of the departed. Once you do that, return it to me, and your debt with Asha'bellanar will be fulfilled."

'Of course it would be something like this,' Hawke thought as she slipped the amulet back in her coinpurse.

"I thought you said this would be a quick trip," Varric grumbled.

"It still might be," she said sheepishly. "So, uh, how do I perform this ritual. I won't have to…sacrifice a goat or anything, will I?"

"Such strange ideas that you have of the Dalish," the Keeper said, raising her eyebrows. Hawke silently scolded herself. She had a natural knack of offending others. "You will take my First with you up the mountain. She will see that the ritual is done. And when that is complete, I must ask that you take her with you."

"Okay," Hawke agreed carefully. "Just seems a little odd."

"It is her wish and I must grant it. You'll find Merrill waiting for you on the trail just up the mountain. Dareth Shiral." The Keeper closed her eyes and then turned from them, effectively ending that conversation.

Hawke gnashed her teeth as they headed up the path. She was visibly irritated. The witch had told her it was simple, and she guessed it still was. Go up the mountain, perform a funeral, and run back down it to deliver a blood amulet to the elves that had pointy sticks aimed at them. Still, something about this whole place unnerved her. The sun didn't seem to reach this land, and the veil…it felt incredibly thin. Nothing good ever came from a thin veil.

Suddenly, Hawke heard something like a high-pitched whine. She looked back at her group who seemed unperturbed by the sound. "Don't you hear that?"

They stared blankly back at her. "I don't hear anything, Hawke," Aveline told her. Her friend's thoughts seemed to be elsewhere.

Hawke shook her head and continued walking but the sound was getting louder with each step. Around the corner she saw a small body crouching down and a strange light coming out of the girl's hands. The elf looked over her shoulder and her eyes widened in alarm.

"Oh, I didn't hear," she quickly shoved something into her bag and brushed herself off nervously. The sound abruptly stopped, and Hawke stuck her finger in her ear, trying to get rid of the echo.

The First was a small elf, armored with light chain mail and a light, leather vest that matched the color of her moss green eyes. Her hair reminded Hawke of a little ebony crown and her fair skin that was etched with delicate swirling tattoos. "You must be the one the Keeper told me about. Aneth ara," the elf gave a nervous smile, but it soon twisted into a panic. "I'm so sorry. I didn't ask your name. Unless…it's not rude to ask a human their name is it?"

"Not usually," Aveline said with a kind smile.

"I'm Merrill, which you probably knew already. I'm rambling sorry," she cast her eyes down as she nervously fiddled with her staff.

"You'll have to work harder than that to offend me," Hawke chuckled, which made Fenris huff for some reason. She pointed to herself saying, "Name's Hawke. This here's my good friend Aveline-"

"Nice to meet you," Aveline bowed her head.

"This dwarf's my business partner Varric…" He responded with a polite bow.

"And Fenris…" Hawke paused not sure what to call Fenris and herself. He stared back at her, as if he wondered as well. "Let's just call him an acquaintance of mine."

Merrill mimicked a bow in return, and seemed to relax slightly. "Thank you. I'm afraid I'm not very experienced with people outside of my clan. Dalish mothers tell their children terrible stories about humans."

Hawke and Aveline shifted uncomfortably which seemed to cause Merrill to panic. "Not that they tell stories about you. Not bad ones anyway- not that you're not worthy of your own stories…I'll just shut up, now."

But Hawke and Varric laughed heartily which caused Merrill's cheeks to flame in a furious blush. "We should leave, immediately. Your task is for Asha'bellanar. It's not wise to make her wait," she said trying to change the subject.

"You know the witch who sent me here?" Hawke's interest peaked. Her own meeting with the witch was chaotic and brief, and she had spent countless moments thinking about it, wondering if there was any way that she could have avoided Bethany's outcome.

"No, not personally," Merrill's little black ties swayed as she shook her head. "My people tell stories of her though. You're very lucky. Most people who meet her wind up in tiny pieces hanging from a tree."

"Oh," she said exchanging an alarmed glance with Aveline. "Well then I'm glad she was in a good mood when she met me. Shall we?" She gestured for Merrill to escort them, and the elf nodded and anxiously took lead.

The path through the mountain was treacherous, guarded by spiders, demon shades, and shadow warriors, but Merrill was an expert spell-slinger which made forging through the caves a much faster process. Hawke had a feeling that the elf was in trouble with her clan, but she couldn't imagine why. She found her antics endearing and adorable, and she was obviously skilled. Hawke couldn't imagine why the Keeper would be so keen on getting rid of such an asset.

They exited the cave and Hawke was grateful to breathe in fresh air again. There was something about that cave that just smelled off. Up until now, she had only heard stories of the undead, but she witnessed firsthand how real they were. Aveline was nearly overwhelmed by that shadow warrior that ambushed them, but they ended that battle triumphantly and had finally reached the summit. Hawke now hoped for a swift end to this nightmare but that hope was quickly dashed as they came across a spirit barrier. "Well…," Hawke huffed. She turned to Merrill. "Is there a way around?"

"No need," Merrill responded. There was a distinct nervous edge to her voice. "I can open the way from here. One moment"

Merrill approached the barrier and pulled a knife out of her belt. She raised her hands, and Hawke noticed that her fair skin was mottled with cuts and bruises, some very fresh. The elf took a deep breath, and slit her palm. An inhuman amount of blood gushed out and she was suddenly surrounded by a red aura. It swirled around her for a moment and then crashed against the barrier. The rush of magic against magic blinded everyone momentarily, and the air cracked like thunder. When they were able to open their eyes again, the barrier was gone, and Merrill looked back at them like a guilty dog with it's tail between it's legs.

"Blood magic?" Fenris growled. His hand was gripping the hilt of his blade so hard that his knuckles were drained of color. "Foolish, very foolish."

Merrill looked alarmed and went back to blubbering. "Yes it was blood magic but I know what I'm doing. The spirit helped us didn't it?"

"Oh, yes. Demons are very helpful right up until they start using you as a puppet." Hawke put her hand on her forehead, feeling an exhaustion headache coming on. She was beginning to understand why the Keeper was so adamant about sending this sweet girl away.

"Well…yes, but that won't happen," Merrill dodged the question as she bandaged her cut with a cloth from her bag. She led Hawke inside, and her eyes seemed to be far off, as if she was recalling a sad memory. "We must be careful up ahead. Restless things prowl the heights. In the days of Arlathan, the elders came here to sleep. Uthenara, the endless dream they called it, but they don't sleep peacefully anymore."

This Uthenara was a graveyard, and Hawke wasn't sure how, but she could feel the bones of the dead beneath her feet. Stone structures were placed all around, and she could only guess they were gravestones. At each grave was a lantern lite by a blue flame. Hawke could sense an ancient magic keeping it alight. The grass that grew on the stone here seemed to have less life, less color than at the base of the mountain. Everything from the darkness in the sky to the way the rocks slid under her feet told Hawke that the living did not belong here. What had she agreed to?

"That's the altar up ahead," Merrill pointed, and that's exactly what it was- a slab of rock with a blue lantern, it's flame burning eternally. It was surrounded by more jutting rocks at the edge of a cliff. Hawke could only guess that there was once a building that stood there, but whether it fell to it's depths or something else had knocked it down, she could only guess.

As they reached the steps of the altar, Hawke felt a terrible rumble underneath her feet. She instinctively drew her staff. "And we're under attack," she muttered. "What a surprise."

Corpses punched their way out of the rock and heaved themselves upwards and a wind rushed from the mountains pushing everyone away from the altar. Hawke lost her footing and was slammed backwards into a gravestone. She cried out, and heard a sharp thwack by her ear. In the corner of her eye, an arrow had just missed her head, but had pinned some of her hair to the stone. The skeleton archer reloaded another arrow, but before it could draw another arrow she called ice to her fingertips and froze it in place soon enough for Aveline to shatter it.

Hawke scrambled back onto her feet, and tore out some hair in the process. She turned to see Varric pinned behind a grave by two more archers. Hawke called a fireball to her fingertips and shot it at the corpses. They crumpled to the floor burning, but were still struggling to get back up. Hawke was taken aback. "What does it take to kill these things," she asked loudly.

"The head," Merrill cried back. She demonstrated by shooting a bolt out of her staff into the forehead of a corpse. It's powdered brains puffed out of the back. "The spell's sustained there."

Not a moment later, two bolts were lodged into the burning corpses skulls and they slumped over. "Bianca can handle that," Varric said with a wink.

Varric, Merrill and Hawke banded together picking off the corpses from afar while Fenris and Aveline used their weapons and skills like human shields, but the shadow that was summoned was proving difficult. Just like before, it weaved in and out of Aveline's and Fenris' attacks. They would lunge and it would disappear only to appear behind them, attempting to exploit their exposed backs. Hawke eyed the shadow closely, trying to interrupt it's attacks when she could manage it, but she couldn't risk any bigger spells without hurting the others.

Suddenly they heard an unearthly cry that chilled their bones. The air swirled and everyone was knocked back again. A ghostly corpse clothed with tattered mage robes rose from the altar. Electricity jolted from his hands and his arms danced in a perfect, precise circle.

"Everyone, move! It's calling a tempest!" Hawke cried.

Aveline and Fenris struggled to flee from the corpse, but the spell pulled them back in. The shadow remained relentless and even as the spell distorted it's form, it lunged and parried, trying to find an opening. Fenris managed to break away, but Aveline had now become the focus of the shadow's attack. Hawke's heart pounded in her ears as the shadow swung it's sword to knock away Aveline's shield and then plunged it into her stomach.

"Aveline!" Hawke cried. She called fire to her fingertips and hit the shadow square in the chest. It shrieked before it liquefied and vanished, but it was too late. The tempest's slow dance was now a ferocious storm. The air sparked and crackled and Aveline cried out as the electricity licked her tender flesh.

Anger surged through Hawke and another fireball came crashing down, but this time not from her fingertips. Her arms, moved automatically reaching to the sky, and another sphere of fire crashed down on the corpse mage, interrupting the tempest. The fire called to her and she pulled it from the heavens again and again, and each time it landed, the horror screeched in pain. It's tattered robes whipped upwards as the flames consumed them and it's dry skin sizzled and cracked as loudly as the lightning had.

The heavens continued to swirl and fire rained down chaotically. The horror was nothing more than a pile of charred bones now, but Hawke was not in control anymore. Her friends fled from her to take cover behind gravestones as the fire roared and crashed. Hawke was dizzy from the heat, but she couldn't call it back. 'Stop,' Hawke pleaded to the fire. 'I don't need you anymore. Stop!'

Finally it released her, and she collapsed breathing heavily. Aveline's crumpled form lay before the altar and she scrambled to her, still on her hands and knees. The guardswoman had fainted from the pain, but her chest still moved and Hawke breathed a sigh of relief. Aveline's ribbon had come undone and her wild red hair clung loosely to her face. Some blood made a trail from her thin lips and parts of her skin were singed, but it didn't look like she took too much damage from the spell. Hawke placed her hand over her friend's stomach. 'Heal,' she commanded her fingers, and they lit up in response, knitting the flesh back together.

Aveline's eyes fluttered open and she coughed. "I'm disappointed in you," Hawke chuckled. She quickly wiped her face and swallowed down the incoming tears.

"Me, too," Aveline groaned and pushed herself upright. "Maker, I think I tore…everything."

"Well knowing my healing expertise, I might have fused your kidney to a rib or something," Hawke joked. "We should check in with Anders when we get back."

Merrill and Varric came out of hiding shortly after. Varying amounts of awe and fear were plastered on their faces, but Fenris' gaze was cold and wary. His eyes were dark with hate so intense that she thought she would melt under it.

"Shit, Hawke, I had no clue you could do that," Varric whistled at her work. He had taken out his journal, and was busy scratching notes with some graphite.

"Well believe me, I'm just as surprised as you are-"

"That was careless," Fenris growled and gestured to the scorched terrain. "Look at this, you had no control. You almost hit us several times."

Hawke shrugged sheepishly. "I admit the spell got away from me, but-"

"You could have killed us all!" His body was rigid and he looked like he was only a moment away from tearing her heart out, but Aveline projected herself upwards and put herself in between them. Her green eyes told a warning that words never could.

"Hawke saved my life, and probably yours as well." Her voice was hard, and she refused to tear her gaze away from Fenris' glower. It was the elf who lowered his eyes, but not before he muttered a Tevinter curse under his breath.

Satisfied, Aveline turned to Merrill who was nervously fidgeting with her bandage. "Now that that's over with, how do we complete this ritual?"

"Oh," Merrill nodded. "It's quite simple, really. Hawke needs to put the amulet in the eternal flame and I'll do the rest."

They formed a half-circle around the altar and Hawke placed the amulet in the flame as instructed, and stood back. Merrill stepped forward and placed her hand over the flame, but it didn't burn her bruised fingers. She closed her eyes and recited, "Hahren na melana sahlin. Emma ir abelas. Souver'inan isala hamin. Vhenan him dor'felas. In uthenera na revas." There was a light that flashed in Merrill's green eyes as she finished the prayer and then suddenly all sound stopped. A sharp crack of glass broke the unearthly silence and the blood inside the amulet bubbled out and pooled on the altar. Hawke thought she saw the blood piling on itself, taking form. The blue flame of the lantern flashed like the sun and ghostly dragon wings swirled around the altar. A being bathed in light rose from the blood of the amulet, and stepped down.

"Ah, and here we are," Flemeth crooned with a viper's grin.

Hawke's mouth gaped open, and Flemeth's yellow eyes seemed to glint in delight. She chortled a throaty laugh as if she was sharing a private joke with herself. She was dressed in the same skin-fitted red robe, studded with metal. Her sharp crown accentuated her face which somehow looked old and young at the same time. Her eyelids and lips were painted in the same dark red shade and her white hair was ribboned in four spikes that resembled the dragon she really was.

"Another witch!" Fenris went to draw his sword but Aveline put her arm in between them.

"Stay your blade. We know of this one," she told him.

"Andaran atish'an, Asha'bellanar," Merrill said with a deep bow, careful not to look into Flemeth's eyes.

The witch turned her gaze to Merrill, and pulled her thin lips in a wry smile. "One of the people. I see. So young and bright. Do you know who I am beyond the title?"

"I know only a little," Merrill replied, not daring to raise her eyes.

"Then stand. The people bend their knee too quickly." She turned to Hawke and raised a thin white eyebrow. "So refreshing to see someone who keeps their end of the bargain. I half expected my amulet to end up in a merchant's pocket."

"It's not like I didn't try," Hawke chuckled, but her laugh was weak and hoarse. "No one wanted to buy it- maybe because it had a witch inside."

"Just a piece, a small piece but it was all I needed," she raised a gauntleted hand and pinched her fingers together as if she was pulling out an invisible thread. Suddenly her eyes looked like she was seeing something far away. "A bit of security should the inevitable occur, and if I know my Morrigan, it already has."

"You are no simple witch," Fenris piped up. It looked like the elf had taken all the irritation he could and he was trembling visibly.

"Figure that out by yourself did you?" Flemeth turned her gaze to the elf and she flashed a cruel smile on her dark lips.

But if Fenris was afraid, he did not betray it. He stepped forward, keeping his hand on the hilt of his blade as he pointed in accusation. "I have seen powerful mages, spirits and abominations, and yet you are none of those things. What are you?"

She placed her hand on her chin, feigning deep thought. "Such a curious lad. The chains are broken but are you truly free?"

Fenris flinched at that. "You see a great deal."

She closed her eyes and when she opened them, they seemed to glow. Her hair and robes whipped in a wind that pulled from behind her as she declared, "I am a fly in the ointment, I am a whisper in the shadows, I am also an old, old woman," and suddenly the wind died down and she shrugged. "More than that you need not know."

The group didn't speak, and stared at Flemeth warily. As usual, it was Hawke who broke the silence, "So now that this little smuggling job is over, I take it you have plans." She had an uncharacteristic urgency in her voice that suggested she wanted this meeting to end quickly.

Flemeth smiled and closed her eyes. "Destiny awaits us both, dear girl. We have much to do. Before I go, a word of advice." She turned to the mountains. "We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment and when it comes do not hesitate to leap." She looked back, her gaze seemed to pierce Hawke. "It is only when you fall that you learn whether or not you can fly."

"Cheap advice from a dragon," Hawke grinned wryly which caused the witch to laugh.

"We all have our challenges," Flemeth smirked.

"Hawke, I have a feeling we'll regret this," Aveline said nervously nudging her.

For a moment, Flemeth's face actually looked pained. "Regret is something I know well. Take care not to cling to it, to hold it so close that it poisons your soul. When the time comes for your regrets, remember me." She turned to Merrill. "As for you child, step carefully. No path is darker than when your eyes are shut."

"Ma serannas, Asha'bellanar," Merrill closed her eyes and bowed deeply.

"Now the time has come for me to leave. You have my thanks," she caught Hawke's gaze again as she said, "and my sympathy." Her gauntleted hands shot out into claws, and sharp scales popped out of bolts of her red robes. The horns of her white hair turned dark and grew into terrible spikes as her hair disappeared into a now scaled head. Out of her shoulders popped real wings that threatened to push everyone off of their feet as she flapped. They all took several steps back as before she leapt off of the cliff and flew off into the distant mountains.

The amulet was finally delivered back to Marethari and they all hiked back into the city. Fenris eyed Hawke the whole way down with a renewed anger. He couldn't believe that Aveline and Varric could still talk and even joke with those mages after what they witnessed. Were they completely blind? Fenris had never seen such raw power come from an untrained mage, and if Hawke hadn't reigned in that spell, she would have torn that cliff right off the mountain. And on top of that, they were guiding a blood mage right into the very heart of Kirkwall. Aveline must not know the dangers of blood magic but Hawke had no excuse. He wondered why such power always seemed to fall into the hands of fools.

They finally arrived in the alienage, the only place Merrill would be qualified to stay. If Fenris hadn't taken claim to Danarius' old mansion, this would be where he'd be forced to live as well. Varric excused himself to speak to an elven leader; trying to work on a housing plan for Merrill. The blood mage was nervously fidgeting with her bandage while Aveline and Hawke were discussing something quietly amongst themselves. Fenris stood aside still glaring at the fire mage. He must have bore a hole in the back of her head with how much he was staring. He couldn't believe he had tied himself to this foolish witch, but Fenris was just as much of a fool for trusting her.

Hawke glanced over at him, and for a moment, their eyes met. She smiled mischievously and winked.

Fenris eyes widened in alarmed and he turned away blushing. What was she doing?

She left the conversation with Aveline and approached him. "The fight with my brother was over Templars."

"Pardon?" He wasn't sure why she was even bringing it up. The fight with her brother seemed completely irrelevant.

"You've been staring at me with the biggest scowl ever since I mentioned that Carver was being a shit. I'm sure you'd agree with him, though." She leaned on her staff as she talked to him, and tilted her head in interest.

"Are you claiming to be a mind reader, now?" he spat icily.

"Just chalk it up to one of my many magey powers," she teased, but he stiffened at her joke. So she chose to remain careless.

"You jest, but in the Imperium, mages use blood magic to rip thoughts out of one's mind," he glared at Merrill, making sure that their eyes met. She cowered at his gaze and turned away from him. "Survivors are rare."

"I guess just asking them has never crossed their minds," Hawke simply shrugged.

"They find it…inefficient," Fenris rolled his eyes. He should have known better than to think she would take his warning seriously. She would continue to play with dangers beyond her understanding. "And I wasn't wondering about that."

"Yes, you were," she hummed, picking a twig out of her hair before she met his eyes again. "Unless you were noticing how great my ass is."

Fenris coughed almost violently and his face turned beet red. "I was…not-"

"You can look," she flashed her usual cock-sure smile.

Fenris' face was burning but this time with anger. She had misinterpreted his gaze. There was no way in he could ever think of her in such a way. "I was 'staring' because I was wondering how you came into the debt of a dragon."

"Oh that," she hummed again. She bit her lip, seeming a bit disappointed.

"I'd love to know that as well," Varric chuckled as he approached them from behind. Aveline and Merrill followed him, his business with the elf in charge apparently done.

"Simple really," Hawke yawned and stretched lazily. "On our escape from Lothering we got trapped between some darkspawn and an ogre. Aveline, Carver and I managed to strike down the ogre, but we were still pinned down by a horde. A dragon flew out of the sky, charred them up, and I got stuck carrying her amulet."

"You're shitting me," Varric said, reaching for his journal again.

"Shit you not. Aveline can vouch for me," she nudged the guardswoman.

"As unbelievable as it sounds, it's true. Every word," Aveline winced at the nudge and clutched her stomach. Apparently she hadn't completely recovered from the wound.

Varric finished whatever he was writing and turned to Merrill. Her eyes were wide and flitted around the alienage like a spooked rabbit. The dwarf tapped her arm and pointed at a little shack in the corner where an elf-woman was selling her wares. "That's you right there. I've covered the first month, so you have a bit of time to look around for a job."

"Varric," Hawke grinned, "that's positively gentlemanly of you."

"What can I say?" the dwarf chuckled as he rubbed his neck. "I have a soft spots for strays."

Merrill took a couple shaky steps toward the shack and turned back towards them. "Elgar'nan," the little elf swore. For a moment it looked like she would cry. "This can't really be where the elves live."

"It is," Fenris spat icily.

"Oh don't mind him," she waved in dismissal. "Besides, it'll be fun working your way to the top…" She then frowned and scratched her head. "Ok, I lied. It won't be fun."

"Some adventurer I am. I've just started out and I'm already daunted," Merrill sniffed as she looked up to the sky. A few tears fell down her cheeks before she turned back to Hawke. "Will you visit me? I mean, not now, but maybe a bit later?"

Fenris gritted his teeth, hoping that Hawke would show some sense and tell her no, but unsurprisingly her lips turned into a kind smile. "Of course, but only because you used a you-kicked-my-puppy voice."

It shouldn't have surprised Fenris that she would show compassion for the most unworthy of individuals.

Merrill breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you," she bowed slightly. "For everything. I won't forget this."

Another special thanks for Necromancer Luna for being a wonderful beta. It's so nice to have such wonderful feedback and thank you for being my idea bouncer. Thanks to everyone who followed and viewed. I had a hard time not parroting Flemeth's part, but I felt like I needed this scene for later ones that I want to allude to I'm sorry. = w=. I hope the rest of it didn't disappoint. *goes back into hiding*