A/N: Trying to feed the people while I have the bread, so here's another short chapter. I decided to post it alone, as the next Torran section will be action heavy. Besides. There's the first meeting to plot out. Again, thanks to those reading, the alerts, and the favs. It's great to be writing again, with jediserenity82 on my six :)

They will fail.

Leliana lurched forward, gasping as the last tendrils of the nightmare clutched at her mind. Her hands trembled as she pulled a shawl around her shoulders and quickly lit the candle on her nightstand. A quick glance showed the other sisters in the dormitory remained undisturbed, quiet in their sleep. Squeezing her eyes shut, the lay sister began reciting the Chant, calming her racing heart.

The vision she'd been granted was full of horror. Men and beasts screaming as rusted blades and bolts cut into their flesh. Ghoulish smiles cut through the grim darkness as the sound of battle rent the air. One by one, she watched as the banners of the United Forces of Fereldan swayed and fell to the earth, lions and eagles rampant trampled into the bloody soil.

But not all fell. In the distance, across a field of bodies, she could see a wounded figure on its knees, shoulders bracing a badly damaged banner bearing the griffin, crest of the Wardens. Before her eyes, a small tendril of green twined around the ruined shaft, a red tear shaped bud appearing at its tip. Hope.

I must tell the Reverend Mother.

Gathering herself, Leliana slipped from the shared quarters and padded down the torchlit hall of the humble Chantry, determinedly sending positive thoughts to the young mother and children who had taken up residence in her small chamber. The sister had moved to the dormitories as the influx of people seeking shelter increased.

Though late, she knew she would find the congregation's leader at prayer in the main hall, or in one of the chapels connected to the room. The elder priestess, was known to hold prayers at the darkest hours of night, when fear took its hold on anxious hearts.

"What troubles you, Sister Leliana?" The Reverend Mother's voice preceded the woman as she emerged from a side room to greet the girl. She could feel the young sister's worry flowing off of her in waves. "More dreams?"

"Terrible dreams." Leliana replied fervently, eyes hot as she recalled the slaughter laid waste upon her dreamscape. Rich auburn locks fell into her face, silken strands sticking to her goosebumped, clammy flesh. She stepped towards the woman. "Mother, I strongly urge you to consider an expedited evacuation of Lothering." Her lips tightened as the elder woman glided nearer. She must believe me!

"I understand your fears child, but have faith in the Maker." The priestess lay a gentle but firm hand on Leliana's shoulder and guided her to a pew. "Moreso, with the King set to win an historical victory, the Chantry cannot be seen to doubt him. Just as the united forces of Fereldan march upon the Darkspawn, so must we march onward as a Thedas united under the Maker and his Lady."

"Mais, it is the Maker from whom my warning comes!" Leliana cried out, slipping into Orlesian in her agitation. Descriptions of her visions rushed from her lips in a torrent, the Rose, the fallen banners, the hope she prayed with all her being yet walked the land. Only the eyes that haunted her day and night did she keep to herself.

"Please, Mother," she finished tiredly. "You must listen. I fear for the people here, sisters and brothers, people of Lothering. We must warn the rest of Fereldan of what horrors are to come!"

The older woman remained silent, her eyes stony where they were once warm. "Talk such as this will bring far more trouble than you may be willing to accept, Leliana." She rose, shoulders hunched as though bearing a heavy weight, hands tightly clasped behind her back. "Do not speak of this again, to anyone."

"But, Mother!"

"Not another word, Sister Leliana!" The Reverend Mother's voice cracked like a whip, startling the young woman into silence. "Now," she continued in a gentler tone. "You will return to the dormitory and get some much needed rest. I fear the stress of being so close to a battlefield after your...experiences...in Orlais is fraying your nerves. Indeed, I heard of your encounter with the bandits: it is lucky Ser Bryant was at your side. I believe it would be best if you stayed close to the Chantry until the fighting in the south is over."

Leliana stiffened, shock and fear, betrayal like...like knives in her gut. Not since bringing the ex-bard's battered and broken body to Lothering had the holy woman mentioned, much less made reference to her dark past. Where once she saw a confidante, a cynical stranger stood in the place of the woman who had led her to the Maker's embrace.

"Have I made myself clear?" The Reverend Mother pressed, brown eyes boring into blue. "Leliana?"

"What matter from whence the warning came?" Leliana replied after a moment, desperation leaking into her quiet voice. "Everything I feel tells me that the battle will be lost, and this town is directly in the path of the Darkspawn ho-"

"Enough." The old priestess threw up a hand, and for a moment Leliana did not know whether the woman meant to strike her or merely stay her words. "Enough, I say. I have heard you out and given you my decision. We will not compromise the Chantry's standing on the basis of a girl's dreams. Leave me. Now."

Throat tight, Leliana bowed slightly and left the room in a rush. Behind her, the Reverend Mother drew in a shaky breath. Protect her, dear Lady. Guide her steps down this dangerous path.