MALEDICTUS

10.

It was just as well they began the ritual early.

Samson was tense—they all were—but Hadiza's words clung to him like an ague; a chill in his bones that would not abate, even as the braziers were lit and heated the room. Dorian had prepared the lyrium and Samson was once more privately impressed with the mage's vast knowledge. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised, given how much time Dorian spent with his nose in a book and a goblet of wine on hand. Still, the man's vast well of arcane knowledge and his contacts were invaluable. It occurred to him in that moment that he was the only active templar in the room, and Aja, while a warrior of considerable strength and skill, was not equipped for the pitfalls of this situation.

"Hey," Aja muttered as if reading his thoughts, "she's still a Harrowed mage, even though the Circles have been dissolved. She's done this before and passed. Stop fidgeting." Samson shot her a dark look and Aja merely returned it with a knowing smirk and a shrug. He could say it was the lyrium thirst that made him edgy, but he'd only just recently had a drink to bolster his strength. It quelled the pain in his gut; along with the concoction Dorian had made for him to combat his ailments.

He almost wished it was the thirst that made his heart race and his body ache.

Instead, he focused on Hadiza and Feynriel who were preparing to drink. Unlike in the Circle, where the mage was simply left alone, they made themselves comfortable.

"You drink first," Feynriel instructed, "and wait for me in the Fade. I will soon follow." Hadiza nodded, and Dorian handed her the large chalice, which glowed blue, casting her face in stark relief. She met his eyes over the rim of the chalice, and he saw her small smile. Samson wanted to smile back, but couldn't fix his face to do so properly. Her smile grew wider at his attempt and he growled low in his throat. She didn't need him to speak for her to see the message writ on his face: get on with it, princess.

She brought the chalice to her lips, and tipped it back, drinking the lyrium.

Her eyes burned blue, and Feynriel quickly took the chalice from her as she fell backward onto the cushioning support of soft pillows, limp as if someone had drugged her. She was out cold, and Samson could make out the glowing remnants of lyrium on her lips. Feyriel set the chalice aside, and helped arrange Hadiza in a more comfortable position. Then, he took up the chalice and downed the lyrium. Dorian caught it as Feynriel laid back, eyes glowing before he shut them.

"This is so strange," Aja remarked, "is that what you fucking mages do to enter the Fade?" Dorian set the empty chalice on the small end table next to the couch.

"Lady Trevelyan, are you suggesting we find a way to breach the Fade physically?" Dorian asked sardonically, "After being in it one would think you'd find this a much safer avenue."

"I wouldn't fucking know, Dorian," Aja shot back, "only time I've ever been in the Fade was physically. Wouldn't want to take that trip again any time soon."

Samson watched them both, saw something pass over their faces; a shared fear and pain, perhaps. What had they seen in the Fade? Neither one of them spoke of it, but in the year gone by, Samson had heard the tales.

The Champion of Kirkwall had sacrificed herself in the Fade to save Hadiza and her squad, he knew. It was a loss felt by many, and Samson wondered if Hadiza would meet the Champion there in the dream-version of the Fade, wondered if the Champion had found some way against all possible odds to survive, but he doubted it. Merishka had been a stubborn and tough plant in Kirkwall, nigh impossible to uproot, but she wasn't invincible. He knew she was dead, and he wished he didn't know that.

Instead, he focused on Hadiza and Feynriel, his templar protocols summoned up on instinct, watching for any signs of possession, vigilant and dutiful. He did not like Harrowings, and he counted himself blessed to have never had to strike a definitive blow at a failed Harrowing, although he'd seen his share of them. Still, this was not a Harrowing, which made it worse. There was no telling what would happen to the two mages in their Fade-state. There was no leashed demon to test them and find their minds heavily fortified, their willpower obstinate. If something happened it would be up to him to dispel and dispatch.

And the thought horrified him.

Figures, He thought to himself, I never once had to strike a mage down during a Harrowing in the Order. Now the Inquisitor decides to enter the Fade and I might have to do one outside the Order. Andraste you sure got a sense of humor.

"So," Dorian said cheerily, "whose hungry? I heard the cooks baked peach pies."

After being in the Fade in her corporeal body, the dream-state seemed eerily tame, but no less haunting. The sickly green glow of the place was still vivid, and everything was still moist and fetid, but the sound…the sound was muted, just like in her Harrowing. The sound was muted and off, and the Black City was far once more. When she'd been here physically, it had been close enough that she felt perhaps she could walk to it.

Hadiza turned a slow circuit around, and laughed to herself at her idiocy.

"As if I could figure out where in the Fade I am," she said to herself, chortling in a self-deprecating way, "this is such bullshit." Her voice didn't carry far, and seemed to fall flat just arm's length out in front of her. She wondered why the dream-state was so different from the corporeal one. She wondered too much about the wrong things it seemed. Hadiza glanced down at her hands, then checked her body for weapons. It had been a long time since she'd entered the Fade in her dreams.

"It's different, isn't it?" Feynriel's voice was near and startled her into nearly leaping from her skin. She turned, finding him standing in the patch of monotonous green, looking as calm and serene as if they were standing in a forest. Hadiza pursed her lips and frowned. She was sure he wasn't a spirit, but having him share her dream like this was awkward and…intimate.

"You are said to be able to shape the Fade to your liking," Hadiza said nervously, "any way you can shape this into something a bit more pleasant?" Feynriel tilted his head, his eyes bright, and his slight smile a touch too eager. Hadiza felt her hackles raise in alarm.

"And what will I get in return for this favor?" Feynriel asked and Hadiza knew.

"Demon." She whispered fiercely, almost to the point of laughing. Of all the things to happen, one would think demons would steer clear of her and yet here she was, facing off with a demon that took the form of the dream walker.

"It won't work here, you know," the demon said in Feynriel's voice, making to approach her. Hadiza knew that if she reacted in fear, it would win, so she stood her ground, reaching for her staff, "you may have the advantage out there, but here, you are just another silly mage grasping at power."

Hadiza wanted to laugh and that was exactly what she did. She cackled, loudly and obnoxiously. She went into a fit of hysterics, leaning on her staff until tears of mirth leaked from her eyes.

The demon's expressions were off, as if it were not used to wearing a face capable of emotion, so it came off looking perplexed and slightly perturbed.

"I know the Anchor doesn't work," Hadiza finally said breathlessly, "I just…this is all so silly, isn't it? I mean…we're inside of my dreams, and you just approached me wearing the face of someone I just met. Is…is this your first time?" She began to laugh again, wheezing.

The demon snarled, and Feynriel's face morphed, half-in and half-out of the demon that wore it, so the snarl was exaggerated, baring sharp fangs too large for a human mouth, wrinkling the skin in the wrong places, and one of the eyes being eaten away by an inky darkness, leaving only a pinprick of ember-red in the center. Hadiza didn't even flinch, but she did quiet her laughter.

"Maker!" She exclaimed, running her fingers through her hair, "I suppose there's a first time for everything, demon. So I'm going to ask you some questions."

"You dare?" It demanded, once again wearing Feynriel's face, "You speak to me as if you have some kind of power over me." Hadiza shrugged, turned, and began to walk up the single path before her. The demon followed.

"Have it your way," she said flippantly, waving her hand in a gesture of dismissal, "I am not here to consort with demons. I've more important matters at hand." The demon followed after her.

"I could help, you know," it told her, "I could help you find whatever it is you seek." Hadiza made a showy gesture of yawning, and that only seemed to goad the demon's frustration. She had been Harrowed, yes, but she had also walked the Fade physically. This was but mere child's play and the temptations of demons paled in comparison to what she already had been offered.

The environment began to shift, giving both the demon and Hadiza pause.

"What…?" The demon was confused for a moment, and then it wasn't, screaming in pain as it began to wither and die, shriveling into the shifting landscape. Hadiza watched, oddly calm and unfeeling, blinking only when the landscape righted itself. Feynriel stood in the demon's place.

"You resisted it rather easily, Inquisitor," he said with a smile, "I suppose given your experiences, this is a pale imitation of the real thing." Hadiza watched him a moment, and Feynriel gazed back. She shrugged.

"When you walk the Fade for real, it is far more destitute and foreboding. Here, at least, when you are aware you are dreaming, it is much easier to resist. I can take you to the Fade sometime if you'd like." Hadiza smiled at him, feral and amused. Feynriel laughed.

"I think I'll have to respectfully decline, Inquisitor," he said, holding up his hands, "for now, let us begin our search for what ails you." At that, Hadiza sighed, weary at the thought. The Fade was endless and the chances of them finding the source of her ailments were slim at best. She glanced around. Feynriel had shaped her perception, and so the appearance was that of Skyhold. It was strange to see it thus, empty and abandoned yet it looked well tended. She glanced around, then back to Feynriel.

"You think this will make it easier to find the problem." She stated and Feynriel said nothing, merely began to walk.

"I suppose it would be easier to start with familiar territory," he told her as they left the side room to enter the main hall, "rather than attempt to navigate the raw Fade itself. Ah, see here…" Feynriel pointed to the stone floors and Hadiza came up short with a gasp. The cracks in the stone were glowing with angry red veins, crawling along the walls like sickened ivy. At the rise of the dais, the Inquisition thrown was occupied. Hadiza's eyes narrowed.

"Who is…?" She turned but Feynriel was gone, "…Damnit." She muttered and began to walk carefully toward the dais. The figure was hooded and cloaked, sitting in absolute stillness, but as Hadiza came closer, its head turned slowly, and darkness gazed back from beneath the cowl. Hadiza paused at the base of the steps.

"Who are you?" She demanded, lifting her chin. The figure's cowl-clad head dipped, and two gloved hands gripped the arms of the throne and pushed. Tall, was Hadiza's initial thought, very tall. The figure did not speak, bringing up its hands to push back the cowl. Hadiza's face scrunched into a perplexed frown. It was a man, olive-skinned and severe-looking. There was a scar along his lip that gave him the appearance of a sneer, and his dark eyes limned her in a baleful glare. Hadiza returned the glare with one of her own, only her eyes were lit with defiance. This was her mind, after all.

"I would ask you the same question," he said, and his voice was deep and resonant, bowed with the weight of an unfathomable wisdom, rife with the knowledge of ages long since regulated to the footnotes and pages of Thedosian history. The man who stood before her was old before her ancestors were young, and yet his face held the echo of a youth forced into maturity by circumstance. Hadiza hesitated in her answer, feeling stripped of her usual bravado.

"Names hold power," she said in a tremulous voice, willing the steel back into it, "and I'd not give up mine so easily. Who are you?"

He laughed at her, and the sound plucked at her nerves, hooking into her, as if he attempted to lift skin from the bone. She grimaced. Then, he began to approach, slow and methodical, until he stood before her.

"Perhaps that answer is what you are supposed to discover for yourself, Inquisitor." He sneered, and walked past her. Hadiza did not follow, narrowing her eyes at his retreating back, and then she looked down. The red veins in the floor glowed brighter with each step he took. She took a deep breath.

"Wait!" She shouted, and ran toward him. He hadn't stopped but he did slow his pace until she caught up, "What is this? Is this red lyrium?"

The man tipped his gaze to her, and she swore there was some semblance of a smirk twisting the corner of his scarred mouth. He said nothing, and kept walking.

"Corypheus." She muttered, "He has something to do with this."

That gave the man pause, and he turned to look at her, his gaze heavy with a brooding calculation as he considered her as one might consider an insect. Hadiza gazed back, a spell hovering at the edges of her mind within easy reach.

"That is not a name I am familiar with," he said slowly, "but I like the sound of it. You may address me thus if you desire. Do not expect an answer, though." He turned and began walking again. The Fade shifted again, making him stop. Hadiza smiled smugly.

"That was not a polite trick," Feynriel stepped forward, "and I believe the lady asked you a question." Hadiza crossed her arms, raising her brows expectantly. The man—whom she was absolutely certain was the source of her problem—looked agitated, but he shut his eyes, chuckling.

"A somniari," he said, amused and sardonic, "I did not think to see your like in the Fade ever again. Tell me, how is it you came by such power?" Feynriel did not answer, but kept a bland smile on his face. Hadiza wondered what he was playing at. Was this man a demon of some sort?

"The same as any mage, I suppose," Feynriel answered dryly, "but that's neither here nor there." The man grinned briefly and then turned his gaze back to Hadiza.

"Sethius." He told her and Hadiza did not like the look of his smile, "Remember that name, little mageling." Then he was simply gone. Hadiza was not sure if she blinked or the Fade had simply willed him out of existence but he was gone. Feynriel's brows knit in perplexity.

"Interesting," he murmured to himself, "never seen a demon do that before." Then, he looked up at Hadiza, "Shall we be getting back? I believe that creature to be the source of your problem, but I do not know how." Hadiza nodded wordlessly, her head spinning.

Sethius.

When Hadiza opened her eyes it was well past nightfall. The room was dark save for the braziers and the fireplace being lit, and Samson sat stiffly at her head, clearly dozing, heavy-lidded and exhausted. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, moving to sit up. Samson was immediately roused as she and Feynriel sat up and blinked away the dream that had been the Fade.

"Oh good, they're back," Dorian said cheerily, "I was beginning to think all this food would go to waste. You're quite lucky, you know, the cooks were very generous with the meat pies this evening." Hadiza glanced around, stretching and yawning.

"How ya feelin', princess?" Samson queried and Hadiza gave him a weary smile. He returned it, tugging a lock of her hair gently. Feynriel, having grown accustomed to Fade-walking, was up as if he'd merely taken a simple powernap, already picking over the food that awaited them.

"Hey!" Samson snapped, "So did you find what you were looking for or not?" He helped Hadiza to her feet, steadying her as she swayed uneasily. Feynriel glanced back at the two of them, his expression punctilious as he took a bite of an apple.

"Ask her. She's the one half-possessed."

Hadiza's eyes went wide as Samson let out a sputtered swear.

"You wanna run that by me again?" Samson asked with a warning note to his tone. Feynriel was completely calm as he chewed.

"She is half-possessed," he waited for Samson's swear to come out and then continued, "meaning she has someone encroaching on her, but not fully possessing her. This would account for the veins in her arm. However…" Feynriel finished the apple quickly, his appetite prodigious after such a long trek through the Fade. Hadiza felt her knees give way and leaned against her bed, feeling sick.

"I don't think it's a demon…or even a spirit. It's something, though." Feynriel finished, and Samson glanced at Dorian who for once was without words. Hadiza felt her mouth watering, felt her stomach quivering, and she ran to her chamber pot and leaned over as she began to retch. Having not eaten in several hours all that came up with clear, viscous liquid, burning her mouth and throat. Dorian was immediately by her side with a cup of water. Hadiza gulped it down, gasping and panting.

"You gotta give me answers, kid," Samson said, not moving and assured that Dorian had matters well in hand with Hadiza, "is it a demon or not?"

"Still thinking like a templar," Feynriel shook his head, "it's not a demon or a spirit. It is something else. I guess if you want to paint in broad strokes it would be classified as a spirit." Samson rolled his eyes. It was all the same to him at this point. Hadiza had something trying to take over her body and he wanted it out. Feynriel wasn't giving them answers as to how to do that.

"How do we get it out of her?" Samson demanded and Feynriel looked at Hadiza, who was caught between worry, terror, and absolute despair.

"I'm a somniari, Samson," he said sadly, "I can only shape the Fade. I can't expel spirits. But…but I think there are mages who specialize in that…right, Lady Trevelyan?"

Aja stood up from her seat, having not spoken the entire time, merely observing.

"Right. That is why I wrote to some people when Dorian set out search teams to find you. In the event that you could not help, I think I know someone who can point us in the right direction."

"No," Hadiza groaned, "you didn't…" Aja gave a half-smile.

"I had to, Diza," she replied, "it was going to happen sooner or later, but this isn't something you can let your grudge get in the way of. He can help us."

"Who?" Samson asked. Hadiza sighed, running her hands over her face.

"Bann Trevelyan," she muttered, "our father. We have to go to Ostwick, don't we?"