It actually did bother him, a bit, this ability to summon wisps. It was uncanny, and he had little trust for anything having to do with mages. And yet, he found himself falling into the habit of humming along with the wisp-song in his head whenever he was relaxed. His words to Feynriel had been no lie; there was something about it – the song, or the humming along with it – that he found very peaceful in some not entirely explainable way. Alluringly so; not humming along with the song whenever he was relaxed enough to remember it would have been far more difficult.

And the wisps came, when he hummed.

Never more than one at a time, but he was certain it was not always the same one. The wisp's note varied, for one thing, as did its behaviour. He quickly became certain that there were five of them that came and went; he gave them names in his head, mostly based on their observed behaviour.

There was Hover, which he was reasonably certain was the one that had first come through; it liked to perch in mid-air somewhere near him, sometimes showing some greater degree of interest in him but mostly just there, bobbing a little up and down, and prone to leaving if he stopped humming even briefly.

Tracer was the first one that he'd realized was a different wisp – its note was far higher than Hover's, on the edge of audibility, and it liked to trace the paths of his lyrium lines, floating along an inch or so above his skin, swooping along the curves of them even when such were hidden under his clothes. Clearly clothes did not impede its awareness of where the lyrium was. It would often stay for some period of time even after he'd stopped humming, seeming entranced by his lyrium, before finally returning to where it belonged.

Diver grew excited whenever his lyrium was lit up, and liked to fly through him at such times, passing as easily through his flesh as his own hand could reach into another when phased, though thankfully without any of the attendant damage that he himself caused on such occasions. Usually Diver came back out the other side, though sometimes it vanished back to Fade instead. When his lyrium was not active, it would flit around whatever room he was in, moving from point to point seemingly at random, spiralling up and down in place briefly before suddenly flitting off to a different location. He guessed that it was Diver that had been the second wisp to visit him.

Then there was Hider, the shy one, who had the lowest note of the five and was noticeably smaller in size. So-named because it was most often to be found lurking under the fall of his hair, tucked in behind one of the projections of his armour, perched in back of his ear, or some similar close-by and relatively inconspicuous location.

And last was Singer, who had three different notes it made in random succession. It was prone to the longest visits, little caring whether or not he carried on humming once it had come through. It was the most curious of the wisps, and would often bumble around his vicinity for some time, exploring the surfaces of the walls, the drapes, any items that might be left out. He had once watched it spend an entire hour slowly exploring every petal, leaf and thorn of a rose in a vase in the sitting room before it had finally vanished back to the Fade. Just that single rose, ignoring every other plant in the mixed bouquet of blooms.

Feynriel had no idea why those five wisps seemed to be particularly interested in Fenris, though he did say, after checking in dreams one night, that he had seen all five of them lingering near the structure that was Fenris' lyrium in the Fade. "Wisps gather near lyrium; I know I mentioned that to you previously," he said. "These five seem to have settled on lurking near yours. I suppose that makes them the most likely to hear and respond to your hums. Though it might equally well be the other way around; that they lurk near your lyrium because they have previously responded to you, and are interested in it because they know it is a part of you."

Whatever the reason, Fenris grew used to their presence, and even found himself welcoming their wordless company, especially when he was involved in particularly boring tasks, such as reconditioning his leathers, or working through the sets of exercises that were putting him back in proper fighting condition.

His recovery went swiftly; it wasn't long before he and Feynriel were able to begin discussing where to go once they left Kirkwall, and know that they spoke of an event that would happen within days, not weeks.

"If you have no real destination... there is one place I would like to go, before heading further afield," Fenris said hesitantly one evening.

"And where would that be?"

"Starkhaven. Which is, I know, closer to Tevinter than here... but surely that in itself might help to throw off anyone who is seeking you. They are more likely to believe you have taken ship from Kirkwall than that you will head north over the mountains."

Feynriel snorted, then smiled crookedly. "By that logic I should head west to Nevarra, which is even closer to Tevinter. But why Starkhaven?"

"There are people there I would wish to see. I had considered going there, when I fell ill, to make my farewells; Kirkwall was as far as I could manage. While it is no longer for the same reason that I wish to go, still... I would go there first, if I could."

Feynriel nodded. "As good a destination as any to start, I suppose – I have no objection."

Fenris smiled. "Thank you. I would suggest we make it look as if we did book passage by ship; make enquiries down at the docks, perhaps, about departures to various points, and what the cost would be, and so on. And then leave very quietly for the north."

"That sounds acceptable," Feynriel agreed.