Translations:

Na en'an'sal: You are a gift/blessing.

Myathash'ar: I am honored.

Lanalin: mother

Lenalin: father

Ashalan: daughter


Abelas watched as Mythal placed her hands on Fen'harel and Fenlamea. She looked to Fen'harel as she spoke, "I am sorry, old friend. But better it be this, than your life."

Fen'harel looked up for the first time since the gods were released, a sorrowful smile shining on his tear-stained lips. "I am grateful that my power will be passed to her. She is the only one worthy of it. 'Ma vhen'an will use it more wisely than I ever have."

Mythal smiled, nodding gently and turning to Fenlamea. "Are you ready, dear girl? This power has only been held by one other; you will have a difficult time adjusting to it. I suggest listening to my priests, as well as Fen'harel and your hah'ren, as you learn how to control it. And you may wish to find a safe place for your foci until this is done."

Fenlamea secured her foci back into the side of her pack, then bowed her head. "'Ma serannas, All-Mother; I shall do my best to learn what I must."

"Come now child of mine," Mythal chortled, "I appreciate your good manners, as I always have; but you are one of us now." She leaned in to murmur softly enough that only those very near to her would hear, "You may refer to me as Mythal, or mother; if you are willing. You are my children's sister now. It will take time to adjust, I know; but do hurry if you can, my dear girl. The more quickly they accept you, the easier this will be for all of us."

He saw Mythal squeeze Fenlamea's shoulder comfortingly. Mythal's favor of her was clear, and her advice would be a great boon to Fenlamea, if she heeded it. A smile twitched at the corner of his lips, quickly hidden.

He did not wish to catch Dirthamen's eye. He may be enamored with Fenlamea for the moment, but his brother obviously was not. If there was one thing that could be said about the twin souls of the pantheon, it was that they did not often disagree; Falon'din was sure to have words with his brother soon, regarding their dear new sister. The outcome of that conversation could be anything from a plot on her life, to welcoming her with open arms. None would truly know the answer until it presented itself, one way or another. He and Fenlamea both must be on their guard, until such things were certainties.

That June seemed impressed by her was excellent. She would need him on her side; he was often a stabilizing factor amongst the pantheon, and well loved by all of them. He crafted their favorite trinkets and foci - for those who needed such things - after all.

She had even passed the test of Elgar'nan's fury and intimidation- a feat which had no doubt raised her status considerably in the eyes of all present; especially Elgar'nan's. Their alliance was still very fresh, but he sided with her, for now.

It was unlikely she would ever gain Anaris' appreciation, but stranger things had happened. Not that it necessarily mattered whether he approved of her or not; but she would not wish to make an enemy of him. Surprisingly, considering the Forgotten One's desire to see the Dread Wolf dead, he did not seem overly displeased with his punishment; despite his abstinence from the vote. Perhaps he was satisfied. Or - and this was the more likely scenario - he simply wished to bide his time until the Wolf was weak enough to easily strike him down. Either way, he was one to watch - carefully.

While these observations trickled through his mind, Mythal had turned to Fen'harel, and was murmuring to him as she had to Fenlamea. He could not hear what was said, but soon enough, Mythal stood straight and tall between them. She looked to Elgar'nan and nodded, then began to carry out the Wolf's sentence.

The green spark of his gift was shocked to life within the Wolf, jolting him with a gasp from his lips into a stunned, trance-like state, as the magic was forcibly awakened and called forth. His upper body swayed gently as if all energy had been drained from him; then suddenly, his back arched, arms falling limply behind him as a shining emerald sphere of pure energy erupted from his chest. Fen'harel collapsed as his strength left him. Abelas looked on as Mythal guided Fen'harel's gift to hover in front of Fenlamea. Mythal gave her a look that clearly asked if she was ready. Fenlamea nodded. Mythal took a breath, then pushed the orb into Fenlamea's chest as gently as she could.

What happened then was anything but gentle.

Fenlamea's back bowed, a mirror to what he had witnessed when she accepted the Well's instructions and claimed her immortality, but the scene before him quickly diverged from his memory into something far more volatile. The unconstrained power he had felt at her awakening was dwarfed in an instant by the sheer impact of her magic, as it exploded outward, knocking every one of them back a few steps.

As they all recovered, Abelas looked to her kneeling form, seeing her shoulders rise and fall quickly with her harried breaths. He recognized what was happening instantly.

He moved to her with haste, kneeling in front of her and laying his hands gently over hers, which were tightly balled into fists on the floor before her. When she looked up, the colors of the sea at sunset he was so used to seeing in her eyes were fiercely overshadowed by the crackling, slowly fading magic she had just absorbed. He could feel it festering beneath her skin, rebelling against its new host. But he could also feel her fighting it down, trying to master it; making it her own. Her teeth were bared in a feral grimace, the struggle and pain etched into her face like a canvas of controlled agony. Her anchor threatened to burn through her hand and his as it flared with the added power of its source within her. He grit his teeth against the pain, knowing it must be worse for her.

He felt Mythal draw near, kneeling down beside them and speaking lowly to Fenlamea. "Conquer it, my dear daughter; I would not have given it to you if I didn't think you could control it. I know you can do this."

She gave Fenlamea a tight smile, then nodded pointedly at Abelas when he looked at her. He bowed his head in acknowledgment as she left to tend to Fen'harel. He devoted his attention to Fenlamea, whose jaw was clenched in a concentrated effort to regain her control. A tear rolled down her cheek as she locked her gaze on him, a plea for his help that she dare not voice clear in her eyes. He subtly draped his mana over her like a blanket, soothing, but not restricting. She gasped for breath, relief on her face as her eyes drifted closed for but a moment of respite, before they opened again.

She smiled her thanks at him, brushing her own mana against his in gratitude as her eyes slowly began to return to their new natural state. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on her skin, despite the cold; a clear indication of how much stress her body had and still was enduring. Her breaths were still labored, but had slowed enough for her to speak. When she finally did, it was for his ears alone.

"'Ma serannas, lethallin; na en'an'sal." She pressed her brow to his for a few seconds in her gratitude.

He gave a tiny huff of a laugh in relief, nodding his acceptance of her thanks as she leaned back. "Ara melava son'ganem, Fenlamea. Myathash'ar."

Finally, the magic's light subsided from her eyes, her own natural color glowing softly as it should and reflecting the sparse light in the temple. Her eyelids closed with a sigh of release. She opened them after a moment, nodding with a quiet smile.

"I... think I'm alright- for now. I should probably get up before one of them decides I'm too weak and kills me," she murmured with a small, tired snort.

He nodded, a shadow of a smirk gracing his lips. "That is likely wise."

He lifted his hands from hers and offered to help her up. She smiled in appreciation, but shook her head. He nodded, realizing she was right; as much as he wanted to help her, she needed to show them that she was strong on her own. He still stood ready to catch her if she did falter. She did not. Though he knew she was harrowed by her experience, she stood strong in the face of those gathered.

It wasn't until then that he looked away from her, noticing that Dorian was standing close by with his eyes trained apprehensively on Fenlamea. He was joined by Cole, who stood a short distance behind her, picking at his hand wraps as he worried over her, keeping his gaze lowered to somewhere near her feet. Mythal knelt by Fen'harel, who was still unconscious and weakly propped against the alter, recovering. The rest of the deities in the room were quietly conversing, and watching Fenlamea with interest.

He heard her draw in a deep, steadying breath. Then, she took her first step into her role amongst the Pantheon, with him at her side. It was June that spoke first, his voice kind and caring.

"Are you alright, sister? Have you won the battle for control?"

"I believe so." She nodded, smiling. "It took a moment longer than I liked, but it seems all is well, brother. 'Ma serannas for your concern."

Falon'din interjected with a jovial scoff before June could respond, "Nonsense. If June didn't show concern, he wouldn't be June."

His joviality faded slightly as he continued. "I am... gratified to see you recover." He paused, then seemed to remember himself, giving a half bow to her. "Sister."

June narrowed his eyes at Falon'din, but looked back to Fenlamea rather than responding to him.

"De da'rahn, sister. I am glad to see you well. Speak to me, when you have a moment; I wish to help you cleanse your new foci."

Surprise lit upon her face, followed by a pleased smile. "I would be most grateful for any help you can provide, brother."

She tilted her head, regarding Falon'din with a sly, but guarded smile. "Falon'din?"

He raised an eyebrow of curious interest. "Yes, sister?"

"I should like to speak to you later, brother." She straightened her head and gave him a warm smile. "Perhaps after things have settled down a bit."

He seemed to consider that for a moment, then nodded. "Certainly, sister. I shall make time before I tend to my duties. But please don't keep me waiting too long, there is quite the glut of souls awaiting my special attention."

She nodded her head in a tiny bow, still smiling. "Of course, dear brother. I would not wish to keep the dead waiting."

Abelas fought to keep the wondered amusement in his mind from surfacing. It amazed him that she could so directly corral what could potentially be her greatest opponent among the pantheon into a cordial meeting, so quickly and seemingly effortlessly after her recovery. Little wolf, indeed. He could think of none better suited for the role she had been given. If she remained strong, she may even make a mockery of what the Dread Wolf had accomplished with that same power. But she would need to use great caution when dealing with Falon'din. Abelas knew alliances within the pantheon shifted like the sands on a seashore; one wrong move could bring down enough destruction and rage to rival all of the blights, at once. He needed to prepare and advise her as much as he was able.

Fenlamea gave a quiet smile to Dirthamen, which he returned, before she moved to the other side of the altar, where Mythal knelt and Elgar'nan stood on either side of Fen'harel. Much had been taken from him. While he still held significant power, he was far from the near-deity he had been. He still held his magic and his wolf, though whether it could be called dreaded, now that he could not manipulate and terrorize the dreams of those who dreaded him, was a matter for debate. He would have to find new purpose amongst the pantheon, and for the moment, his future was uncertain.

Fenlamea's steps came to rest at the feet of Fen'harel, standing over him with her arms crossed, observing him with keen eyes. When Mythal looked up at her with a grim smile, Fenlamea nodded toward him.

"What will happen with him now?" she asked, looking back to Mythal.

"For now, he will recover from his ordeal and rest." Mythal sighed, looking down at him with a shake of her head. "Once he is rested, he will be tasked with serving as one of your guides in your new place among us, until you become competent enough that you no longer need his guidance. After that, we shall see. It may be that he can fill a role of some sort; he does still have enough strength to remain amongst our pantheon, if barely. We can ill afford to waste what potential he has left."

Mythal looked up and grasped her new daughter's hand gently, smiling. "Perhaps he can make himself useful to you in some aspect, my dear daughter; as penance for the heartache he caused you. If you desire such a thing, that is. There are several in this temple who would tear him apart for locking them away, but I know how he wronged you, Fenlamea. If you chose to have him serve as a tool for your use, it would be understood."

Fenlamea hummed uncertainly. "Not by all, mother. And I am not certain I would want his help. Perhaps... but, I cannot decide now. It would be better to see what this new era brings. I may find a use for him, but I admit, I am reluctant to do so. I do not trust him."

"I understand, dear girl." Mythal nodded, patting her daughters hand. "Think on it. We all have time now to consider a great many things. As you said, adjustments must be made as we proceed. It is likely the world outside this temple is in a state of panicked chaos. Once Fen'harel wakes, we should tend to our new world as best and as swiftly as we are able. You have control of Tarasyl'an Te'las. Perhaps we should retreat to your fortress and prepare."

Abelas' gaze slid to Falon'din, who seemed deep in conversation with Dirthamen, then to Anaris, who was chatting with a wisp; likely gathering information of the outside world that would be useful to have. He was doubtful Anaris would share. He knelt facing Mythal and bowed his head.

"My Mistress, I have concerns that must be left unspoken."

Mythal let Fenlamea's hand go and touched her fingers to her former Sentinel's temple, searching his thoughts. He concentrated on his worry over Falon'din and Anaris. She nodded as she pulled her hand away.

"I understand. Anaris is his own creature; I can do little on that front, but I will speak to my sons."

She turned to look between her two standing family members. "'Ma vhen'an, da'fen; please keep watch over Fen'harel. I will return shortly."

A pair of nodding heads confirmed her request would be satisfied, so she stood and went to her sons quickly. Abelas watched as she went first to Dirthamen, offering her hand. He took it eagerly, grasping at the chance to learn what his mother wished him to know. Seconds passed, and it was done. He nodded to her, and they both turned to Falon'din, who gave a confused look to the both of them. Dirthamen snatched his hand and Mythal laid hers on Falon'din's forehead, both searching him for answers and hints of duplicity, or schemes of violence. It was over quickly, and though Falon'din was outraged, the truth would now be known.

"Am I to receive the same treatment?" Anaris demanded, "Are we all under suspicion, or just the shepherd of the dead?"

"You may go back to the void any time you choose, Anaris," replied Dirthamen, "I am surprised you have not gone already. Have you forgotten how? Or do you yet linger for some nefarious purpose of your own?"

"Well!" Anaris cried in outrage, "Pardon me if I wish to enjoy a few moments outside of the prison I've been held in for the past millennia! I did not realize it was such a crime to be free! If that is how you all feel, then fine! I will go to the void."

Before anyone could say anything in response, he drew a dark glyph on the floor and stepped on it, vanishing without a sound. The wretched scent of rotting corpses remained for a time, but soon cleared.

Shaking her head, Mythal returned to Fen'harel's side, kneeling and touching his mind briefly. When she finished, she sighed and looked at those surrounding her.

"He will wake soon. Do not concern yourself over my son, Abelas. He may not particularly care for his new sibling; but he will learn, or he will be punished. It is as simple as that. We cannot behave as we once did. We must all realize this. It is a new world, and if we must rebuild ourselves to properly guide it, we shall. My daughter, if you could arrange travel for us, I would be most grateful. Take Abelas and your little dragon with you to help. We will wait here, and I will begin preparing our kin for facing this world."

Fenlamea nodded. "Ma nuvenin, lanalin." She rose and dipped her head in respect to Elgar'nan. "Lenalin."

Elgar'nan gave a small nod, his lips twitching in the barest hint of a smile. Abelas spared a quick glance at the All-Father's aura, finding it lightly tinged with pleased affection for his - now only - daughter. He had always been less harsh with his daughters than his sons; they were amongst the few elvhen he could be manipulated by, aside from Mythal herself. If he was already beginning to enjoy her presence, it bode extremely well for her future.

She rounded the altar and beckoned Dorian over to her. "Garas, da'isenatha. We must make way for my kin."

He nodded. "Is Cole coming?"

She chuckled. "If our lethallen wished to come, I doubt anything could stop him from joining us now. He'll likely meet us back at Skyhold."

Dorian's head tilted in a shrug. "I suppose that's true. So how exactly are we going to 'make way' for the pantheon?"

"I will show you, once we are outside of the temple," Abelas answered. He would need to teach Fenlamea a great many things, now that the veil was no longer an obstacle. They made their way to the entrance, stepping into the light of day and shielding their eyes from the brightness. Abelas' heart sang as the sight of a world with its magic restored met his gaze. Evidence of magic was everywhere, in every rock and crevice, in the swirling clouds above them, flowing through the land and renewing it with a deft touch. He took a deep breath of the icy air surrounding them, letting it out slowly as his eyes drifted closed in bliss.

Soft exclamations of wonderment left the lips of the two following him as they stepped out, their eyes wide in shock as he turned to look at them.

Fenlamea was the first to recover, seeking him with a questioning gaze. "This is what it looked like before the veil?"

He nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yes. This is the way the world should be, unbound and open, full of potential. I am happy that I lived to see it again, and that I am able to watch you witness it for the first time."

"Kaffas, it's all alive! I can feel the earth breathing! Is it supposed to do that?" Dorian gave him a worried look.

Abelas chuckled, nodding. "Yes, falon. You would feel it most strongly as the weight of every soul Falon'din has not yet had a chance to lay to rest. That weight will lessen, over time. For now, be careful how hard you pull at the souls under your command. If you manage not to bind them, Falon'din will respect your need for them, instead of taking them from you for being too greedy."

Dorian's lip curled in distaste. "I'll bear that in mind. 'Ma serannas for the warning."

"Da'rahn, falon. We will need to warn the other dinathe'dirthelan of this age as well. In the meantime, we need to secure mounts for the pantheon. I will demonstrate how it is done, then you may both assist me, if you are willing."

"Of course, hah'ren," Fenlamea gave her assent.

"Naturally," Dorian acquiesced.

Abelas nodded and turned from them, holding his hands before him to begin casting. It had been many ages since he'd cast the spell, but it came to him easily, flowing and free, as if it had been only yesterday. A spectral hart slowly coalesced before him, veilfire flowing from its eyes. It took one look at Abelas, then lowered its head and pawed the ground with its hoof, shaking its head gently and going still. A successful summoning.

He turned to his fellows, looking at both of them in turn. "Do I need to demonstrate again, or was that sufficient?"

"It's a modified version of the spell I use to summon the dead. I'll certainly give it a go. Falon'din won't be angry if I accidentally summon a soul, will he?" He raised an eyebrow of worry at Abelas.

Abelas smirked. "No. If you do somehow manage to summon a soul in the form of a mount, it will likely please his… unique sensibilities, however."

Dorian's brow creased in a frown. "Worrying. Oh well, here goes nothing!"

While Dorian casted, Abelas turned to Fenlamea. "Do you wish to try?"

She took a breath, letting it out as she nodded. "May as well. I'm not used to summoning things, but I can try. Show me the motions again?"

He ran through the mnemonic for her, as she watched him with a studiously sharp gaze. She nodded, trying the motion herself without magic, looking to him for confirmation. He bowed his head in confirmation. "Now try it with mana. It is spirit magic, not something you're overly practiced with, but it can be done by any mage."

She nodded and began to cast, the spell failing halfway through. She sighed and tried again, but before she finished, a loud whinny from behind Abelas distracted them both. He turned to see the dreadsteed Dorian had managed to summon, which reared onto its hind legs and cried out in fiery rage. When it fell back to all fours, it stomped its hooves fiercely, huffing heated air through its nostrils as it glared at Dorian.

Abelas reached a calming hand out to Dorian. "Stand up to it, do not show it fear, falon. You've summoned it, but now you must master it."

Dorian nodded, squaring his shoulders and gazing into the steed's black eyes resolutely as it came to stand before him in challenge. After a few moments, it shook its head, then bowed in defeat.

"Well, that's definitely a spirit, and not a soul, at least." Dorian smiled. "I suppose I got it right, then."

Abelas nodded approvingly. "You did very well. It will serve you until it is sent away. Be careful not to keep them summoned for too long. Spirits do not mind being used for such a purpose for a while, but will become restless and dangerous if bound for too much time."

"What exactly is 'too long'?" Dorian asked, "A day? A week?"

Abelas chuckled as he summoned a second hart and tamed it. "Too long is keeping it summoned past its immediate intended purpose. When you would stable a normal mount, or tie it up for the night, is an appropriate time to release a summoned mount. You can always summon another spirit for your use when it is needed again."

Dorian bobbed his head in understanding. "That is imminently sensible, actually. Good to know."

They both turned to look at Fenlamea, who took a breath and began her efforts to summon a mount once more. Her face was a mask of concentration, her aura flaring brightly with determination as she went through the motions, flaring her mana as her anchor sputtered and sparked. A brilliant light flashed as she finished casting, their eyes quickly adjusting to behold what she'd summoned.

A massive pure white wolf with six glowing sea colored eyes stood before her, ears flattened against its skull, teeth bared menacingly. It growled and stalked up to her cautiously. She growled back at it, staring it down stubbornly. Its ears flicked up in surprise, lips covering its teeth as it relaxed its posture, leaning down to nuzzle her stomach gently. She held her hand out to it, letting it sniff her, then smoothed her hand over its face gently.

"Remarkable." Abelas wondered at the sight, smiling at Fenlamea. "I have not seen anyone with the ability to summon a wolf, besides Fen'harel himself. You truly are a wolf."

She snickered and scratched behind the wolf's ear, while it happily leaned into the attention. "I love it. This is the first mount I've seen that I may actually want to ride, instead of Nopalina."

Abelas shrugged. "It may allow you to keep it summoned. To be chosen to serve a goddess would be an honor for it. I can ask it for you, if you wish."

She tore her eyes away from the wolf to give him her concerned regard. "It wouldn't become dangerous, if I kept it longer than I'm supposed to?"

Abelas shook his head. "It is different for gods. If you chose to have this spirit serve you, it would have to agree to the service, but you would be able to keep it indefinitely, if it agreed to servitude. I have never seen a spirit turn down the honor."

She turned her worried face back to the wolf, shaking her head. "I don't want to enslave it. I won't ask that of it. It should be free to choose what it wishes to do."

The wolf perked up, leveling her with a stare of apparent curiosity. Its form shifted, twisting in on itself to create the shape of an elvhen woman, white hair falling softly over her dark shoulders. She bowed deeply at the waist, smiling as she straightened and spoke, her voice sweet and melodious.

"You honor me, young goddess. I am Cunning. Your offer of freedom is beautiful, but if I am free to choose, I would rather serve, in whatever capacity you prefer." Cunning bowed again, falling silent with a kind smile.

Fenlamea pursed her lips as she observed Cunning, crossing her arms loosely with a hand lifted over her chin, rubbing her fingers together in thought. She tilted her head as she let her arms fall to her sides, pointing her chin at Cunning.

"What reward do you seek for staying with me? If this is to be a partnership, you should get something out of it, yes?"

Cunning smirked, tilting her head in a mirror of Fenlamea as she replied, "Is it not enough of a reward to be by your side, oh newest goddess to grace the pantheon's number? I seek no boon greater than the chance to witness the harbinger of this new age bring about the changes this world so desperately needs. I can be a protector, an advisor, a companion. I will never interfere with your wishes, and I will carry out your orders gladly, so long as they do not turn me from my purpose."

Fenlamea narrowed her eyes and straightened, folding her hands behind her back. "I already have someone that fulfills all of those needs." She nodded at Abelas. "Tell me why I would need another."

Cunning chuckled. "It is always good to have more than one ally, is it not? I could serve as your messenger to other nations, or to your troops. I could rally other spirits to your cause. You already have Compassion, but he will no doubt be busy with the Whisperer of Secrets soon. I can be where he is not, if you wish."

Fenlamea sighed, tilting her head back as she looked at Cunning thoughtfully. "Let's say I agree to this; will you warn me if an order I give would pollute your purpose? I have no desire to change or twist you into something you are not."

Cunning gave a small bow, her expression one of sincere appreciation. "I will warn you, and I thank you for the consideration. You show wisdom with your request; a wisdom I will gladly honor."

Fenlamea peeked sideways at Abelas, her eyebrow raised in question. "Thoughts?"

He gestured to the spirit. "Cunning's offer seems genuine. It is indeed a spirit, uncorrupted, so it likely has no ulterior motive, as a demon would-"

Cunning scoffed, her aura flaring with indignation as she interrupted him. "Demon?! I am nothing like those malcontents! I am already free of the veil, what possible motive would I have for possessing anyone? Is it so much to ask that I am allowed to watch the formation of a new world first-hand? That I am allowed to choose my destiny, to choose my company? I choose this young goddess to serve, whether you approve of it or not."

He raised an eyebrow at the spirit's outburst. "I did not say I disapproved, Cunning."

Cunning's aura calmed, and she nodded. "Very well. So long as we understand each other." She shifted her view back to Fenlamea, smiling slightly. "What do you say, goddess? I agree to keep you informed if you begin to twist my purpose, and you allow me to stay at your side? It is a more than equitable arrangement."

Fenlamea paused, contemplating the spirit. After a few moments, she nodded. "Alright, I accept your offer. Be sure to keep up your end of the bargain to warn me."

Cunning grinned happily. "Of course! You will need to bind me, naturally; we cannot have anyone else attempting to corrupt me, after all."

Fenlamea's eyebrows shot upwards. "Bind you?! What happened to your freedom to choose? No, no, you are not my slave, Cunning."

Abelas stepped in before Cunning could respond. "Cunning speaks the truth, Fenlamea. It could be corrupted by another if it is not bound to you. It can still choose within the limits of that binding, if it is done properly."

Fenlamea's brow creased in confusion at him. "But… I don't understand. When Cole wanted Fen'harel to bind him so he wouldn't turn into a demon, Fen'harel refused, because he didn't want to take away Cole's free will. How is that any different than this?"

He smiled, gesturing to their surroundings vaguely. "The veil is gone now. It is a vastly different spell that Cunning speaks of. What was available to Fen'harel at the time, required brute force blood magics; this is nothing like that. Cunning is requesting that you bind it to you as a familiar, not a mindless slave."

"A familiar?" She quirked her head. "What is that?"

"Remember the tales of the Emerald Knights and their wolf companions?"

She nodded. "Of course. Are you saying they bound their wolves as whatever this 'familiar' thing is?"

"No, but it is a similar concept. Like a mabari that bonds with and cleaves to one owner for their entire life, only loyal to that one person. Except in this case, it is a spirit who has chosen to bond to you. Dirthamen had the same opportunity with his ravens. Though they were demons at the time, he purified them and bound them as his familiars. It is a rare gift, an honor to actually be chosen for such a match. It can show you how to do it, or I can, if you prefer."

She looked back to Cunning, uncertainty written clearly across her face. She tilted her head, sighing as she took a step toward the spirit. "This is what you're offering me?"

Cunning nodded. "It is, if you will have it. I do not offer it lightly, young goddess. But I am willing, if you are."

"It seems a rather big decision to make, especially so soon after our first meeting."

Cunning laughed. "Oh, young goddess, I have known you for many years. I have watched you from beyond the veil, seen your choices, known your pains and joys. I have watched you grow from the young girl scampering about the ara'vels of her clan, to the goddess you are today. I know you best out of anyone, save yourself. How could I not watch over a woman who so clearly reflected my purpose in her every step?"

Fenlamea gaped at the spirit, at a loss for words. Abelas was just as surprised, but kept it off of his face. Cunning just smiled.

"You've been watching over my little wolf for that long?" Dorian spoke up.

Cunning nodded. "I have, Dorian of House Pavus. I thank you for helping her when I could not. It would have been a great shame to lose her after all that excellent progress."

Dorian gave a shocked little laugh. "Well, you're welcome. I could hardly leave someone I consider a sister to drown in her pain, though, could I?"

Cunning smiled sadly. "Most would have. You did not."

"Yes, well… most are idiots."

Cunning laughed. "Too true." She looked back at Fenlamea, who had managed to close her mouth and school her features by that point. "So, what do you say, young goddess? Will you allow me to watch over you from beside you now, after all these years?"

Fenlamea looked to Abelas once more. He nodded encouragingly. She turned back to Cunning with a sigh, and bowed her head. "I will. Thank you for your dedication."

Cunning grinned widely. "It was my pleasure. Shall I show you how to bind me, or would you rather Sorrow teach you? I know you trust him more than I for the moment, so perhaps he should be the one to show you."

Abelas nodded his acquiescence. "That is considerate of you."

Cunning shrugged. "I want her to be happy, and she will be happier being able to trust the source of the spell."

Fenlamea nodded her agreement. "That is true." She smiled at Cunning. "You knowing that is a good indicator of how well you know me, however."

Cunning merely smirked.

Abelas chuckled and knelt down, tracing a glyph in the snow. As he finished, he pointed to it. "You will need to draw this on its palm, then on your own, infusing both with your mana. Then, you must meet the two glyphs together physically." He stood and demonstrated, laying his own palms flat against each other, fingers meeting. "I will add my mana as a witness to the binding, and the ritual will be complete."

"That's it?" Fenlamea seemed skeptical.

He nodded. "Yes. It is not an overly complex spell."

She looked down at the glyph, tracing it in the air a few times. She shrugged, nodding. "Alright, seems simple enough."

She faced Cunning and offered her hand to the spirit. Cunning smiled and placed her left hand in Fenlamea's right. Fenlamea glanced down at the glyph in the snow, then back at Cunning's hand, tracing the lines and curves in the spirit's palm, pouring her mana gently into the action. The glyph glowed softly as she finished it. Cunning slid her hand away and gestured for Fenlamea to repeat the procedure on her own palm.

Fenlamea glanced askance at Abelas. "Left or right palm? Or does it matter?"

"Right. Your left is already occupied."

She smirked, nodding. "Good point."

She drew the glyph on her right palm, then held it up to Cunning. Cunning placed her palm against Fenlamea's, and Abelas held their hands together with his own, surging his mana into the binding. A soft light shone from between their joined hands, then faded. He released them with a smile.

"You are now bound, Cunning. Congratulations on your new station."

Cunning grinned at him, lowering her hand to her side as she bowed. "Serannasan ma, Abelas. Myathash'ar."

Fenlamea raised an eyebrow at her. "So you do speak elvish. I had wondered why you only spoke trade, earlier."

Cunning bowed her head. "Of course. You will not find a spirit who does not speak every language that has ever existed. How else would they speak to those without knowledge of a specific language?"

Fenlamea nodded, impressed. "That does make sense. So how does this work, exactly? If I need you to be a wolf again, how do I go about that?"

Cunning chuckled. "You ask me. Whatever you need, you ask. If it won't corrupt me, I'll do it. If it will, I'll tell you. Simple as that."

"Oh. Well, I'll do my best to be good to you, then. That sound fair?"

Cunning grinned joyously. "Delightfully so. Perhaps you might wish to inform your kin that you have suitable transportation ready for them? You will be riding me, I assume?"

"Ah, of course." Fenlamea shook herself slightly. "Yes, if that's alright with you. I've never ridden a wolf before, that should be interesting."

Cunning giggled and nodded, turning into a spin as she transformed into the wolf again, coming to a halt and licking Fenlamea's cheek with an amused huff.

Fenlamea blinked in surprise and laughed, petting Cunning's head before she turned, waving towards the…

"Shit." She sparked her anchor, yanking her foci from her bag as she looked to Abelas. "How do I use this to make the entrance visible, again?"

"That won't be necessary, ashalan." Elgar'nan said, his upper body appearing in thin air, through what must've been the temple's still hidden entrance.

Fenlamea sighed in relief, tucking her foci back into her pack. "'Ma serannas, lenalin. Is everyone ready to depart?"

Elgar'nan gave her a small smile, then nodded. "Yes, ashalan. The Wolf is finally recovered enough to-" He stops short, gaze locking on the wolf behind them.

"Did you summon that, ashalan?" He pointed at the wolf.

She looked at the wolf, then back at him, nodding. "Yes, lenalin."

"Impressive." He narrowed his eyes, looking between the wolf and Fenlamea. "It is bound to you? So quickly? Also impressive." He gave her a proud smile. "You are more talented than I gave you credit for, ashalan. I look forward to seeing what else you are capable of."

She smiled, flushing slightly as the All-Father's praise. "'Ma serannas, lenalin. But Abelas was the one who taught me, I just followed his instructions."

Elgar'nan raised an eyebrow, sparing a glance at Abelas before he returned his gaze to his daughter. "Surprisingly humble. Still, if you did not have great strength and wisdom, such a spirit would not have been drawn to you, and would certainly never offer its allegiance. That is no small thing, ashalan. I am beginning to understand what my vhen'an and the Wolf see in you."

Fenlamea smiled abashedly, a blush tinting her cheeks all the way to her ear tips. "Such high praise, lenalin!" She dipped her head in gratitude. "Myathash'ar."

Elgar'nan chuckled, allowing a small grin to spread over his face. "I will retrieve our kin. They should bear witness as well, and we must be on our way to Tarasyl'an Te'las."

She nodded. "Ma nuvenin, lenalin."

Elgar'nan dipped back inside with a smile, vanishing behind his son's spell.

Fenlamea turned to her companions with a sheepish smile. "That went surprisingly well."

Abelas chuckled. "Elgar'nan has always been fond of his daughters. You are his only daughter, for now. So long as you remain in his good graces, he will always support you."

"Nothing quite like having a god for a father." Dorian commented. "I'd make sure you stay on his good side, if I were you."

"Duly noted. For now, however, I think I need to concentrate on one particular member of my new family."

Abelas nodded. "Agreed. We should speak privately, before you meet with him."

"Ma nuvenin, hah'ren. I will gladly listen to any advice you have for me."

Before he could formulate a reply to that, Fen'harel emerged from his temple, Mythal supporting him on his right side. His eyes cast about in a listless manner, until they locked onto Cunning.

He chuckled. "I was wondering when you would show up. You've been watching her for far too long to waste any more time now."

Cunning nudged Fenlamea and whimpered, nodding towards Fen'harel. Fenlamea seemed to understand, and nodded her permission. Cunning went to Fen'harel, bowing her head gently.

Fen'harel smiled. "Do not worry over me, old friend. I will be fine. We shall be seeing much of each other, until she learns to control my gift."

Cunning snorted, then sighed, nodding gently before she turned back to stand at Fenlamea's side.

Fenlamea threaded her fingers through the fur at the nape of Cunning's neck, scratching lightly. "Are you alright, falon?"

Cunning nodded, bumping gently into Fenlamea's side.

Falon'din and Dirthamen slipped through the barrier, June appearing in their wake. Elgar'nan followed, gesturing at the entrance as the sound of the doors closing behind him echoed against the mountains around them.

"Well, since you're all here now, just choose your mounts. The wolf's mine, the dracolisc is Dorian's, and Abelas usually rides Sathem. Atisha is Fen'harel's. Everything else is up for grabs." Fenlamea shrugged, waving vaguely at the remaining mounts.

A few minutes later, everyone had claimed and mounted their choices. Mythal chose the hart Cole normally rode, June went for the sturdy Nopalina, Elgar'nan rode the dreadsteed, and The Twins opted for the twin harts Abelas had summoned.

They set off at a gentle walk, Fenlamea at the head of their group, to ensure they were not delayed entry once they reached the keep. Elgar'nan and Mythal rode just behind her on either side, The Twins and June taking up the middle, Abelas and Dorian the rear.

Once they picked their way down the mountainside and into the valley, Abelas saw Fenlamea turn to Mythal.

"Have you informed them about vallaslin in this age?" she asked.

"I have," Mythal answered, "much to their confusion. But they understand, and have agreed to try their best not to call any marked as such slaves. Speaking from experience, it is a difficult habit to break. But they will learn, just as I did."

Fenlamea gave a sad smile, but nodded. "I will ensure everyone is assigned their own quarters once we arrive. Only key members of the Inquisition know the truth of who we went to retrieve, so discretion will be key for now. Once everyone is settled, we should have a meeting to discuss some initial plans. I have a multitude of resources at my disposal, so we can begin sending out explanations and instructions very quickly."

"A solid foundation, ashalan." Elgar'nan replied, prompting Fenlamea to twist to look at him, "'Ma vhen'an and I shall ensure our other children listen to your advice, until they understand this world competently enough. There is much to learn, I imagine."

"There is, lenalin, though lanalin and 'ma hah'ren will be the most instrumental in assisting all of you to adjust to this time, to make the transition to a new age as smooth as possible. It must be approached with great care, or it will spell disaster for all. I know this era well, but any advice I give will be shaped by it. There are gaps in my understanding that lanalin especially does not possess."

He saw Mythal shake her head. "You are selling yourself short, ashalan. Just because you were born in this century, does not mean you lack the wisdom to know what must be done, and how we must do it. I declared you to be our guide and gave you the power to aid you in this task. I wouldn't have done so, if I didn't think you capable of succeeding."

He caught the slight blush on Fenlamea's cheek as she answered, "I... of course, lanalin. Ir abelas, I misspoke. Of course I will do everything I can to be the guide you wish me to be. I only meant that - of those in our group - you and Abelas are the two who understand best what it is like to exist in this time, after having lived in the time of Elvhenan. Your combined experiences will be instrumental in this transitional period."

"Yet again, your humility is impressive, ashalan," Elgar'nan commented.

Her aura flooded with pleased embarrassment as she turned once again to look at the All-Father with a sly grin. "Be careful, lenalin. I may just float away on that cloud of praise you keep blessing me with."

Elgar'nan gave a full-bodied laugh, shaking his head in amusement. "A sense of humor! A very important thing to have, ashalan; I am gladdened to see it."

Fenlamea shrugged, still grinning. "I do try, lenalin."

She called back behind her, "I think we'd all like to get settled in before night comes. Shall we make a bit more haste?"

Varying measures of assent and agreement answered her, so she straightened on Cunning and gently urged her into a loping pace, the others following suit eagerly to keep up. Abelas worried for a moment if she would be able to stay on Cunning's back without a saddle, but soon found his fear was completely unfounded. She seemed to ride more comfortably bareback. He resolved to ask her about it later.

The towering outline of a restored Tarasyl'an Te'las shimmered in bright glory as they crested the last hill, bringing into stark contrast how affected it had been by the veil. Dull stone shone with a polished gleam, previously tattered banners flapped in vibrant colors, their edges clean and whole. He could feel Mythal's protective shield over the fortress from where they were, still nearly a thousand paces away from the bridge gate.

Cunning slowed at the lack of urging from a gaping Fenlamea. To Abelas' surprise, the rest of the pantheon reduced their clip as well, keeping her firmly in the lead. Mythal sidled up to her, and he could hear the smile in her voice, even if he couldn't see it.

"It is beautiful, is it not? Take your time; the rest of us have seen it in its full glory before, but you are its mistress now, and you should enjoy the view." She patted Fenlamea's shoulder, then veered off to her flank again.

They continued at a trot up the slope to the gate, arriving to see a large compliment of the guard standing on the sidelines at attention. Abelas moved to her side, protectively. The shem he'd learned was the Commander of her troops greeted her with a raised hand, his voice harried.

"Inquisitor! We've prepared as best we can, but this is... nothing like what we expected. We readied quarters for your guests, but there's a problem: the castle keeps, well... shifting, new rooms appear before we even realize they're needed- I've never seen anything like it."

"A fortress should know best how to please its mistress, should it not?" Mythal answered him, before Fenlamea could speak. "It is only doing what is best for her needs; indeed, that is how it was designed. You'll get used to it."

"I don't know who you are, but you seem to know more about it than we do," Cullen replied. "Everyone is in uproar, I have no idea what we can do to settle them down. They were told what was about to happen, but we were nowhere near prepared."

Fenlamea finally spoke up, "They will adjust, in time, Commander. We need to get settled, but as soon as we're ready, I'll call a meeting to discuss everything. The rest of the world will need more guidance than our people will."

He pressed in, lowering his voice so only the few in front of him could hear, "Fenlamea, I don't think you understand. People who have never had a spark of magic in their life are suddenly mages. The civilians are nearing a riotous frenzy if something isn't done. I can keep my troops in line, but we do not have nearly enough templars to handle the abominations we will have soon, if this keeps up."

Dirthamen laughed from behind Fenlamea, moving up between her and his mother to speak to Cullen, "The veil is gone, Commander of my sister's army. Demons have no interest in possessing anything now. If you do find abominations within your ranks, then they have hidden themselves well, for a long time. There is no risk of possession now. We will handle the panicking populace in a moment; for now, please let us pass in peace."

Cullen looked to Fenlamea for guidance. When she nodded her head in agreement with Dirthamen, the Commander shook his head and stepped aside. "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you."

Fenlamea chuckled, tilting her head at her Commander. "Are you a mage now, Cullen?"

Cullen blanched, then blushed, eyes flitting to the side in shame as he swallowed thickly, then gave the tiniest of nods. "Everyone is. I can't say I'm exactly fond of that fact, but it's apparently unavoidable, now."

She nodded with an understanding smile. "It's alright, Cullen. I will train you myself, if you like. You can teach your troops what you learn. We will deal with this, falon, have no fear. It will all work out."

Cullen looked as unsure as anyone possibly could at hearing that, but he took a breath, clenched his jaw, and nodded. "As you say, Inquisitor. Shall I have some of the guard accompany you to the main tower?"

Fenlamea shook her head. "Thank you, but that won't be necessary, Commander. If someone wishes to greet our arrival with foolish, pointless violence, then they do not belong in the Inquisition's ranks to begin with."

He nodded grimly. "Very well. I have troops in place to keep the crowds back, hopefully that will be enough."

"It's appreciated, Commander," Dirthamen interjected, "you represent my sister's holdings with honor."

Cullen gave Dirthamen a worried glance, but reined in his apprehension quickly. "Thank you."

He shifted his gaze back to Fenlamea, then lower, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Wait, is... that a wolf?"

She laughed. "Yes, it is. Well, she's a spirit of Cunning, actually, but she is currently a wolf. Do you like her?"

Cullen seemed like he was a bit unsteady on his feet, but managed to stay upright. "It is... very wolfy."

That comment was met by several titters of laughter throughout their group, causing Cullen to blush and clear his throat awkwardly. "Yes, well. Perhaps we should move on and get you inside. There is much to be done."

Fenlamea smiled. "That there is, Cullen." She leaned down and patted his arm. "All will be well. You'll see."