1

Some said that the Brecillian forests were haunted. Werewolves and spirits lived there, cabals of maleficarum, possessed sylvanwood, and of course, the Dalish elves, which was the most feared of all.

They came seeking the Dalish, and as soon as the group entered the forest, Ellyn had began to reconsider their decision. She changed course outside of Redcliffe after she recruited Zevran, hoping that one visibly Dalish Elf in their company might prevent them being shot full of arrows the moment they were spotted.

She had seen no sign of them, however. There were snarling sounds on the edges of their camp at night, and a mist that hung over their camp that covered everything in a thin film of moisture. Wending paths that ran into and over each other made navigation nigh impossible. Twice they were attacked by mad sylvanwood, rage demons in the Fade that crossed the veil only to possess trees, and thrice by blight wolves, though they should have been far North enough that the blight hadn't affected this land as of yet.

Ellyn wished they could have stayed in Denerim longer. She missed civilization, stone walls, baths, and the smell of flowers in the market.

As they walked the forest paths, she looked often at Wynne. She seemed as exhausted as Ellyn was. The roads resembled the raw Fade, and she grew more distrustful of what she saw by the day. If the trees could be possessed, she wondered if the spirits could possess here, not just mages.

It was a week into their waiting when she saw the white wolf. It stalked the edges of their camp in the night, moonlight gliding off its fur made it seem ethereal, its profile in shadow blended into the darkness. It sat patiently, beckoned to her, half-hidden in the trees.

Like a heroine in a fairytale, she followed the white wolf. Alone. Before long, she was completely lost but for the white streak that crisscrossed the gaps in the trees, until she came to a clearing with an enormous tree. Ellyn reached out a hand to touch it; its roots were gnarled and the size of other tree trunks, fossilized, the trunk immeasurable. As soon as she tried to map out the edges of it, it expanded. Her vision became dizzy and she had to refocus herself.

The white wolf sat over a gap in the roots, howled, and jumped in. Ellyn followed.

It was a long fall to the bottom. She landed tip-toe, on water. On water? There was a cavern under the roots. She searched the ceiling and saw a pinpoint of bright light enough to illuminate the underground lake. The white wolf sat on one of two islands, swishing its tail. Waiting.

Ellyn moved forward on the water, leaving ripples in her wake. It should have been odd, to walk on water, but right now it was the most natural thing in the world. The white wolf moved a few steps back at her approach, making room for her. Where it walked, flowers bloomed. A soft fragrance filled the air. She plucked a single white blossom with strange bow-like petals and tucked it into her robe. When she turned to face the wolf, it was ...

Not a wolf. A tree. No, a woman. Ellyn blinked rapidly, hoping to shake away the confusion. What was she looking at? A woman who was a tree and also a wolf. "Did I follow you here?"

The tree-woman-wolf stared at her with blank eyes and spoke in a voice not unlike Mythal's. "Welcome. I am the Lady of the Forest. This is my ... prison."

"Are we in the Fade?" Ellyn sat down on the grass next to the Lady. There were clovers here, soft pink velvety blossoms that tickled her palm as she brushed at them. If this was the Fade, it felt entirely too real.

"We are ... in the Beyond. It is what the elves call the Fade. It is one and the same ... but we have had centuries to build this part of it." The Lady pointed at the island across from them. "Look."

The opposite island was consumed by a large, gnarly oak with a vaguely human shape. Its roots were large and round, extending deep into the green murky water. There were red gashes in it, seeping a darkness not unlike blighted blood. A face was suggested in the way the bark overlaid upon itself, caught in a silent scream.

"What is that?" Ellyn's eyebrows knotted together in wonderment.

"The man who bound me here. I was hoping ... that you can help us."

"That," Ellyn paused for effect, and gave the Lady a look. "That is a tree."

"I am a wolf, who was not always a wolf. You are a goddess, a child, and a woman. We do not always look as our true nature dictates."

She examined the tree further. There was a shape in the trunk that looked like a man, but it was so closed away and warped it was hard to pick out the body from the wood. Like an abomination, she thought with a start, when everything that was mortal or human had been stripped away.

"He is beyond my help, Lady. Maybe in the beginning when it was only a sapling, but now ..." Ellyn trailed off, not wanting to continue with all we can do is put him out of his misery.

The Lady crossed her arms and bowed her head in sadness. Ellyn saw that her arms and legs were roots, extending into the water just as the old gnarled oak's did. They were both ill. She was tired of this prison and wished for death; his hatred was so deep-rooted he did not know any other way to live. So they sat here in the Fade, year in and year out for centuries, trapped.

"Find me." Ellyn said to the oak, hovering her hands slightly over the bark. "I will help you, if I can." Something glittered and she spied eyes like her own, a light hazel, showing just a hint of understanding.

Ellyn woke to the smell of that flower she picked in her dream. Searching her robe, she found nothing, and felt a little disappointment. It was a silly thought, of course. The Fade was a different realm, the only entity that was able to pass between that realm and this were spirits, and they only did so with mages as conduits.

"That smells pretty...and familiar." Leliana leaned in and sniffed her over breakfast. "My mother used to smell exactly like that."

"I dreamt of flowers last night, and now I smell like one." Ellyn pulled at the front of her mage robe, one small line of hooks undone. Zevran stared with one eyebrow up and obvious amusement, ignoring the scowls from Alistair who looked as though he was just daring the elf to do anything. "I tucked it into my robe, right here, and I know it's kind of dumb but I was half expecting it to still be here by the time I wake up."

"It's a flower called Andraste's Grace. It's white -"

"The petals look like bows and there's a bit of orange in the middle?"

"That's it. You saw it in your dream?" Leliana looked slightly take aback.

"Mage don't ... dream. We walk the Fade in our sleep." Ellyn explained when she saw that horrified look, "everyone walks the Fade in their sleep. Mages are just aware of it, that's all." She worried at a nail. "I have an idea. Fleur!"

The Mabari ran to her in a flurry of slobber and claws, then promptly sat right in front of her, to attention. It is said that Mabari resembled their owners after a while, and Fleur was nothing but proper. Ellyn stuck out her wrist and the dog looked at her and whined. "Smell this. I need to try to find out where it came from."

Fleur bounced in a circle around her, ran off to one edge of their camp, and barked. This way.

"Thanks, kitty," she slapped her thighs twice, and the dog returned, at her feet again. "We'll follow you out that way after we pick up the tents, okay?"

"You call your dog 'kitty'?" Zevran asked, nonplussed.

"I'm a cat person." Ellyn replied as if that explained everything.

Zevran slipped an arm around her waist and gave her a leery smile. "One would think that was a crime in Ferelden the way men here get so attached to their dogs, my dear Warden." Just as smoothly, he slipped away and went off to pack his tent.

Leliana walked by Alistair as he was strapping on his armour. She casually crouched down to fix one leather strap on his back that he had flipped twice. "If you don't do something, that Antivan is going to steal her from right under your nose."

"That man tried to kill her last week!" Alistair seethed. "How can she just ... trust him like that?"

"Probably the same way she trusts Sten and Morrigan," she shrugged and pointed at herself. "Or me."

"Well, she should grow a brain."

"Zevran is being charming, and you're being surly. I know who I'd choose." She winked. "That's all I'm saying." She left him to his packing.

Trekking into the forest with a dog leading them was dangerous business. Fleur did not believe in paths. If a path was made shorter by jumping down a four-foot cliff, she jumped.

The Dalish found them in a small clearing covered in wildflowers.

"Stop right there, Shemlen. You're surrounded." A voice called out from the woods beyond. When Alistair reached behind him for his sword, it bellowed. "We have a bow trained on every one of you. Don't even think about it."

Ellyn stepped forward out of their usual protective formation slowly with her hands up, staff firmly on her back, and glanced into the trees where the voice was coming from. Alistair thought they might just shoot her out of principle alone. They did say 'don't move.'

Instead, an elf dropped out of one of the trees, bow still raised, but with a strange look in her eyes as if she couldn't believe what she was looking at. "You are ..."

"Aneth ara. Your Keeper is looking for me." Ellyn was counting on the fact that the 'man' she spoke to in the Fade was their keeper. Hopefully he needed her help as much as she needed his. "I am a Grey Warden."

"You are the one our Keeper spoke of. Your companions are too well armed to come with us, however. We cannot risk so many shemlen in our camp. If you must meet our Keeper you will do so alone."

"You will not harm my companions?"

"The hunters will leave with you. We will take you to the Keeper."

"Ma nuvenin." Ellyn turned to her companions, "I will be back. If I don't..."

"You're just going to go with them? Alone?" Alistair was about to step forward and stop her when she put a hand up in front of him to stop him. "Can't I at at least come with you? You need a templar guard."

"The Dalish Keepers are mages, and they don't like templars. If it's dangerous, it is better to keep us separated, and if it's not, you have nothing to worry about."

With that, she disappeared into the woods. They had no choice but to sit and wait. Those who had knowledge of herbalism searched the clearing for useful plants, Leliana gathered fragrant flowers for a sachet, Sten and Fleur circled the perimeter to prevent more hunters from taking them unawares.

Alistair had nothing to do. He sat, polished his armour, and worried.

"She's ... quite a courageous woman. Surprising, even after she slaughtered all my associates, I did not expect her to just go to the Dalish on her own." Zevran prattled to an annoyed Alistair while he prepared some deathroot he found at the edge of the clearing. "There are some bloodcurdling tales about what the Dalish do to humans, you know."

"What sort of tales?" Alistair did not truly wish to know, but he was bored. "Are you just going to make me more worried?"

"Considering how many people she managed to kill in under five minutes, I'd be more inclined to worry about more Dalish in the trees shooting arrows at us." He smiled at Alistair. "Not that I wouldn't know they were there, of course."

"There were some books written by Brother Genitivi – we met him in Haven when we were after the ashes of Andraste – and he had some writings on the Dalish." Leliana wagged a finger for effect, "something about them trapping travellers and cannibalism and such. Nonsense, hopefully, They don't seem barbaric. Most of the tales are probably spread so that the humans will just stay away."

"You two are NOT helping." Alistair rubbed his temples. Never should have let that girl out of my sight.

"'Tis true that there are some tales of the Dalish that could chill you to the bone," Morrigan decided to chip in – torturing Alistair was a favourite hobby of hers, apparently. "Though I believe you two have them mixed up with Chasind tales. It's the Chasind who cannibalize travellers and drink out of their skulls. The Dalish are more likely to hang one upside down. In little pieces."

"That's it. We're going after her. It's been three hours already." Alistair picked up his pack. "We can't just wait here while she ... does whatever it is she does."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Zevran asked. "It is not likely for the Dalish to leave a trail."

Leliana looked up from her bundle of flowers and gave him a mysterious smile. "Oh, I'm sure they don't, but somebody did."

2

Zathrian was more human than she expected. She thought he was tall, from a distance, and up close she realized that it was his bearing. He carried himself with a kind of easy arrogance, a self-righteousness that was not unlike a templar's.

The Dalish clan eyed her suspiciously as she passed them with the hunters from the forest. There was a certain respect, not for humans, but for the staff she carried on her back. Mages were just as ostracized as elves were, for the most part. Elves had more freedom, if the truth was told. Templars did not go around hunting rogue elves.

"You are the one I saw." Zathrian nodded to the hunters, and they dispersed to their posts. "What is your business with me?"

Ellyn allowed Mythal to manifest for a split second, bringing a piece of the Fade with her, and just as quickly pushed her away. Zathrian's arrogant smirk dropped away in a flash. "You are..."

"I am as you are. Bound to a spirit."

"Bound to one of the Creators," he shook his head, baffled.

"Only an aspect of her." Ellyn kept her gaze steady and recited the words she was taught. "My name is Ellyn, I am a Grey Warden and I seek the aid of the Dalish against the Blight."

"A Grey Warden. We have been moving North to escape the effects of the Blight, but I'm sure you saw some of it yourself. There are blight wolves in the forest. I'm afraid, however, that we are in no position to help you. Our hunters are ... ill."

"I am a healer. May I take a look?"

"Come this way."

Cots were placed haphazardly in the temporary sick area. There were so many of them Ellyn didn't know where to start. Most of them were in various states of raving madness, heads lolled, arms and legs twitching, mouths opening and closing mumbled incoherently. She chose a man that was unconscious who seemed the least likely to attack.

Ellyn placed her hands over the man's chest and probed with mana. Nothing physically wrong here, no broken bones, no muscle breakage that hadn't already been healed. She tried detecting a disease. Nothing. Not poison either. She moved one hand upward to his head.

Tree-woman-wolf with the blank dark eyes and pale skin, spirit and beast, raged against the frail bars of humanity. She was there, snarling, biting, her eyes a blank stare, always, devouring this man's mind from the inside out. Ellyn staggered back, turned to Zathrian, then looked back at her patient.

"That is not an illness. That is ... possession." Zathrian's eyes were tightly in control, there was no madness. Only hate. Vengeance.

When she saw Cullen's eyes after the attack in the tower, she saw rage there she could cure. This was calculated, cold, eternal vengeance. A man who would sacrifice anything to get at the thing that ate his heart.

She had to try. Cullen needed to be convinced by Irving, Greagoir, and then held down by four templars before she was able to get inside his mind. This man had a whole tribe of elves to defend him, and if she wanted to try to cure him he would have to come willingly. "There is a curse on you. I wish to help you lift it."

"You would call it a curse? I have lived for hundreds of years, Mythal. I have reclaimed what other clans never could. Immortality." His eyes turned cold, and she knew coming here was a mistake.

Pride was always good at assuming whatever shape it wished.

Ellyn moved to pull the staff from her sling; an arrow whizzed by her arm and missed her by less than an inch. Zathrian's hand gripped her other wrist. She looked down at it. There was blood on his hand. She felt her entire body go still.

3

"Do Dalish tribes make a habit of living in ruins in the middle of haunted forests behind magical barriers?"

Zevran gave Alistair a look. That look. Alistair shuddered. "I did mention that my mother was Dalish but I was born in Antiva, did I not? In case you're going to ask again, let me also mention that she died in childbirth, so she didn't tell me anything about the Dalish either."

It took them four days to get this far. There was a rhyming tree who wanted an acorn, a mad hermit who wanted strange random things, and finally a magical tree branch given by the rhyming tree that opened the way to the forest. Alistair understood now why he made the mage lead all along; their adventure was just much too strange for a warrior to handle.

He was sure Ellyn could have done the same thing in one day or less. Ellyn. Damn it all, where was she? Fleur led them to the barrier, and they had to wander around until they found a way to get around it. Now that they came through, Fleur met a white wolf who took over her job of leading the group.

Morrigan chuckled behind him. "So, when we don't have our fearless leader, we get to be led around by canines? Alistair, your ineptitude never cease to amaze me."

"Shut up, Morrigan." She was absolutely correct. There was nothing he could say – he surprised himself with his lack of leadership. Ellyn consulted him sometimes, but most of the time she barged ahead with her decisions, and though their situation seemed completely impossible, she always managed to pull it off.

Alistair had no such magic. They ran into a cabal of maleficarum and had to kill them all, lost the way when they went back to the oak with the acorn, and when they finally had the tree branch that allowed them through the barrier, Alistair gave up on trying to find his way through the woods and just told Fleur to lead. At least the dog wasn't as likely to get lost.

Now a white wolf led them to these Tevinter ruins and promptly disappeared. He was left to lead again. So instead of charging ahead like the fearless leader he was not, he asked Leliana and Zevran to scout out the place. Delegation. Maybe he was getting the hang of leading after all.

While the rogues disarmed traps and scouted out the floor for an ambush, Alistair dug into his pack, checking his food supplies. Only enough cheese for one more day. No Ellyn. An entire week away from civilization – if they ever found their way out of here again. Things could not possibly have gotten any worse.

"Arm yourselves! There's a dragon ahead and it spotted me!" Came the voice of Zevran. Things just got worse. Alistair sighed and picked up his shield. "What's the plan, boss?"

"I go in there, get its attention and try not to get killed," Alistair said grimly, "and the rest of you fall on it with everything you've got."

"What kind of a plan is that? No traps? No positions?"

"If we don't get Ellyn back, get used to it!" Alistair ran at the gate that led to the dragon. It was a dragon, all right, but at least it wasn't a high dragon. Alistair raised his shield as the first blast of fire hit him straight on, and he silently thanked Ellyn for the forethought of buying a fire-resistant shield just before they left Denerim. He quickly circled to its back and slashed at its tail until it turned around. "Now!"

The air became electrified around Alistair as Morrigan unleashed the elements. Zevran jumped onto the dragon's back, daggers snaking between the scales, Leliana ran along one wall, hopping over debris and loosing arrows along the way.

By the time Sten and Fleur joined the frey, Zevran was sheathing his daggers, having sunk them into one dragon eye each. Alistair was only slightly bloodied by the claws along his greaves. "Nice."

"I have my uses, and if you would only allow me, I could show you my ... other uses."

"We are NOT having this conversation." Alistair crouched over the dragon's horde, picked out a bow and held it over his head. "New bow for you, Leliana."

Another floor, a couple of dozens of undead later – what was with undead and Tevinter ruins? Did they all practice blood magic? - they arrived in a high vaulted hall with tree roots running through them. The wolf was waiting.

Except it wasn't a wolf anymore, but a tree-wolf, and then a tree-woman-wolf. Alistair blinked rapidly, then turned to Wynne with his did I just see that look. He thought, again, of how much he missed having Ellyn. She wouldn't have even looked twice. Ellyn would have began negotiations with this magical thing without missing a beat.

Alistair found himself gaping at the magical thing that was tree, woman, and wolf, until it – she? - began to speak.

"Thank you for coming this far. I am the Lady of the Forest." Behind her stood werewolves. Werewolves! As in Dane and the werewolf. Beasts of legends. Alistair felt a slight moment of panic. Why wasn't anyone else panicking?

"I'm looking for someone, actually. A woman. Blonde hair, hazel eyes, really pretty, dressed in mage robes ... but I thought she was captured by the Dalish. Not you."

A werewolf jumped in front of her and snarled at him, breath so foul it nearly knocked him over when it spoke. It spoke. "She is our Lady and you will address her with respect!"

Ellyn would have stood there as if she was made of iron, and that she did not smell anything. She would calmly smile as if there was no werewolf in her face. "I apologize if I seem impolite, but her dog led us here and frankly, I'm at the end of my rope. She was captured by the Dalish and she hadn't come back. This ... this was our only lead."

"You are in the right place, mortal. I'm afraid her capture ... is partially my mistake."

She told of the dream she sent Ellyn, where the Lady hoped that whatever was left human in Zathrian might be convinced of ending the curse between them. A curse that made these werewolves, the same that infected his hunters; a curse that ran in his blood and kept him alive for hundreds of years. She told him of the humans who came to this wood centuries ago, who killed Zathrian's son and raped his daughter, who left her for dead. Zathrian used blood magic by a deal with a pride demon, bonded the wolf Witherfang to the very spirit of the Brecillian forest itself. Those humans fell prey to Witherfang and became the first werewolves.

These were their children. They paid the sins of their fathers over generations. The Lady herself had eventually emerged from the beast that was Witherfang, came to an understanding of being sentient, and tamed the beasts.

"You sent Ellyn after a pride demon?" Alistair was aghast. Their recent stint at the tower taught him that pride demons were dangerous. And huge.

"I was expecting Zathrian to treat her with respect, considering her ... station within the Elven Pantheon. I was mistaken. There was hope that he might be willing to break the curse if she was the one to speak to him, but he is now more spirit than man, and spirits ... do not forgive."

"What's done is done." Wynne spoke up behind him, "is there a way for us to get her back?"

"I know where the Dalish are. I will be willing to confront Zathrian with you and retrieve your companion. Perhaps when I confront him I can convince him to break the curse ... one last time."

"Right. We're going to travel to the Dalish camp with an army of werewolves and the Keeper's own nemesis, then we're going to expect to negotiate for my fellow Warden's release." Alistair grinded his teeth and kept thinking 'what would Ellyn do' but there was nothing there he could draw on. Ellyn would have done whatever was necessary if he was the one captured. "Lead on."

He had a feeling this could only end in tears.