They didn't delay packing up camp and setting out towards Lake Calenhad to seek out the Circle's assistance with Baldur's berserker state, and – more importantly – to recruit whomever they could into battle against the darkspawn. Baldur had lost sight of the big picture, so focused on one dragon that he'd forgotten there were much bigger issues at hand. They'd been picking off darkspawn during their travels, but the darkspawn's appearance was only a symptom of the Blight. What they really needed was to cut them off at the source. There was evil everywhere they went and it would only get worse the longer they delayed. The dragon in the Frostback Mountains was like a sore tooth, but even Baldur could admit there was no use obsessing over one tooth when the whole mouth was rotten. Except they did have to return sooner rather than later to find the Urn.

Baldur was able to keep up with the group after finally resting and eating again, but he suspected the way Zevran kept a relentless hold on his right hand along with Bastion nudging him along encouragingly from behind had more to do with his livelier pace. Still, they had to stop more frequently than Baldur liked so Zevran could change the bandages on his hand while Morrigan force more of her foul potion down his throat. He endured the treatment with as much begrudging stoicism as he could muster, but he reached his limit when Zevran implied they take a break after only half a day's walk so Baldur could nap.

"Absolutely not," Baldur snarled. He shook off Zevran's hand and gave him a warning glower that was the mildest expression his berserker would allow for the indignity.

He stalked several paces away before picking up a stone and hurling it at a tree trunk rather than bottling his anger as he normally would have. He'd been advised that he needed to have a less destructive outlet if he was going to last much longer, however, Zevran fucking him into unconsciousness just wasn't plausible during the day. Baldur found a branch the length of his arm and threw that next. He startled when Bastion yelped and bounded after the projectile with apparent ecstasy for the game Baldur had unwontedly initiated. He blew out a breath when Bastion returned the stick to him seconds later, but in the end decided to indulge him. Bastion was the reason Baldur hadn't become irreparably crippled, after all. He had alerted the others when Baldur passed out on top of the firepit, so as far as Baldur was concerned Bastion deserved to be a little spoiled for a job well done. He'd seen Zevran slip the dog dried strips of meat throughout the day, and even Morrigan had made Bastion's favorite treat when she thought no one was looking, as if they didn't know mabari crunch from a healing potion.

"So let me ask you something," Alistair said as he advanced on Zevran the instant he and Baldur were separated, not beating around the bush for even a second. "What are your intentions with him?"

Baldur was still in earshot of the pair, as was everyone else, but Alistair seemed uncaring of who might be listening. Baldur loosely gripped the stick Bastion had fetched for him in his good hand, but his attention was on the two men. He gave a soft command when Bastion nosed at him impatiently and whined. Bastion heeled at once, his tail nub swishing small arcs in the dirt as he waited with his keen eyes fixed on the stick.

"You speak of Baldur as if he were not present. He's just right over there, you know," Zevran said, gesturing with a hand in Baldur's direction. Alistair didn't look at Baldur, his hard stare fixed on the assassin.

"Don't dodge the question. I'm serious."

"Is this brotherly concern I detect...or something else? Perhaps you are concerned for me, yes?" Zevran nudged closer to Alistair with half-lidded eyes.

"I'm just asking what your intentions are. You did try to kill us all, remember?" Alistair snapped, his words quick and aggressive rather than succumbing to his usual fluster whenever Zevran flirted with him.

"And now I owe him a blood debt as he has spared my life. It has brought us...closer together."

Baldur could only see Zevran's face from where he stood, as Alistair's back was to him. He saw the line of Alistair's shoulders go rigid in response to the suggestive grin on Zevran's face that was more or less his default expression.

"Is that a smirk? Are you smirking at me?" Alistair demanded, crossing his arms over his chest and puffing himself up in what he probably thought was an intimidating way.

"I assure you, ser. I am not smirking," Zevran smirked. "No smirking here. No."

"Well, just watch yourself then. I'll be keeping an eye on you."

Baldur shook his head when Alistair stalked off, unable to keep from biting back a grin despite himself. Alistair didn't stand a chance against a trained killer if he ever had to duel for Baldur's honor, but Baldur appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. He tossed the stick one last time, not wanting Bastion to tire himself out before they reached the Circle, and came up to lean against Zevran's side in a silent display of support.

"I do believe Alistair thinks you are incapable of making an honest man out of me," Zevran said with a put upon sigh, resting his cheek against the crown of Baldur's head and settling a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Actually, he probably thinks you'll turn me into some kind of deviant who kills for fun and has sex in public places."

"Perish the thought! You are as wholesome as they come, my dear Warden."

"I fear for the future of Ferelden, if that's the case then," Baldur said without even a trace of irony.

Zevran threw his head back and laughed. He was still grinning when he turned Baldur and caught him up in a truly filthy kiss that very nearly devolved into the sort of depravity that Alistair feared the most.

Baldur wasn't sorry at all.


Due to Loghain's slander, they were more likely to be spit upon or outright attacked once people they encountered realized he and Alistair were Grey Wardens. Sure enough, upon entering Lake Calenhad, their group was set upon by defectors of the army. Baldur was angered by the wasteful deaths before he'd even drew his sword, but the skirmish was over quickly. Baldur grit his teeth and breathed out slowly through his nostrils, blood and battle stirring up the darkness within him even though Zevran had been increasingly creative in discovering ways to keep his berserker subdued. He didn't miss the way Zevran was scrutinizing him, the way they all were especially after Leliana and Alistair had been filled in on the gossip they'd missed while away from the campsite after Baldur's meltdown. There was an unexpected release of tension when everyone had been apprised of the cause of Baldur's sudden and violent change of temperament, which they were currently attempting to rectify.

They approached the docks that separated the small fishing town from the tower sitting like a dark beacon in the middle of the lake. The Circle of Magi was unapproachable except by ferry, which was currently being guarded by a young but stubborn-looking templar currently sporting a bruise on his cheek that no doubt matched the impression left behind by Alistair's fist.

"Oh hello. It's you again," the templar said with a haughty air when he spotted Alistair. He seemed smug for having stood his ground against an enraged Warden and would likely be even more stubborn in his refusal to allow them passage. Still, Baldur had to try, and he had little patience for a grunt's inflated ego.

"I'm a Grey Warden. I need to see the first enchanter."

"And I'm Carroll, the Queen of Antiva. Like I told the last guy: No entrance into the tower."

"Your superior won't like that you've given me trouble." Baldur crossed his arms over his chest and glared the templar, Carroll, down until the boy shifted uncomfortably and broke their staring contest first, expression gone mulish.

"You think Knight-Commander Greagoir would be upset with me for not letting you in?" Carroll scoffed, and then seemed to reconsider when Baldur's eyebrow rose dangerously. "Wait...actually, he would. Good point."

Baldur took note of Greagoir's name, suspecting he would need to win the Knight-Commander over if he had any shot of his plight being heard, much less even considered.

Failure was not an option.

"But there's too many of you to take across the lake. Some of you will have to stay behind and I'm only making one trip," Carroll said. He eyed Sten and Shale pointedly, who would no doubt sink them with their combined weights.

"I'm coming with you," Alistair spoke up at once, tone implacable.

"As am I," Leliana said, nearly on his heels.

"I suppose if things go southward with either the mages or templars you will need my skills to battle them," Morrigan said with dreary benevolence, making known what an inconvenience to her this was and how appreciative the group had better be for her generosity.

"And, as always, my blades-" Zevran lowered his voice to a seductive purr just for Baldur, "-and my heart, are yours to command."

"Thank you," Baldur said, touched at their unwavering loyalty even though he'd been nothing short of a tyrant lately. He knelt to scratch Bastion's ears before he addressed the towering grey pair.

"Should anything happen to us, go to Redcliffe and inform Bann Teagan of our situation," Baldur said after he stood and removed Brother Genitivi's journal and map from his pack, handing the leather bound book over to Sten. "Bastion knows the way to Redcliffe and the Frostback Mountains, so Bann Teagan can send a force to retrieve the Urn himself if..."

...If the mages are unable to fix him and Alistair became tasked with killing Baldur himself, Baldur didn't say.

"Am I to understand we are to take directions from a dog?" Shale said in complete indignation. "It'll have us chasing our own tails and rolling in filth."

Bastion growled and shook his head as if flinging off water, his spiked collar clinking with the movement.

"Bastion's incredibly smart. I would have never made it to Redcliffe after I broke my arm without him. He's saved my life more times than I can count," Alistair said, patting the dog fondly.

"You never said." Baldur accused and Alistair shrugged sheepishly. Baldur had no idea his journey had been so harrowing, and he cursed himself for putting Alistair and Bastion both in danger like that. The party should have gone with him until they found a healer to tend to him instead of leaving him to make an arduous journey alone while injured and with only one mabari as protection.

"Don't make that face," Alistair said, looking down at Baldur. "It was my idea, remember? Bastion and I are fine, and we made it in one piece. There wasn't anything else you could have done. We had to get the Urn."

"Which we didn't get!" Baldur shouted in frustration, his heart pounding in terror for what could have happened to Alistair and Bastion on his orders, and he would have never known until much too late that the pair never made it to Redcliffe.

"Do we really have time for this?" Morrigan asked impatiently. "The mutt's fine. Alistair's...well...functional at least."

"Hey!"

"So let's get going. You can yell at him for your precious hurt feelings later."

Baldur growled, pulling at his hair in frustration, but conceded the point with an angry grunt.

"May the Maker watch over you," Leliana said to the trio who would be staying behind. Bastion wagged his tail stub and barked once.

"Keep your words of the Maker," Sten said gruffly. "You will need whatever blessings you think your god is capable of for yourselves."

"How can you say that? Do your people believe in nothing?"

"We believe in discipline and order. Where is the wisdom in crying for a derelict god to save you? Believe in whatever you like: absent creators, or whimsical gods. Follow prophets, or ashkaari, or omens in the earth and sky. You do a disservice to yourself and others by waiting idly for divine intervention instead of taking action."

Leliana visibly gathered herself to protest, but Carroll hailed them impatiently from the boat that appeared much too small to handle the weight of their group, even with reduced numbers. Baldur was the last to board, his face gone ashen as he surveyed the endless black expanse of water. He hadn't quite reconciled the notion he would be traveling across an entire lake in what was essentially a wooden tub. Zevran seemed to recall Baldur's fear of water deeper than chest-level and held out a hand for him as Baldur wavered at the end of the dock, trying to bolster his courage when everyone else stared expectantly at him when he hesitated. He gripped Zevran's outstretched hand tightly and tried to look anywhere except at the water. Zevran gently guided him into the boat, allowing Baldur to cling to him and bury his face in his chest as the boat listed alarmingly. Alistair and Leliana moved to the opposite side to counterbalance their weight and the craft steadied itself, even though Baldur was shaken and flinched every time the boat rocked in the water, which was constantly.

"I would never allow you to drown," Zevran reminded him, speaking softly into Baldur's hair as the dwarf clutched him around the waist and muffled a moan of terror.

Alistair and Carroll took up the oars while Zevran and Baldur knelt in the middle of the boat, out of the way. Leliana stood comfortably at the stern with her balance unwavering. Baldur didn't look up once, wishing he could enjoy being held so closely by Zevran rather than putting all of his energy into not being sick over the both of them. The distance to the tower seemed never ending. The rhythmic splash of the oars in the water and gentle rocking should have eased some of Baldur's nerves, serving instead only to wind him up further.

As soon as the hull bumped against the shore, Baldur was the first off the boat, collapsing to his knees and sucking down great, gulping breaths as he dug his fingers gratefully into the sand. Baldur had never traveled using any means aside from his own two feet and wasn't looking forward to their return trip back.

"This one hasn't gotten his sea legs yet, huh?" Carroll scoffed as he tied up the boat and the others deboarded. "Thank the Maker he didn't sick up on the boat. Would've come out of my commission, for sure."

"He's used to traveling by dragonback," Zevran explained as he helped unload their packs and set them down before crouching next to Baldur in the sand, resting a comforting hand against the back of Baldur's neck. "Much faster than boat, but unfortunately our group just became too large for it to carry us all and we had to leave his dragon back in the mountains."

"And you expect me to believe that, do you?" Carroll snorted.

"Just take a look at his armor. Those are authentic drake scales. One of a kind. Who else aside from a Grey Warden could get close enough to a dragon to make armor out of one of them?"

Carroll squinted at Baldur's armor, suddenly appearing uncertain. "Right then... If you could just not mention my name to the Knight-Commander, I'd be ever so appreciative."

"Thank you for your service," Baldur gritted out after he allowed Zevran to help him to his feet, steadying himself against the elf's side with Zevran's arm around his waist. He doubted after his display Carroll was all that impressed with Grey Wardens despite Zevran's tale that Baldur rode around on a dragon. The falsehood was preferable to reality, Baldur had to admit.

The Circle of Magi was a dark tower that thrust up into the night sky, appearing as if its spire would puncture the moon itself. Baldur's group made their way into the entrance, wading through a tumult of templars that rushed about, paying them no mind. All of the templars wore full helmets that obscured their faces, impossible to differentiate one from the next, but soon he approached one man with his head bared. Baldur surmised this man was the Knight-Commander, as he was issuing orders to another man in armor. Baldur caught the tale end of their conversation, waiting to be noticed as he observed the barely restrained panic of the templars hurrying around them.

"...and I want two men stationed within sight of the doors at all times. Do not open the doors without my express consent. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ser."

"The doors are barred... Are they keeping people out or in?" Alistair muttered as an aside to Baldur, and the Commander turned towards them, his expression severe.

"We are dealing with a very delicate situation. You must leave, for your own safety."

There was no way Baldur was getting back on that boat again any time soon, and he would not be moved from his task. "No. The mages have an obligation to the Grey Wardens."

"I am weary of the Grey Wardens' ceaseless need for men to fight the darkspawn. You'll find no allies here. The templars can spare no men, and the mages are...indisposed. I shall speak plainly: The tower is no longer under our control. Abominations and demons stalk the tower's halls. The Circle is lost. The tower has fallen."

"How did this happen?" Baldur demanded, refusing to believe that all was lost just yet.

"We saw only demons, hunting templars and mages alike. I realized we could not defeat them and told my men to flee. I have sent word to Denerim, calling for the reinforcements and the Right of Annulment."

"The Right of Annulment?"

"The Right gives templars the authority to neutralize the mage Circle. Completely," Greagoir said.

"You can't do that! All of those innocent people will die in there!" Leliana cried.

"There is no alternative," Greagoir said, implacable. "Everything in the tower must be destroyed so it can be made safe again."

"The mages are not defenseless. Some must still live," Baldur protested.

"No one could have survived those monstrous creatures. It is too painful to hope for survivors and find...nothing."

"If you're so certain, why even wait for the Right of Annulment?" Morrigan asked. "Destroy the tower and be done with it then."

"Morrigan!" Leliana scolded, horrified.

"Only the grand cleric in Denerim can authorize the Annulment of this Circle and we must wait for reinforcements. If we enter the tower now, we will be massacred. I cannot order my men to their deaths. While the door holds, we wait for word back from Denerim."

Baldur felt aghast that the Knight-Commander was planning to destroy the entire tower without seeking out an alternative solution. So many people would die, and Baldur couldn't fathom making the kind of call that would lead to such an abhorrent outcome.

"If I help you deal with the Circle, will you lend me aid?" he asked, his expression growing hard with determination.

"If, by some miracle, you destroy the abominations, yes. The templars will join your army."

"We have an agreement then."

"A word of caution...once you cross that threshold, there is no turning back. The great doors must remain barred. I will open them for no one until I have proof that it is safe. I will only believe it is over if the first enchanter himself stands before me and tells me it is so. If Irving has fallen...then the Circle is lost, and must be destroyed."

"Let me make sure I understand," Zevran said affably. "Even if we defeat every last abomination, yet we discover the first enchanter has been killed anyway, you will still keep us trapped within the tower and destroy it with all of us inside?"

"Yes."

"I can't imagine how any of that could possibly go wrong. It appears to be a sound plan to me," Zevran said to Baldur with a too-bright grin, and Baldur knew his lover was already plotting ways to get Baldur right back on Carroll's boat even if he had to drug him and tie him up again to do so.

"There's no need for all of us to be trapped inside," Baldur said, addressing the group while the Knight-Commander awaited his answer. "If this does go belly up, I need you all to delay the templars for as long as possible and, worst case scenario, go to Redcliffe with the others to alert Bann Teagan where to locate the Urn and hope they can retrieve the ashes for the Arl."

"Who stays and who goes?" Alistair asked nervously. "You're still...not well, but if there are any healers left to be found here they are all still trapped inside."

Baldur bit his lip. Ideally he'd want as many of the others with him as possible, but risking everyone was dangerous and impractical. "I will leave that for each of you to decide, but decide quickly. I am going into the tower. If anyone can help me, help us, it would be the first enchanter, and I can't allow all those people to die if there's anything I can do about it."

"If only you could be selfish like normal men," Zevran sighed, shaking his head. "I am with you, always."

"We've come too far," Leliana said, raising her chin staunchly. "I will not turn back now."

"Nor I," Alistair agreed.

Morrigan curled her lip but appeared unwilling to be left behind in the hands of the Knight-Commander himself, especially since it was her kind - wild mages - that templars hunted relentlessly.

"Open the doors," Baldur commanded. If the Right of Annulment was already set into motion, then every minute counted.

"May Andraste lend you her courage," Greagoir said with an air of solemnity as he led the group to the sealed entryway. He likely expected the company to die in the effort, but no doubt hoped they would take out a few of the demons first at least.

The darkspawn were getting more powerful and numerous by the day. There would be no help from the mages unless Baldur helped clear the tower so they could pull together their strength and numbers. He knew nothing about magic except that all of the tower's resources were centralized in this one location. If that knowledge was destroyed too, the remaining mages outside of the Circle would be of no help to anyone without resources and would likely be hunted or even killed by the templars without any Circle to contain them. Whether the Circle was saved or fell had far-reaching effects that Baldur couldn't even begin to anticipate, but saving people and killing evil things was what he did.

The heavy iron doors closed behind them with an ominous clang.


Broken furniture and broken bodies lay strewn all around, the floor slick with blood; the Knight-Commander had not been exaggerating. There had been a massacre, and they would only find more chaos the further in they went, but going back was not an option. Baldur smelled ozone from discharged magics and the cloying odor of spilled blood and singed flesh, but detected no scent of decay yet, so the attack had been recent.

"Look for any survivors who might know where the first enchanter might be. The sooner we find him, the sooner we can all get out of here and put a stop to the Annulment," Baldur ordered.

They didn't stray too far out of each other's line of sight or hearing. The entire ground level was silent as death aside from their own footsteps and the clang of armor. They cleared the area quickly and picked up items of use along the way. Each of his teammates shook their heads in a negative when nothing living was located, although they did find several stocks of potions and poultices they would likely need as they proceeded up the tower. A thick tome with an intricate crest on the cover zapped Baldur when he tried to pick it up, and he was cautious about what he touched afterward especially since one of his hands was already useless. When they gathered together again, Baldur led the group towards a closed door with a faint blue glow spilling from around the edges. He pushed open the door cautiously and was greeted by the sight of a mage, an older woman with silver hair who moved like a woman twenty years younger, as she swung her staff and blasted a wave of magic at a rage demon. The demon writhed in wordless fury and clawed at the air as it sunk into the ground. Baldur braced himself and surveyed the chamber full of several other mages and small children, knowing this particular enemy had the habit of disappearing and reappearing right behind him at the worst possible moment.

The mage seemed confident the demon had been vanquished, and after several seconds when it failed to resurface, Baldur finally relaxed his guard and signaled to the others to enter the room. The company drew the attention of the mage, who turned her staff upon them.

"Come no further!" the mage demanded, and Baldur slowed warily, showing his palms to signal he meant no harm. "Grey Warden or no, I will strike you down where you stand!"

This mage seemed to know who, or at least what, he was, to Baldur's surprise. He cast back in his mind, trying to recall if they'd met before, but Baldur had met so many people in his travels he certainly couldn't be expected to remember them all.

"Do I know you?" Baldur asked, disliking to show ignorance but unable to avoid it in this particular case.

"I am Wynne, a mage of the Circle. We met only briefly in Ostagar, before that terrible battle. I was relieved when I found out that both you and one other Grey Warden had survived, but why are you here now? The templars would not let just anyone inside."

"The Knight-Commander sent word to Denerim to enact the Right of Annulment. We're here to find the first enchanter in an attempt to save the Circle and everyone inside from being destroyed."

"So Greagoir thinks the Circle is beyond hope. He probably assumes we are all dead." Wynne's face fell. "They abandoned us to our fate, but even trapped as we are, we have survived. If they invoke the Right, however, we will not be able to stand against them."

"What happened here?"

"Let it suffice to say that we had something of a revolt on our hands, led by a mage named Uldred. When he returned from the battle at Ostagar, he tried to take over the Circle. As you can see, it didn't turn out as he had planned. I don't know what became of Uldred, but I am certain all this is his doing. I will not lose the Circle to one man's pride and stupidity."

Baldur didn't recognize the name Uldred either. He'd been in something of a daze those first few weeks after surviving the Deep Roads. He'd spent the journey from the mountain tunnels to Ostagar with Duncan trying to overcome the crushing weight of his losses when he hadn't been fighting for his life. He'd been on the surface before on his army campaigns, but always with the knowledge that he could return home at the end of each mission. The people he met were just a blur of unfamiliar faces in Ostagar and Baldur recalled that he'd gotten a crick in his neck from all the time spent looking up to address so many humans. He'd felt like the only dwarf left in the world.

"What do you intend to do?" Baldur asked Wynne, looking towards the barrier where the blue glow was originating from and Wynne followed his gaze.

"I erected a barrier over the door leading to the rest of the tower, so nothing from inside could attack the children. You will not be able to enter the tower as long as the barrier holds, but I will dispel it if you join with me to save this Circle."

"I will help you," Baldur said. He heard someone sigh and mutter "of course you will" behind him, but ignored them. "Greagoir will only accept that the tower is safe if the first enchanter says so."

"Then our path is laid out before us. We must save Irving."

Baldur looked towards the children who were huddled together in the middle of a cluster of mages. "Will the children be safe here?"

"Petra and Kinnon will watch them. If we slay all the fiends we encounter on our way, none will get by to threaten the children."

"Wynne...are you sure you're all right? You were so badly hurt earlier. Maybe I should come along," a younger woman at Wynne's side said worriedly.

"The others need your protection more, Petra. I will be all right," Wynne soothed.

Baldur's company had been watching his and Wynne exchange wordlessly, but finally Morrigan could no longer remain silent, her tone cutting through the conversation with scathing derision.

"You want us to assist this preachy schoolmistress? To rescue these pathetic excuses for mages? They allow themselves to be corralled like cattle, mindless. Now their masters have chosen death for them and I say let them have it."

"How can you say that?" Baldur demanded. "There are children. What has the Circle ever done to you that you would just leave them to die?"

"Look how they live, servants of the Chantry. They lack respect for themselves and their own power. Why should I respect them?"

"Everyone deserves respect. Even cruel people like you."

"This is a fool's gambit."

"Then you don't have to come with us. Stay here...or don't. I can't force you to do anything."

Morrigan bristled with anger, her skin fairly crackling with energy. "Fine," she sneered. "Don't expect me to pull you out of the fire again when a demon possesses one of you this time."

They needed all the help they could get, and their team would take a blow with the loss of Morrigan in this venture, but her hatred of Circle mages was very present and Baldur had no patience for her particular brand of vitriol. As it was, he was barely hanging onto his fury by a thread. Baldur would be lost to his berserker if they didn't find the first enchanter, and then he would be help to no one.

"I will stay behind and help protect the children," Zevran said unexpectedly.

"Zevran?" Baldur whirled his head around to look at him in alarm, but Zevran only shrugged.

"What can I say. I have a soft spot for children, and I know how you worry. They did not ask to be trapped here and face either torture and death from an abomination, or to be destroyed along with the tower once the templars receive their orders. I know you are more than capable of taking care of yourself and the others, mi amor. But even so, please be careful." Zevran's hand cupped Baldur's cheek and he bowed gracefully to rest their foreheads together for a long moment, eyes closed as they just breathed.

"You too," Baldur murmured, his voice rough with emotion and gratitude.

Not for the first time, Baldur wished he was capable of splitting himself in two. He was torn between his desire to help in any capacity that he could, however menial, and his vows as a Grey Warden. There was no one else he would entrust to watch over the children and ensure Morrigan didn't do anything heinous in his absence. He needed to find Irving, who would ultimately be the deciding factor on whether they lived or died - including Zevran and the children. This was the first time Zevran wouldn't be there to fight at his side since they met and the thought terrified him even though he knew Zevran was exceptionally proficient at taking care of himself as well.

He brushed a kiss over Zevran's lips and ignored the shocked gazes of the mages around them. He knew how absurd he and Zevran looked together, but he didn't care one whit about what anyone else thought. Zevran stroked his thumb against Baldur's cheek before slowly pulling away with a deep sigh.

"Make them sorry they ever crawled out of the Void," he ordered with a wicked smirk and a sharp smack to Baldur's rear, which made the dwarf jump with bitten-off yelp.

"I will get you back for that later!" Baldur threatened, grinning despite himself and the seriousness of the situation. He felt an hourglass tip over in his mind to start an invisible countdown until the templars received their Order and took action whether the group succeeded or not.

"That is what I'm counting on."

As Alistair, Leliana, and Wynne prepared themselves to enter the barrier Baldur spoke with the mage, Kinnon, who would be left behind to watch over the children along with Zevran. His lover would also be keeping an eye on Morrigan for him since she was just as trapped as the rest of them until they returned with Irving, and Baldur hoped she had sense enough not to interfere with the other mages.

"I'm glad to see some Grey Wardens have survived. I thought Loghain had them all slaughtered at Ostagar," Kinnon said when Baldur approached. Baldur was surprised to hear mention of Ostagar that didn't lay blame at the Grey Warden's feet.

"How do you know about Ostagar?"

"Wynne was there. She saw everything. Uldred persuaded the Circle to join with Loghain. Wynne came back to tell the truth about Loghain's deception. But why speak of things past? Be careful in there, and stay safe."

Baldur felt unexpected relief to finally find supporters on their side, for all the good it would do if the templars finished Loghain's work and he and Alistair were both killed anyway.

"Look after Wynne, will you?" Petra said, drawing Baldur aside when he ventured over to inspect the area near Wynne's barrier. "I don't know if she's up to this... Especially not after... I just worry."

"Not after what?" Baldur said with no small amount of concern.

"I was on my way down to the library when I heard screaming, and a demon came around the corner. Its eyes were afire with evil... I was certain it was my death come upon me. I think I screamed, I was so afraid. And then Wynne was there, in front of me, shielding me. It was light and fire, blood and chaos... When it was over, the demon was dead but Wynne wasn't moving either. I was so afraid she was...gone."

"She seems pretty alive to me."

"When I moved to help her, she stirred and coughed. I don't know what I would have done if she had died...for me."

"I'm glad she did survive," Baldur said, especially since Wynne's presence would help bolster the gap made from Zevran and Morrigan's absence, he hoped.

"Just look after her, all right? She might be completely fine, but then again, maybe she didn't come away from that totally unharmed."

"Don't worry, she'll be safe with me," Baldur promised. He scratched absently at the bandages of his left hand as he conferred with Petra, who was obviously terrified out of her wits, but trying to hold it together for the children's sake. He'd gotten sand within the wrappings after he'd prostrated himself across the ground after disembarking the boat his group traveled the lake across, and the sand was irritating his burns further.

"You should have Wynne take a look at that," Petra suggested, nodding at his hand. "She's an incredibly proficient healer and I can assume with whatever you will face behind that barrier you don't want an injury to impair you in any way."

"I believe I shall," Baldur said, seeing the wisdom in Petra's words rather than forcing himself to fight through the pain of his essentially useless left hand. He didn't need the hand exactly, since he'd be using his shield strapped to his forearm on that side, but he would fight better without the distraction.

"Are you ready to go?" Wynne asked when Baldur approached.

"I am, but I was wondering if I could ask you a favor?"

"If it is within my means to grant it, then I will do so. But be quick. We do not have much time."

"I burned my hand the other day..." Baldur started sheepishly as he lifted his left hand for Wynne to inspect, hoping that she didn't ask how he came by the injury.

"I see," Wynne said. She took Baldur's hand gently between her own and he watched as she closed her eyes and a soothing blue-green glow enveloped his hand.

The stinging pain eased at once like a cool balm, and Wynne peeled away the bandages to revealed the skin of his hand, healthy and new. Baldur sagged with relief as his fingers curled around Wynne's in thanks, moving them without pain or stiffness just that easily. He wanted to ask her if she could fix his mind as well, but he suspected his issue would take more time to address than they had available to them, and they'd already delayed enough. He hoped he could hold on for a little while longer, especially when Zevran had alternately forced food, potions, and his own company on Baldur during their walk to Lake Calenhad. Alistair would be with him to make sure Baldur was kept in check, and he would consult Wynne if he feared he deteriorated enough to become a liability again. Mostly he was embarrassed for his lack of control, and stubborn, especially when he was feeling much better than he had been days ago. He spared a tiny amount of relief that Zevran wouldn't be there to harass Baldur into bringing the subject up with Wynne just yet.

Baldur gathered his group, and as soon as the barrier was dismantled he, Leliana, Alistair, and Wynne were set upon by gruesome abominations that towered heads and shoulders above him. Baldur easily ducked the swing of their grasping claws and assailed them with his sword, his body moving automatically to adjust his position according to the sound of Wynne's magic attacks over his shoulder so he didn't accidently catch himself in the crossfire. Wynne's spells didn't come close to hitting him once, though, unlike Morrigan whose spells he constantly had to duck lest he take the impact of one gone awry. In fact, after their first few battles where the group effectively wiped out all of the demons they came across, Wynne lifted her hands and staff to send a rejuvenating light washing over them all that stole the lingering fatigue and pain from Baldur's very bones.

"Thank you," he said fervently, more than a little in awe of Wynne's abilities.

"You're welcome."

She nodded at him with a gentle smile before her expression went focused with determination as they ran towards the next cluster of monsters, keeping up with the rest of them easily despite her age and Petra's concern about Wynne's earlier injury. His berserker seemed to quail in Wynne's presence. She was unerringly calm despite their predicament and seemed confident in her abilities, which had already helped Baldur immensely.

The deeper they went into the tower, the more bodies and abominations they faced, and it wasn't until they reached what appeared to be the remains of a storage area they encountered their first living person.

"Please refrain from going into the stockroom. It is a mess and I have not been able to get it into a state fit to be seen," the man said mildly. He was in robes and had a brand on his forehead in the shape of a sunburst. His voice inflectionless as he gazed at them without even a flicker of reaction at seeing his rescuers. Baldur could only assume the man was in shock, surrounded as he was by corpses and destruction.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was trying to tidy up, but there was little I could do."

"Don't you want to get out of here?"

I tried to leave when things got quiet. That was when I encountered the barrier. Finding no other way out, I returned to work."

"That's...some dedication," Alistair said dubiously, and then muttered, "or insanity..."

"Owain, you should have said something!" Wynne scolded. "I would have opened the door for you."

"The stockroom is familiar. I prefer to be here," Owain said blandly.

"How can you be so calm?" Baldur demanded, unnerved by the man's detached mannerism.

"He is one of the Tranquil. The Tranquil do not have emotions," Wynne explained.

"I would prefer not to die. I would prefer it if the tower returned to the way it was," Owain said. It appeared that even though he was without emotion, he was still capable of at least some sort of opinion regarding their current predicament. "Perhaps Niall will succeed and save us all. He came here with several others and took the Litany of Andralla."

"But that protects from mind domination," Wynne said. "Is blood magic at work here?"

"I do not know."

"Blood magic...I was afraid of this."

"How is blood magic worse?" Baldur asked. Dwarves were incapable of using magic, so he was almost completely clueless about the differing forms magic could take, aside from Morrigan's input on the subject. He could never tell the truth from fiction with her, but Alistair seemed convinced she could turn them all into frogs on a whim.

"Blood magic could control us, too. Who knows what could happen then? We should find Niall. The Litany will give us a fighting chance against any blood mages we encounter."

"I wish you luck," Owain intoned. "Perhaps this will be over soon and things will return to the way they once were. Goodbye."

They left the area after Owain's abrupt dismissal as he left to return to his duties in the stockroom, but it was as if their conversation had signaled the other mages to their location. Baldur perked up at the sound of non-demonic voices a few rooms down, but Wynne made a warning exclamation behind him. When he turned back around it was only to duck a blast hurtling towards him, which Wynne deflected and returned with a volley of her own.

The mages were familiar in their robes and staffs, except the whites of their eyes were red from broken blood vessels and crimson swirls of mist from gaping wounds on their palms or wrists surrounded them, pulsing with light that forewarned another attack.

Blood mages.

"Why are they fighting us?" Baldur called to Wynne as he struck out with his shield arm and knocked a man back. He would have thought the Circle's mages would want to escape or help fight off the abominations too.

"Blood mages have been tainted by evil forces and employ dark rites to access more powerful magic. Abominations are created when the mages give themselves over to demons."

"Great, evil mages. Just what we need," Alistair said as he felled one of the mages with his longsword.

The woman next to her fallen companion gave Alistair a gruesome smile and moved her hands in the air over the dead man. His body suddenly twitched before rising into the air, suspended by her magic. When she released him, the corpse surged toward Alistair, who gave a shout of alarm and blocked reflexively with his shield as he stumbled backward. One of Leliana's arrows struck right through the corpse's eye, but the man didn't even flinch, staggering with his hands grasping toward Alistair. Baldur moved quickly, ignoring the animated body and going straight for the mage controlling it. He leapt off an overturned crate with his sword raised above him and lopped off her head on the downswing. Both she and the corpse collapsed at once, but it would only be a matter of time before one of the other mages reanimated one or both of the deceased mages' bodies.

"This is so creepy," Alistair complained.

Wynne and Leliana helped them take out the rest of the tainted mages before any of them could raise the undead against them, but Baldur was thoroughly disturbed by the display. Between the Tranquil and the blood mages, he didn't know which one bothered him more, even though Owain seemed harmless enough, for the most part. He was starting to understand Morrigan's aversion to the Circle, but judging from Wynne's despair the blood mages were just as unexpected as abominations appearing within the tower, and not the norm.

Baldur saw one of the mages who'd been struck down by his shield attempt to crawl away, and he approached her with grim purpose. Her eyes widened and she threw a hand in front of her face, pleading with him for mercy.

"Please, please don't kill me!"

"The people you killed didn't want to die either," Baldur snarled, anger simmering just beneath the surface. Wynne's calming aura could only go so far, and fighting real flesh-and-blood humans seemed to stir up his berserker state far more quickly than demons did. He suspected the reason had something to do with his guilt and resentment for having to kill people when his efforts should have been directed solely towards defeating darkspawn. He was trying to save these people from the evils of the Blight, not their own personal darkness.

"I know I have no right to ask for mercy, but I didn't mean for this death and destruction. We were just trying to free ourselves." The woman, at least, seemed to be in control of her own rational mind and didn't appear to be possessed, but he didn't let go of his sword just in case. "Uldred told us that the Circle would support Loghain and Loghain would help us be free of the Chantry," she implored him. "You don't know what it was like. The templars were watching, always watching..."

"What you've done will make things harder for future mages," Wynne interjected.

"We thought...someone always has to take the first step. Force a change, no matter the cost."

"Nothing is worth what you've done to this place."

"And now Uldred's gone mad, and we are doomed to die at the hands of those who seek to right our wrongs," the mage said despondently.

"And all you do is wallow in self-pity." Baldur couldn't forget that one of her fellow mages manipulated the corpse of one of their fallen members to fight them even after death took him and felt little sympathy for her since she would have likely done the same if given sufficient opportunity.

"What else can I do? I'm trapped here," she said, defeated.

Baldur could kill her, easily. He didn't know if one became a blood mage they would be able to go back or if they would forever carry the taint of their misdeeds. Which...he was infected with darkspawn blood himself, so what made him any different? He could still be merciful despite his rage, despite the side effects from the Grey Warden ritual and the barely-controlled bloodlust from his berserker. His sword hand trembled around the hilt and Baldur gritted his teeth. He wasn't a monster yet, but he was hardly better than these mages who embraced their inner darkness, just as he had.

"I will not kill you, but I will not help you escape," Baldur said finally, turning from the sight of the woman prostrate on the ground, reminding him so much of someone else he had spared in her same position not too long ago.

"Thank you. The Maker will surely turn His eyes on you for your mercy!"

Baldur doubted that very much.

He left the woman to her fate, but he didn't dispense the same sort of leniency towards any other blood mages they came across who attacked them first. He found one man who'd holed himself up in a closet, neither Tranquil nor possessed by blood magic, but seemed to prefer his tiny hiding spot to attempting to escape. Baldur didn't press the issue. There was only so far the man would be able to go once he reached the doors Greagoir refused to open for anyone other than the first enchanter himself anyway. Their party moved on, falling into the rhythm of fighting and running without much room for any other thoughts except survival.

Baldur stopped short as he entered a chamber and was greeted by the sight of a demon holding a templar in its thrall. He had never seen this particular demon in its true form, but the familiarity of its voice froze his blood, bringing him instantly back into Wilhelm's cellar in Honnleath.

"Everything is just as you wanted, my knight. Our love and our family is more than you hoped for," the desire demon purred as the templar gazed down at it adoringly. The demon had the body of an incredibly voluptuous woman rather than a cat this time, its skin a pale shade of lavender with chains of gold drawing attention to its alluringly nude shape rather than as any sort of true covering. Curling horns sprouted from its smooth skull, demonic fire replacing hair. A whip-like tail grew from the demon's lower back and swayed with the demon's movements, framing long, shapely legs and pert buttocks.

"Unhand him, demon!" Baldur shouted, coming back to his senses after shaking off his unease and unwanted pulse of lust at the sight of the demon's physical, inhuman beauty.

"Do you hear something, love?" the templar asked in a dazed tone, unable to tear his eyes away from the demon who smiled up at him and touched his chest.

"It is nothing, my darling. Just the door. I will get it. The children have finished supper. Tuck them into bed while I see who it is."

"Don't be long, the children will want to kiss you goodnight."

"I will be but a moment, my pet."

The templar was apparently unable to see the unnatural features of the creature or the fact he was standing in a stone room littered with rubble and scorch marks on the wall and not in a cozy home with his wife and children. The demon turned away from the templar at last and its face contorted in a snarl at Baldur's interruption, its black eyes glaring darkly at him. "You are intruding upon a loving, intimate moment and I dislike disruptions."

"There's nothing loving or intimate going on here."

"I have given him what he always wanted," the demon protested with a seductive pout as it caressed one of its full breasts with a claw-tipped hand. "Where is the harm in that?"

"You're deceiving him. I would consider that harmful," Baldur said.

"All emotion is intangible. You cannot see it, cannot grasp it."

"But it is normally caused by something real," Wynne countered. "Real events, real people. What you've done to him is...is abhorrent."

"I saw his loneliness and longing for a family that loved him," the demon said, its voice raising in what sounded like true anger on the templar's behalf.

"She is feeding off his innermost desires and taking away his will. This is unholy," Leliana said to Baldur as if she could sense his doubt.

"No one else would have known his heart," the demon implored of him. "He did not know it himself."

"Do you think you're doing a good thing?"

"We are partners. I give him what no one else can, and through him, I experience what it is to be mortal."

"He deserves to be free from you, to find his own happiness," Baldur said, but he sounded uncertain even to himself. All he had seen since entering the Circle was death and destruction with very little hope for escape, and perhaps the demon's vision was an escape of sorts, if only for this one templar. Baldur had heard a similar sentiment from the demon in Honnleath after it had possessed Amalia, though, wanting to know freedom after being trapped for years. He told himself this time he would not falter... however, he found the demon's logic hard to refute when it continued.

"What is happiness? He has gone through life empty, resentful of his vows. You would return him to this?" the demon said, gesturing to the ruin around them. "I give him the happiness no one else can, and he sustains me in return. I want nothing from you. I have what I need. All I ask is that you leave us alone."

The demon turned back to the templar, but not before Baldur caught the look of longing on its face that was just as desperate as the templar's.

"What will become of you if I leave you?" Baldur said quietly, his chest aching at the expression of adoration that softened the templar's rough features as he looked upon his 'wife'.

"Perhaps we will escape. Perhaps we will not."

Relationships were a give and take in any circumstance, and Mahal knew he and Zevran didn't have the healthiest one in the world for him to judge someone else's. Baldur rather thought he would prefer the lie himself to this nightmare of reality he had found himself in, but he had responsibilities to the remaining survivors, to his own people who were just as trapped as the desire demon and would die if he didn't find a way out.

"You are too dangerous to let live," Baldur said at last, wanting badly for the demon to convince him otherwise so he wouldn't be the cause of taking away the man's happiness, illusion or not.

"Then you leave me no choice," the demon said just as reluctantly. At once its tone changed from a throaty purr to something high and panicked as it beseeched the enchanted templar. "Help! There are bandits at the door! They are going to murder the children!"

The templar's features contorted in rage and he yelled as he drew his sword, "They will not get past me!"

Baldur cursed and went immediately after the demon, dodging the templar's infuriated strikes. The man was entirely deaf to anything Baldur tried shouting at him and Baldur had the jarring experience of being on the other end of another's berserker rage. There was no reasoning with the man, his anger all-consuming as he fought to protect his illusionary family.

He fought to kill.

Baldur slammed into the demon with his shield, but it hovered in the air instead of losing its feet beneath it. He followed up with a quick strike with Aodr while Alistair hacked at the demon with his own sword. It screamed its pain and fury as it engulfed them in flame. Baldur was starkly grateful for Wade's armor as he smoldered, slashing at the demon until it gave a final, soul-shaking scream and fell. Baldur had hoped the spell would be broken upon its death, but the templar gave a wounded bellow and swung at Baldur's face, nearly knocking his head from his shoulders.

Leliana caught the templar in the back with arrow after arrow, but the man seemed to feel no pain and refused to flag as he avenged his murdered family. Wynne struck him with a powerful bolt of energy and the man's spine arched as he writhed in pain, baring his teeth as he kept coming at them. Baldur grit his own teeth against a cry of frustration when Alistair's sword finally drove through the man's armor and pierced his heart, the templar dead before he hit the ground.

"Damn it!" Baldur cursed, swiping the blood and sweat out of his eyes viciously with the back of his gauntlet and no doubt cutting his face with its sharp edges. He barely resisted the urge to throw his sword from him in a fit of helpless rage.

"It had to be done," Wynne intoned gravely. "The enchantment had a hold on his very spirit and the sudden shock of the spell lifting likely would have killed him, regardless."

"You mean the shock of realizing the family he loved never existed in the first place?" Baldur spat back.

The man had been middle-aged, still fit judging from his vicious attack, but with his current profession the chances of him actually being able to secure a wife and children was nigh on impossible. The templar was caught on the other side of the doors with no chance escape unless Baldur and the company succeeded in finding the first enchanter, but at least the man would have died blissfully trapped in his vision if they failed.

"If you let this one demon go, how long before you start turning a blind eye to the actions of others? Desire demons are particularly vile creatures that feed on the weakness of men and women. They give mortals visions of their greatest joy while draining that person's life force. They waste away until they are only empty shells before the demon moves on to another victim," Wynne said with patience and logic that made Baldur want to stick his fist through the wall, but the tower's walls were built of stone rather than wood and plaster, and he didn't imagine Wynne would be thrilled with having to heal his hand a second time.

"How much chance would that man have at finding someone to love while trapped in here? Better we allowed him this lie," Baldur insisted, guilt eating away at him like acid.

"Why is this one man bothering you so much?" Alistair asked. He shifted uncomfortably as if expecting Baldur to level accusations and blame at him for landing the killing blow.

"How is this any different than Honnleath?" Baldur shouted, his frustration peaking. "I allowed a desire demon to possess that little girl and permitted her father to believe his daughter had returned to him! We said nothing because Matthias was so relieved to have Amalia back and I was too much of a coward to tell him that we failed!"

"We did not permit that demon to possess Amalia," Leliana said sharply, the only one in their current group that had actually been there. "It betrayed us after promising to leave the girl alone if we allowed it to go free. It lied, as these demons do. The situation was not ideal, but we could hardly slay the demon while it was possessing Amalia."

"I am afraid the path of a Grey Warden is a difficult one that tests even the greatest man's morality, and I grieve for your loss, Baldur. Truly. You are tasked with great responsibility, but we cannot show mercy to any demons if it is in our ability to stop them. That is our obligation as protectors," Wynne said gently but firmly.

"We did what we had to do," Leliana said, staunchly refusing to spare a moment of regret for a difficult situation that could compromise their mission if they allowed one death to affect their entire purpose for being there.

Baldur knew he was being unreasonable. What was one life when hundreds were at stake? Baldur couldn't afford to question his decisions once they were made. He knew from his time in Orzammar's army on the other end of receiving unfavorable orders leaders couldn't lose sight of the larger picture no matter the cost or loss of life. It was their duty to ensure as little loss as possible, but in war death was unavoidable. Soldiers were pawns, and they enlisted knowing full well they were expendable, even princes like Baldur who demanded to be placed on the front lines with the common soldier rather than safe in the middle where danger was the furthest from him on any side.

"Let's go," Baldur said tightly, knowing this was one battle that was already lost to him and no amount of reasoning would help him accept the failure any easier. He lowered his head as he stepped over the bodies of the demon and the man laying motionless on the ground as their blood pooled out beneath them, their hands reaching towards each other in death.

Their party encountered several more templars bewitched by demons and blood mages alike as if to spite Baldur's wounded empathy, but his anger overcame any compassion he might have had lingering and he struck each one down without hesitation. Baldur snarled when Wynne froze his boots to the ground as he made to chase down a pair of mages who turned to flee, his inner beast howling to be unleashed.

"We do not have time to spare on misguided mages who strike out in fear. We must find Irving first."

Baldur shook his head, sending a spray of blood and sweat from his skin, but too angry for words. He met Alistair's eye and took a deep breath, trying to focus on the task ahead rather than giving into his berserker and slaughtering every living, or unliving, thing that opposed him. Wynne leveled a speculative glance at him, but Baldur grimaced and quickly turned away. He distracted himself by pawing over the remains of the fallen while attempting to regain control over himself, only needing the work of a few seconds to locate pockets of valuables and items of use, discarding what he didn't need. Most of the items they came across would only be of assistance to mages – thereby useless to him. He felt a momentary pang of guilt that he had left Morrigan behind, especially on such poor terms since she would have reveled in all of the resources readily accessible to one as magically inclined as her.

They located Irving's office in what Wynne had informed them was the senior mage's quarters, but unfortunately there was no sign of the first enchanter himself. Baldur searched through his belongings for any clue of where Irving might be found, but he didn't put much hope in finding a note stating where Irving had gone or when he might be expected to return. Baldur did find a heavy black tome inlaid with an intricate tree design that didn't bite or shock him when he touched its cool leather cover, and he stowed the book away in his pack. Morrigan might be swayed by a peace offering, especially coming from the first enchanter's stores, although he did have slight misgivings about providing Morrigan with information that she could use against them or the Circle. He couldn't tell the difference between good or bad magic, only when it was used against him. He just hoped he had enough influence that Morrigan wasn't inclined to chose the side of whatever evil was holding the mages in the Circle in its clutches.

He also found a small bar of gold and a bottle of Tevinter wine in his searches that he purloined when Wynne wasn't looking, doubtful that the mage would appreciate Baldur's penchant for looting. His small thieveries had somehow turned from survival into habit – just one more black mark against his character - but he had reluctantly come to terms with accepting as a necessary evil. He hoped the gold and wine would be less personal and more practical gifts for Zevran and he wouldn't feel the need to read too deeply into their meaning. He'd caught himself turning to seek out the assassin on multiple occasions, unused to him being out of sight. The sharp pang of fear and worry never lessened each time he found his lover missing from his side. He spared a moment to pray those of his teammates he had left behind in Lake Calenhad and in the tower were safe, glad that he at least had Alistair and Leliana with him as well as Wynne who was already proving herself to be an invaluable ally despite their earlier disagreement with the desire demon. He shouldered his pack and forced himself to ignore anymore unopened chests or piles of books on tables that hadn't been overturned. Material possessions would do them little good if they were dead.

"Oh look...visitors," a voice sighed in a slow, muffled drawl as a demon turned to gaze upon them as Baldur led the party into a chamber within the templar's quarters. The demon appeared as if its flesh had been peeled away and the remaining organs and muscles had fused together poorly. Behind its great bulk Baldur spotted the unmoving body of a mage laying at its feet. "I'd entertain you, but...too much effort involved..."

"Good. That'll make you that much easier to kill," Alistair quipped.

"But why?" the demon inquired, its tone beguiling and entirely reasonable. "Aren't you tired of all the violence? Wouldn't you just like to...lay down...and forget..."

Baldur blinked, and then blinked again when his eyelids suddenly struggled to raise as if sandbags had been attached to his lashes. Alistair released a long yawn in his ear before shaking himself, appearing momentarily startled before his eyes slowly became half-lidded as well. "Can't...keep eyes open. Someone...pinch...me."

"I'll not listen to your lies, demon!" Leliana said, but her voice was like molasses and quicker to fade. "You have no...power over me..."

"Resist. You must resist, else we are all lost..." Wynne's was the last voice of reason Baldur heard before the impossibly heavy weight of Aodr clattered to the floor when Baldur's grasp loosened upon its hilt.

"Why do you fight?" the demon crooned kindly. "You deserve more... You deserve rest..."

'Rest' sounded like the most beautiful word Baldur had ever heard. He wanted to lay upon the floor right where he was standing more than anything else in the world. His body insisted he would be more comfortable on the blood-sticky stone than he would laying upon dozens of feather down pillows and blankets. He was so warm and his head was so muzzy...

"The world will go on without you," the demon assured when Baldur let the floor press into his palms and knees, not knowing when he had fallen. A gentle but insistent weight like a stone hand pressed inexorably against his back, guiding him down...

...down...

...down...