Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or Star Wars

The texts with _ in them are censored words and names that are omitted from Daylen's visions.

Dragon Wars: Rebellion

Episode 11: It's a trap

Fen hugged his father's leg, keeping close to him as they watched the Orzammar Garrison begin to march. The Stormtroopers were following an army of golems, powerful giants of stone and metal. At the back, mounted on the turret of a tank, was Branka, the one dwarven Paragon who rediscovered the anvil of the void. Fen blinked in confusion as his father, took his hand and led him away from the crowd.

"We have no interest in such things," the man said.

"But..."

"What happens to this world, doesn't affect us, it will move on, empires will rise and fall, this rebellion may win the day, but it will not be righteous my son," the bald elf knelt in front of his son and hugged him.

They walked back to their tent. But when they got there, their wife and mother wasn't there. The bald elf looked at the note on his lover's bunk.

"I am sorry!"

"Let me make that clear, nothing you or Fen have done has made me leave. I've made a choice my love, I can't put up with the tyranny of the empire any longer. I know you won't approve, I know that if I talked to you about it, you would have come out with a lecture about how one day the empire and the rebellion will be no different from one another, that nothing will change, and you'll sound reasonable and convinced. But the man I fell in love with, had hope in his heart."

"That's why I have gone Solas, because I haven't given up hope yet."

"Yours Ma Vhenan, forever more, Ellana Lavellan!"

"PS, tell Fen his full name, let him decide for himself whether he can be proud of our heritage."

Solas crumpled the letter up and put the fist to his heart. He took a deep breath, his eyes red from holding the tears in.

"Daddy, where has mummy gone?" Fen asked.

"Brave fools, the brave...are always...the first to die!"

Wynn looked across the great distance with her binoculars. The children of the tower were at her side. Conner tugged at her robe, wanting to get a better look. She hushed him and kept on analysing the course of the battle. The cult of Andraste had taken position within a trench, Leliana's dragon was strafing the enemy forces, hitting them with electricity. From the direction of Highever and Amaranthine, Wynn could see the werewolf and Sylvans holding their own against the two city reinforcement units.

"Enchanter Wynn, are they going to lose?" Conner asked.

"Right now we've lost the element of surprise, the commanders are rallying the enemy forces, stay here," she explained to the boy, before running to the camp.

Speeders, horses and carts, even werewolves, had run back with wounded. Volunteers who couldn't fight, did what they could with direction from Wynn and the other more academic mages. The Dalish second Lanaya was stitching wounds with her magic. A man known only as Stitches was using poultices, and other medicines to disinfect and bandage wounds. He amputated the leg of one soldier who had had it crushed by a walker. Wynn however called deep within herself, to the spirit inside her, to tip people away from the edge of death.

The Chantry/Resistance offered little in the way of medical help and supplies. It all came from volunteers, like Kaitlyn and Bella, two girls from Redcliffe who bought supplies from the village too. Others included apostates from the Hinterlands and even people from the Avaar or Chasind. Food and most of the medical supplies were provided by the Dryden family, whom also bought the most volunteers.

"Mi'lady, can they win?" a soldier asked Wynn.

He had scorch markings on the side of his face. Herbs kept the pain from consuming him. But it wasn't the pain killers that made him smile, it was something else, at least Wynn liked to believe that.

"I don't know war, but I do know the person leading this assault, I know him," Wynn said.

She noticed quickly that others, the wounded, even the dying, were listening to her. They all wanted to hear about the man who inspired all of this, the man who freed the tower.

'The man who isn't even here to lead us,' Wynn thought bitterly, then reminded herself there was a reason for it.

Then she also reminded herself, of the importance of faith. The resistance, whom called themselves the true faith, had offered prayer, yet no true solution. It was a man who did something, who offered the people more than just words.

"Daylen Amell, I believe was not meant for this time, he thinks in a way most others don't, yet there is understanding in him. He doesn't believe in the maker, yet I have never seen him question a person's faith in their god. He's capable of outrage, yet never have I heard him lecture someone on their actions and belief. When he came to the tower, I could see there was no childish innocence within him, yet there were times he was capable of being so innocent. I thought of him as a contradiction, or felt he was acting, but no. He's someone who genuinely seeks to be the best person he can be, and to hopefully, inspire others to be as good as they can be."

She raised her head and smiled, she always felt empowered by the spirit of hope that prolonged her life. Yet hope shined brightest in the presence of men and women, whom inspired it.

"He is a man who is willing to compromise, but not who we are, that is his greatest strength, to bear the pain of sacrifice and to never truly compromise."

Becoming a dragon

Daylen continued following Flemeth and Morrigan, the daughter and mother pairing took their time in enacting their ritual. Morrigan had her hood over her head, her staff on the ground, legs crossed in meditation. The light sabre handles she possessed were also laid out in front of her. Flemeth also had her legs crossed in meditation, and reached out to touch her daughter's cheeks, pricking them with her gauntlets.

"You were never in any danger from me child," she said.

"Mother," Morrigan whispered, her eyes, and voice filled with awe, something Daylen presumed she was unaccustomed to.

Morrigan picked up the light sabres, clipped them to her belt, and left her staff behind. She walked past Daylen, her eyes beginning to glow white, elvhan marks appearing across her face. Flemeth then stood and smiled as Morrigan body was suddenly covered in a white light. Her body began to grow, wings protruded from her back, as her limbs and neck stretched, growing thicker. Horns grew from her head, curving as her jaw expanded. When the white light faded, Morrigan spread her wings, her red scales shining as she roared, revelling in the raw power of her new form. She stampeded across the fields, flapping her huge wings. Then she took flight, roaring again to announce her presence in the sky.

"She could have assumed that form without your help," Daylen said.

"What makes you say that child?" Flemeth asked.

"There's nothing special, or godly about it, it's merely an extension of your shape shifting abilities, you turn into animals because you know them, every intimate detail about them, you simply use that memory, or imagination in conjunction with your mana, if you have enough mana, you can change, that's what your ritual there was about, you were mentally exchanging the information, and transferring enough of your mana into her," he explained.

A surprised, but never the less impressed expression crossed Flemeth's face. She grinned, clapping her hands together as she approached Daylen.

"Well done, I don't think I've ever met a human with an understanding of magic like you, this must be more than just the teachings of the circle," she said.

"I can see things, patterns, every spell has a pattern, every magic has a path you can take to achieve it," Daylen said.

"Choosing the path others offer you, blinds you to alternatives, this is something your friends didn't understand. The red haired girl's reliance on a nonexistent god, and the boy's idealised memory of his ancestors. Even my daughter is reliant on my teachings, I gave her an approach to life," Flemeth explained.

"One could argue that that is what every parent does, that our views on morality and life are simply passed down from one generation to another. I however believe differently, we're all changing, we can become better, if we try!"

"But can you win?" the old god asked.

"I'll certainly try," Daylen said.

He turned around and began to walk away, only for Flemeth to suddenly appear in front of him.

"Without a dragon, what do you think you will be able to accomplish?" she asked.

"I can't control a dragon, Leliana could because of her absolute faith in the force, it enabled her to make a connection to the dragon and control it. Alistair, through the force too, came to accept his ancestry and the dragon's blood within him. Your daughter got some of your mana, but at the same time, despite your words about not harming her, you've put her under a geass, a form of enslavement," Daylen explained.

"From a certain point of view," Flemeth laughed.

"Of course, but what is to stop you from using that geass to control her actions? This rebellion is pointless if we trade one dictatorship for another."

"Child, that is all rebellion is," Flemeth huffed.

"Maybe in your experience, but there's always a chance that things will be different. You've given us enough power to win this battle, which is all we will need to do to put the rebellion on the map. We won't rely on you afterwards," Daylen said.

Flemeth was again impressed, if slightly amused by Daylen's stubborn pride. His eyes had a determination in them she had not seen since the time of the Evanuris. Looking at him, reminded her of her husband, the supposed all father of the elves, and her best friend Fen'harel the dread wolf. The wolf was prideful, but determined to perfect their society, so that they were free of all forms of slavery. But his friend and Flemeth's love, disagreed, believing that people needed a stern hand, that the common masses needed gods.

Once they had fought a war against tyranny, then they ultimately became the tyrants, even Flemeth/Mythal had come to the realisation that her justice was cruel. She grinned and laughed internally at the memory, of what her fellow Evanuris tried to do when humanity arrived. The imperials had not yet painted a full picture of that time. Yet she sensed that somewhere within the recesses of the boy mage's mind, he was creating, bit by bit, with each experience, a way to live and a way to rule. A way that would save everyone, an impossibility in Flemeth's experience.

"You won't accept the gift of the dragon, let me grant you something else then," Flemeth's eyes glowed white as she raised her hand.

Daylen braced himself, as a purple orb appeared in Flemeth's hand. She squeezed it, shattering it like glass. Then, everything around Daylen went white.

He lowered his hands, and adjusted his eyes to what was in front of him, and around him. The scenery continually shifted, patches of ground floated upside down above him, lightning crackled in the air, striking upwards instead of downwards. Then there was the haze, it was like a yellow mist that highlighted everything around him. A lake was in front of him, and when Daylen stepped on it, he didn't go through it. Yet, it still felt wet on his feet as he walked on it.

"The Fade," he identified the place.

"Fancy seeing you here," a voice said from the end of the lake, on the shore.

Daylen continued walking, seeing the mouse waiting for him. The mouse suddenly grew, turning into a blonde haired man in a brown and red mages robe. He crossed his arms together, smirking as Daylen passed him. They had crossed paths before, when Daylen took his harrowing. For though the man took on the form of a mouse, his power was not befitting the form, nor even befitting the form he took as he walked with Daylen. He was a demon, the most powerful kind of them all, a demon of Pride. Though during his harrowing, Daylen came to call him Mouse.

"Flemeth, Mythal, there's a woman you would have been better off not crossing," Mouse said.

"What do you know about her?" Daylen asked.

"Formerly an embodiment of justice, and history didn't treat her quite so well, a folk tale, a ghost story, a warning to mages and those whom would consort with my kind, a god to be worshipped, or hated, a woman whom became inflated with her own power and authority," Mouse's head bopped along as he spoke, walking casually with Daylen.

The demon whistled as they saw a star destroyer in the sky, but it was see through, ghostly images of crew men walked through the corridors. A new path formed before them like a bridge, one Daylen walked down. He looked over his shoulder, to see Mouse still following him.

"What do the spirits think of the empire?" Daylen asked, out of curiosity.

"The more obsessed, less sentient of us have opinions directed towards their individual emotions. Justices are split between the empire invoking lawful order and heinous crimes. Compassion generally agrees that the empire is cruel, although there are a few exceptions, the cruel to be kind. Sloths aren't bothered so long as their slumbers aren't interrupted, rage will be pissed no matter what they do, several Desires want to be the new Sith lords and as for Prides well, I find them...interesting," Mouse explained.

"What about the force, is there any connection to the fade?"

"None whatsoever, well," he corrected himself, stopping and putting a hand to his chin. "Before the Sith arrived there was only people with high spatial awareness, good instinct and character judges, never any talk or even existence of the force. It's as if the Sith broke a barrier around your planet, that welcomed in the force."

"You mean none of us would have been able to draw on the force if not for the Sith?" Daylen asked, turning to face Mouse in shock.

"With knowledge comes power, particularly the power of understanding, the Sith gave you knowledge and from that knowledge, many people were able to figure out how to use the force," Mouse said.

"No, you said that the force wasn't here until the Sith arrived."

"I don't have all the answers," the demon shrugged his shoulders.

He looked at Daylen, curious about the shocked expression on the young mage's face.

"What?" he asked.

"You just admitted you don't have all the answers," Daylen said.

"Of course I did, oh, you mean it would have been more prideful to claim to know everything. There's nothing prideful about that, it's only foolishness that makes men, and spirit alike claim that they have all of the answers," Mouse explained.

"A spirit doesn't admit fault, it strives to embody that which it represents!"

"A text book description of a spirit, but do you truly believe that?" Mouse asked.

"No, I believe any thinking creature, spirit or physical, is capable of change."

Mouse then laughed, hanging his head back.

"A good answer, I knew I found you interesting for a reason," he said.

They continued walking, down the ever stretching bridge, until the 'continent' they had come from was too far to see. Suddenly, a new continent appeared, coming together as if someone put it together by hand. Ghostly figures of green and orange floated around them, voices echoing from them.

"This was the birth place of our order, this is where we reform the _ order."

It was a woman's voice, and as it spoke Daylen saw the scenery shift, from the rocks, to beautiful trees and falls. Little wisps' appeared around the spirits, darting around them as they waved blades of light around.

"Age should be irrelevant at this time, let us bring in the young and the old, and the married too. Darth _ may have been influenced by his passion for _ but I still believe that it may have saved him, if he made a different choice."

Daylen looked over the edge of the continent, down the bridge he had walked up. He hadn't been walking ahead, but up, seemingly higher than the tower, but height wasn't always clear in the fade. The fade was perhaps showing him its equivalent of a galaxy far, far away. Again there was a shift, and the rocks reappeared, but they formed great structures, taller than any castle, and the stones flew about, speeder like sounds humming from them. Then there was the spirits, they floated around one another.

"I pleased to assume the position of chancellor, and to welcome back to the _ the grand master of the _ order, may they protect the _, as they have for a thousand years."

"They're trying to say something, why can't they say certain words?" Daylen asked.

"Through the force, the spirits re-enact events from galaxies away, it's the new thing in the fade," Mouse chuckled.

"Are they enacting the past, or the future?"

"Time isn't an issue for us, perhaps to some species it isn't either. Keep watching Daylen," Mouse said, pointing to the spirits, their movements became much more erratic.

"Order, order, _ assures me that clan _ actions had nothing to do with _. And if systems wish to leave, they can, but they can no longer consider themselves part of the_."

"They spread through our system, taking our worlds, they all had the same face."

"We are seeing a new _ war, us joining the last time is what led to the fall of _."

"No, not like last time, difficult to see, the future is. Begun this _ war has!"

Daylen felt a shiver run down his spine as the scenery shifted again and again. The temperature shifted, the air shifted, but every scene showed the same thing, spirits enacting great battles. Light and darkness, the effect of day becoming night, passed again and again as if the fade itself was blinking.

"No longer will we be part of the _!"

"No longer will we be part of the _ order!"

"We follow our own path, not the dictates of the council."

Then one by one, the spirits began to fade, as the Fade itself became chaotic, rivers of burning lava splashed around Daylen, who gripped his head as it ached.

"At last we will reveal ourselves to the _, at last we will have our revenge!"

"NOOO!"

He grit his teeth together, the pain getting worse. The spirits themselves writhed in pain as insane, no evil, laughter echoed across the Fade.

"Stop this please, you're a good person _, we left the order together, please come with me, let's just stay away from it all, help me raise our child."

"You're willing to forgive them, what if Darth _ himself was here, that bastard betrayed his friends, he and his empire nearly brought an end to our way of life."

"You've fallen down the same path!"

"In my opinion the _ have fallen!"

"It's over _, I have the high ground!"

Daylen bought his hands away from his head, screaming as his skin began to bubble. Flames swept over his body, and he fell to his knees in agony.

"You were my brother _."

"I HATE YOU!"

Daylen let out long, pained breaths as the flames disappeared. He patted his body, checking his skin for any burn marks. His clothes were still there, and there were no scars on his face, save for the one on his eye. He sunk slightly, and felt the ground beneath him. It was sand, and several suns shined in the sky.

"Well the force, is what gives a _ his power. It is an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us, it binds the galaxy together."

"There's nothing for me here now, I want to learn the ways of the force and become a _ like my father, and mother!"

"I feel, sadness, but, also hope," Daylen said.

"Hope can only exist in sadness," Mouse said.

"The galaxy, its bigger than we can begin to imagine isn't it?"

"My boy, the galaxy is much like the fade, there is no limit," a voice echoed through the air.

Suddenly, the sand, the very ground beneath Daylen's feet disappeared. He fell back, feeling himself go through water of some kind, then through the air, then through the water again. Daylen looked down, seeing the ground he was careening towards. Suddenly he stopped, his face inches from the ground. He touched it with his finger, then suddenly slammed back first. Mouse crawled out of a hole in his signature form, turning back to human form and laughing.

"Impressive fall, and an impressive rise," he said as he stood up.

"Why have you brought me here Flemeth?" Daylen demanded.

"To educate you, the force is real, the galaxy is bigger than you believe, why haven't you fallen because of this knowledge?" Flemeth asked, her voice echoing across the Fade.

"I never believed that the galaxy was small, nor do I doubt that the force is real. But I will not bow down and become enslaved by this knowledge, knowledge is supposed to set you free," Daylen explained.

"But it hasn't," a voice spoke, ahead of Daylen.

The ground shifted, becoming the halls of the tower. Ahead of Daylen, a mage appeared, his staff tapping against the ground with every step he took. His robes were grey and green, and his grey hair was bushy. He stopped in front of Daylen, forming a fireball in his hand.

"Keep your wits about you," said the form of Irving.

Ellana whispered to her Halla, urging her to run faster. She rode across the plains, the army of golems behind her. Then she saw it, the rebel army, the cult of Andraste. She drew her staff and released a fireball that exploded in the air.

"GOLEMS! GOLEMS INCOMING!" she yelled, riding around the army.

The apostates and cultists widened their eyes in shock over the news. Ellana rode again, making her way across the great plain, towards her own people and their mystical allies. Again she yelled, warning them of the incoming golems. From the skies, Leliana saw them too, bringing her dragon downwards, jumping into the Dalish and werewolf ranks.

"It's true, they're slow, but the golems are leading imperial reinforcements," she said.

She mounted the dragon again, and again confirmed Ellana's warnings to the cultist army. Flying to the city, she had her dragon electrocute the troopers on the city ramparts, before she caught sight of Loghain. He and his soldiers were pinned, using abandoned houses as cover, as imperial troopers fired at them. Landing her dragon on the imperials, Leliana slid off his tail and ran to the rebels.

"Golems from Orzammar are coming, they may split and head towards Highever and Amaranthine," she said.

Loghain walked away from the window. Removing his helmet and putting it on a table, where a map had been set up.

"Get to Alistair, get him to have his Frostback burn a trench across this area," the general ran his finger across the area on the map. "The trench has to be there before the enemy reinforcements have passed that point. You get to the relief forces and get them to this clearing, it overlooks where the golems might go if the trench does its job. ANORA! Where are the charges?"

"Here father," Anora said, lifting a bag onto the table.

"Careful, young lady, you need to get these to the relief forces, have them bombard those golems with every explosive in this bag and then get the hell out of there if they can. Then you go to Amaranthine and help Cousland take the Vigil," Loghain explained.

Leliana nodded her head, before running back to her dragon. She mounted the beast, taking off. Once she had flew around the city, she began scanning the streets for any sign of Alistair. She found him, toppling imperial barriers with the elves. When she was low enough, she jumped from the dragon, landing near Alistair. She drew her knives, slashing the throats of two troopers, before she ran to Alistair. He had his sabre raised, stopping as he saw Leliana.

"You need to be on your dragon now, get in the sky, follow this plan," she said.

Alistair looked at the map, immediately understanding the plan. Any hesitation he had was undermined by the knowledge of the golems. He deactivated his sabre and looked towards the elf ring leader, Tabris.

"Take this, lead our people forward until they meet with the templars," he said.

Tabris nodded her head, taking the sabre and igniting it, admiring the blade.

"Keep going, don't stop until we hit the main square, we need to take the markets," she rallied her fellow elves.

Alistair let out a sharp whistle, also concentrating on his dragon's blood. The Frostback swooped downwards, and Alistair took a hold of its leg. Side by side the dragon's flew, catching a glimpse of the red dragon form of Morrigan.

"By the maker," Alistair gasped, seeing the grand legion of golems.

Leliana and Alistair closed their eyes, trusting in the force, yet commanding it at the same time. Through it they connected with their beasts, and even Morrigan. Sparks ran across her scales, whilst fire welled in the bellies of the dragons. Morrigan flew forward, Leliana's dragon flew to the right, and Alistair's to the left. As they passed over the golems, they released powerful blasts of fire. Like beams they slammed into the ground, burning a line around the front edges of the legion, whilst Morrigan burnt a line through the middle.

"REFORM THE RANKS!" Branka yelled.

Alistair brought his dragon back around, releasing a blast into the ground, matching the line Loghain drew on the map. The golems could not climb over the trench, their forces were split and would have to walk on the path Loghain had predicted. But the dragons had also bought extra time for the relief forces. These relief forces, led by Aemon's brother, Teagan, were already on a hilltop. They included Ferelden soldiers and Ash warriors, but also volunteers like Lily. The young woman thought of Jowan as she adjusted her horse's reins.

"I hope your friend has not let you down beloved," she whispered.

The fade-Memories

(Dragon Age Inquisition OST-Battle for Haven)

Fire was blazing around him, and through him. The very area he stood in was shaped like the circle tower. The fade itself recreated the places he grew up in, and burnt them. All of it to taunt him, the copy of Irving continually firing spells and words of doubt at him. Mouse however looked on, grinning ear to ear as Daylen ran, ducked, and shielded himself with barriers. He did anything he could to defend himself against the copy, whose spells were just as powerful as the real Irving's used to be.

"You're leading your friends to their deaths Daylen, you must know that," 'Irving' said.

He tapped his staff against the ground, creating pillars that knocked Daylen into the air. Covering himself with rock armour, Daylen cushioned his fall, but still felt the sting of it. He got off the floor, rolling to side to dodge a fireball. The copy kept walking towards him, throwing blast and blast that Daylen absorbed with his barrier. He felt the sting of the magic even through the bubble. 'Irving' then released a blast of ice from his hand. Fire quickly blazed around Daylen's hands as he threw them forward. The blasts collided, Daylen pushing with both hands, his back bent and feet grinding against the floor. His teacher's copy however stayed in one place, keeping one hand raised.

"Never in all my years as first enchanter, did I ever see a mage of your potential for raw power," the copy stated, not even distracted by the flames.

Daylen quickly dived to the side, dodging the trail of ice left where he once stood. He quickly reached into his belt, uncorking two mana potions and downing them. Much like Irving used to, the demon shook his head in disappointment, but Daylen kept reminding himself that it wasn't Irving. The subtle form of the tranquil symbol burnt itself into the copy's forehead.

"I have nothing to feel guilty for, it was Uldred who had Irving made tranquil," Daylen said. "You also don't need to remind me of what Irving would be saying, I know what he would be saying. He believed in the towers, even through the atrocities, he believed that we had a purpose," he stood his ground, conjuring a barrier as the copy crashed lightning down on him.

"Our power has a purpose, that's what Irving believed. Even if I broke away from the tower, I know, without shred of doubt, that he would never have lost faith in me," he reiterated.

Darkness suddenly swept over the copy, altering the demon's form. He turned into the black armoured form of a Sith trooper. Removing a device from his belt, he threw it at Daylen's feet. In an instant, Daylen threw himself to the side in a reckless attempt to save himself. But the explosion from the thermal threw him across the dirt. Dirt, Daylen reminded himself, once again the Fade changed, he was in the forest.

"Your power has a purpose, to kill, just like mine," the Sith trooper spoke in a voice that wasn't Irving's.

The demon fired its conjured rifle, with every bit of skill the trooper had. Daylen rolled and jumped across the dirt, drawing on the arcane warrior arts. His speed increased, but he also 'ported' across the area. A lack of mana took its toll and Daylen was forced to run from another thermal detonator. Again he was thrown from his feet, this time rolling involuntarily across the grass.

"I killed whoever I was told to kill, rebels, innocents, I probably enjoyed it or probably didn't, you didn't know anything yet you took action."

Anger quickened the pace of Daylen's heart. It wasn't the accusations, it was the mockery of those people. He stretched his right arm out, holding the wrist with his other hand. Gathering his slowly recharged mana, he drew from it, but he didn't stop there. Most mages stopped at what their teachers had them practice, Daylen however was more like an apostate, with imagination. The mana appeared in front of him, taking on a shape, like a blanket fluttering in the wind.

"WHAT RIGHT DID YOU HAVE!" the copy yelled.

He fired his rifle, releasing a torrent of blaster fire. The red bolts bombarded the shield Daylen made. Six shots, then ten, before the shield broke. A bolt struck Daylen's shoulder, and a second one hit his outstretched palm. His shoulder pad burned, as had his glove and hand. In an instant, the trooper was flying forward, the fluttering of a cloak preceded his change. When his change was complete, he ignited a red light sabre, the sabre of Theron.

"Humanity built itself up from scavenging on our knowledge," the Theron copy snarled as he approached.

A mana sword formed in Daylen's hand, shorter than the kind most full Knight-Enchanters could make. He blocked the copy's sabre strike, his hands shaking as the more experienced swordsman tried to make him lose balance. Daylen barely managed to parry the follow up strike, when the copy pushed him with the force. Then he followed up again, swing the sabre and shattering Daylen's sword. Running back to avoid the thrust of Theron's sword, Daylen conjured another one and hit the dead acolyte across the face.

"Now," the demon snarled, hitting Daylen's weapon again and again.

With each strike, the light from the magic faded, becoming like a piece of glass in Daylen's hand.

"You're going to build your rebellion up from a mountain of bodies, the bodies of your enemies, and of your friends," he raised his voice with each statement, pushing Daylen back further and further.

"I know the risk I'm taking, I know the risk," the young mage spoke more to himself than the demon.

He was tired, sweat was running down his face and his hand had gone limp.

"It's not that I don't recognise the reality, of what I've set out to do," he huffed and puffed, each word a struggle. "I know that people are going to die, yet still I move forward, rejecting that idea, I'm going to try, to keep trying, to find the best way forward," but his eyes still remained determined.

(End Track)

(Fate/Stay Night-Emiya theme)

Theron ran forward again, swinging his sabre downwards. Daylen conjured another sword, this time it was the same size and length fully trained and appointed Knight-Enchanters used. He locked the blade with the sabre, sparks running across the floor, both their faces illuminated.

"You say this now, but what about the future? After so many battles, after so many fights, after you have led your friends and those you swore to protect to as many loses as gains, what will you do then? What will you become?" the demon asked, his face suddenly changing to Daylen's, his eyes instead yellow.

A red mana blade materialised in his hand, and he stabbed it into Daylen's leg. Then he threw Daylen over his shoulder, launching him a few feet away. The copy of Daylen smirked uncharacteristically. But that smirk shifted into horror as once again, with great difficulty, Daylen stood.

The demon had asked a question, and he provided an answer:

"A killer, a hypocrite, probably as far from being a hero as I can be, but I won't give up," he began to limp forward, summoning a sword, except this time it was a physical one.

"You stubborn, prideful fool," the demon's accusation put a smile on Mouse's face.

"I know, and I don't care, because it isn't a mistake," Daylen shot back.

"GO TO HELL!" the demon roared.

He summoned great blades, spears, and weapons of magic that were as hard as dragon scales. Then he threw them forward like bullets. Daylen side stepped one, but it took the skirt of his armour off. He deflected another with his sword, and stumbled to avoid another.

"If it takes me there, so be it, but I know that my dream..."

"JUST GIVE UP!" the demon yelled.

"ISN'T WRONG!"

With that great yell, Daylen shifted forward again and again. His skin became like a ghost, passing through the blade, his sword strikes like lightning. Even though his movements were heavy, and he had blood coming out of his nose and eyes, Daylen kept moving forward. Mouse grew, turning into a great bear. Impressed by Daylen's prideful determination, he pounced on the demon of doubt, tearing him apart. Daylen leant on his sword for support, ready to stand against Mouse's demonic form if necessary.

(End theme)

"Remember mage, keep your wits about you!"

Daylen suddenly opened his eyes, he wasn't in the fade anymore. A Mabari was licking his face, barking happily at him. Rolling onto his hands, he saw that his armour wasn't damaged, and his hand hadn't been burned. Also his mana potions were still intact. He stood up, seeing a storage chest had been placed in front of him.

"A little gift for when you wake up, don't worry it's not divine intervention, just a staff you can use."

"It will be interesting to see if you survive.

Flemeth, X."

Daylen slowly opened the chest and looked inside, the dog right by his side. It wasn't a staff, but what he could only call a sword handle. Taking the handle, he examined it, no buttons so it wasn't a light sabre. He could feel the lyrium in it though, and he concentrated out of curiosity. The dog barked in surprise, as fire, electricity and ice, all of the power Daylen had within him, came out of the blade, forming a subtle blade shape. This was supposed to be the weapon of an arcane warrior, a staff sword.

"Just hold on a little longer," he hoped for his friends. "I may not have figured out the best way to move forward, but I do know now, the best way to win."

Customised Shuttle 'Scoped'-Unknown space

Kona'Igna'Miles was one of the few aliens in a empire ruled by humans (in spite of it being founded by aliens). A Chiss, Igna's species were humanoid, blue skinned people with dark hair and red eyes. Scientists often theorised they were an off shot of migrating humans, their blue skin a result of the minerals present on Csilla. Igna sat in the piloting seat of the imperial shuttle, an area with lights dimmed so she could see better. The eyes of the Chiss would glow brighter when in the dark, and they saw much better in dimly lit areas.

Igna was fourteen years old, yet already had the appearance of a fully matured human girl. Her species typically matured faster than humans, not just physically, but mentally too. She was as smart and as capable of older imperial agents, and loyal to the idea of the empire. The agent/pilot remained silent, just like every other person on the ship. Behind her, sat in a row were Imperial commandoes, men and women of different species, all of them in black and red armour. They checked over their weapons, not looking at the Sith lord sitting across from them.

The hooded man didn't bother to ask Igna if she had engaged the cloaking device. She and his chosen troopers were all capable, and he trusted them to make creative, and reliable decisions. He felt the sudden shift in gravity, as the ship began to enter a planet's atmosphere. The Scoped began a slow descent into a world of dark plains and high mountaintops. On this world were also ruins of ancient societies, a graveyard of ships from Revan's order and older models from older worlds, the wreckage unrecognisable and any technology useless. Igna bought the shuttle down, folding the previously outstretched wings up to the third wing on the top of the ship. By the time the loading bay door was lowered, the soldiers were already walking down it, checking the area for any hostiles.

"Clear," one of the soldiers declared, but never lowered his rifle.

Igna walked with the hooded man, her own eyes scanning the area for traps. He however walked casually, no concern or fear of danger. Through the force he could detect what the non-force users couldn't, including hunters in the graveyard.

"Take the squad to the ruins, wait for me at the entrance," he said.

Igna nodded her head, relaying the information to the troops and moving ahead. Their master took a different path, straight into the graveyard.

"I know you are there, servants of Revan," he declared.

Four dark jedi emerged from their hiding places. One man and woman in grey and black robes, their faces painted red with hoods, and masks covering their mouths. A Twi'lek man wore a silver armoured chest plate over his robes, and held a collapsible double edged light sabre. Finally the fourth was an assassin, holding a short bladed sabre, his face covered by a red eyed breathing mask. The hooded man remained unthreatened as the red blades shot out of their handle. He remained ever still as a blue bladed light sabre appeared near his neck. Behind him, a force cloak faded, revealing a Cathar woman in blue clothes and brother leather armour.

"I was wondering where you were, hand of Revan," he said.

The Cathar woman grit her teeth together, despite the colour of her sabre, her eyes had the yellow tinge of someone touched by the dark side. Her wrinkled skin though wasn't a result of dark side degradation, but a long life, with time to study both aspects of the force.

"My name is Juhani," she said, before dragging the blade across his neck.

Next Episode 12: The battle for Ferelden part 4: Our purpose

An aged Juhani returns, hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. Next time Daylen, and the circle mages finally join the fight.