FOURTEEN

"Poor, poor Compassion."

Cole pressed his hands against his ears. He curled into a ball on the floor. He didn't dare open his eyes, else he face the reality again. The voice was all around him, inside him, resounding in his head as if there were thousands of them.

But there was only one demon here, hovering over him and drinking in his despair. He felt its hand clench his shoulder. It would have been reassuring, but its grip was cold and tight, and he felt gnarled fingernails biting his flesh.

"What a waste…" The voice drawled. "You failed your friends. You failed Rhys. You even failed to give Cole a new purpose. You were always wasted on them, Compassion. Or perhaps you were a waste from the start. I'm so, so sorry, dear friend. You were never the most discerning of us."

"I didn't fail anyone. You're lying."

"Come now. Have I ever lied to you, dear Compassion?" Said Despair. "I only ever speak the truth of words other beings are too cowardly to admit."

Cole felt its hand leave his shoulder and he dared to look up. The dark and shrouded figure of Despair paced in front of him, gesturing idly at the air as he spoke.

"I admit… though you were never discerning, you are resourceful. One of the most resourceful spirits I have ever known. Coming through the Veil and becoming a mortal body without stealing the host? It impresses me, Compassion. Truly it does. Alas… it only makes this all the worse, doesn't it? The precious body you made is dead and gone now. You've no friends to return to. How can Rhys bear to forgive you if he knew how foolishly you threw it all away?"

"I am Cole. I am Cole. The body isn't dead. It is mine. I am Cole. I'm going to find Rhys. He will forgive me. I am Cole. I am Cole." He repeated to himself over and over. It was all he could do to stay real, to resist…

"You are no more the mortal Cole than I am the Maker. You know that. Deep down, you never were real. Hasn't Lord Seeker Lambert proved that to you once before?"

"I am a person. Varric showed me… he proved…"

"Varric Tethras? That lying, conniving weaver of tall tales? As a spirit you can become what is expected of you to be. I'm sure you'd believe you were Divine Justinia if Varric Tethras made up a convincing enough story to support it."

"Inquisitor Trevelyan is-"

"Is nothing more than an accident. An accident he believes was providence."

"Rhys-"

"Simply pities you. He's always pitied you. Nothing more."

"Stop… stop…"

"Stop what? Speaking the truth? You would rather live comfortably ignorant? I am doing you a service, Compassion. I am shining the light upon the things you have hidden away. I cannot allow one of my brothers to live a lie. It would be oh so very inconsiderate of me."

"Leave me alone!" Cole cried, uncurling from his place on the floor. He shot to attention, crawling up onto his knees as he faced Despair. He raised his voice above the chaos in his mind. "Leave! Get out! Go!"

Despair made a tsking sound and sighed, shaking his hooded head. "Pearls before swine." He walked backwards until the shadows swallowed him up and he was gone.

Cole felt his breaths hitching in his chest as he watched Despair leave, his arms shaking at his sides, his eyes wide and wild. Silence enveloped him and he slumped against the ground, clutching at his face. It was a quiet so absolute, there was not even the sound of his own heartbeat, for he had none here. He didn't even have a real body. Never before had he felt so desperately and utterly alone.

He's right. I'm not Cole.

I'm not even Compassion.

There was a wraith on the ramparts.

Sometimes he would come into the Herald's Rest, a shadow known by no name, yet felt in the hearts of all who entered that place. He listened close when he was there, listened to the agony around him and feeding upon it like a hungry dog. He grew from it, grew stronger, gathered it all up and spat it back out until they knew nothing but their pain.

He sat on the table, watching as the people he knew and once loved came and went. Whatever cheer they brought in, they would leave at the door when they left.

He told Bull his life was meaningless. Now hated and outcast by the Qunari, he found no other purpose in life than a strong drink and loose women. Even Krem could no longer call him a captain. And he told Krem, too, that he was nothing more than a farce hiding behind armor that did nothing.

He told Varric that every person he ever loved was doomed to fade away. They would forget his name, forget his stories, and move on without him. Varric retreated into his study until his skin became ashen, writing only tragedies and cutting his heart away from anyone who wished to call him a friend.

He told Cassandra that she would never love again. She wasn't worth loving. Her heart was too hard and her hand too strong. She ruled with a hardened heart, cutting down her foes without mercy, and her heart was closed to all who wished to see her smile.

He told Dorian that he would never be accepted or understood. That he was throwing everything away with misplaced love- for him, and for Tevinter. Instead of staying in Skyhold, Dorian left into the snow, and no one followed.

He told Vivienne she was worth nothing, that she would never amount to any of her ambitions. And with all the gossamer she hid behind, she could not hide from her purposelessness.

He told Sera that in her world of having so many 'friends', no one was more alone than she. An outcast no matter where she went, it didn't matter if she went or stayed. She would always be homeless.

He told Blackwall that he will never honor the life he stole. He burned the barn, destroyed all his carvings, and left to repay his honor-bound debts.

He told Solas that everyone would turn against him if they knew. And they would know eventually.

As he drifted throughout Skyhold, he left the reminders of everything they hated, everything they feared, everything they lost. The people bickered, they grew bitter, and they let themselves descend into ruin. Drunken, stumbling, they fell on their own swords. He sat back and watched. Now, it was all he needed to do. It brought him no happiness or delight to watch Skyhold fall apart at the seams.

But it was his purpose.

He sat on the ramparts, watching the ruin and kicking his feet idly. He was not expecting anything different of today. Perhaps someone else would mysteriously die. Perhaps there would be more defectors. Perhaps they would even begin to kill each other. It did not matter anymore- he wouldn't have to lift a finger. He had thrown the proverbial pebble into the mountains and simply watched as the avalanche fell.

When the two strangers appeared in Skyhold, Despair paused. This was wrong.

He watched the main gates at the two figures as they walked inside. He narrowed his eyes. He recognized those faces. It was Inquisitor Trevelyan and the man named Rhys. A scowl deepened on his face and he listened to them. They could not see him, for he did not want to be seen. The shadows swallowed him up where he sat.

"It's Skyhold." Said Khyran as he stepped into the courtyard. "But… it's wrong. Very wrong."

"It's the Fade. It'll be wrong." Rhys quipped.

"I know, but… shouldn't Skyhold be reflected based on how Cole remembered it?" Khyran said. "Where's… the laughter? The music? The color?" He looked around at Skyhold's citizens, at their blank and grey faces, at the way they carried themselves as if they had a weight upon their shoulders.

"I wouldn't know. I've never really been here." Rhys responded. "Is this not how it's supposed to look?"

"Of course not!" Khyran said, exasperated. "The people of Skyhold are happy." He spun on the spot, examining the fortress as if he was seeing a vandalized painting. "Everything is wrong! It's… like it's been defiled!"

"There must be a demon here, then." Rhys said. "A demon keeping Cole prisoner. Just as before."

"What do you mean?"

"I saved him from a demon once. It was a long time ago." Rhys responded. "It does not surprise me that he would be vulnerable again." Taking his staff into his hands, he nodded to Khyran. "You should take the lead. You know this place more than I."

"It's not my Skyhold, whatever it is…" The Inquisitor responded warily as he crept across the courtyard. Everyone virtually ignored him as he passed. "I recognize these people. Their faces. Cole must be filling this place with his memories of Skyhold's citizens, but…" He trailed, and didn't finish the thought. It didn't need to be said. It was obvious everyone here were merely husks.

Despair watched Rhys and Khyran as they began to scale the stairs that led into the main hall. He swept off the ramparts and landed soundlessly on the ground, then followed after them. They weren't supposed to be here. They needed to leave. He needed to make them leave.

Khyran and Rhys walked across the great hall, their footsteps resounding in the emptiness. Everyone inside ignored the two intruders or averted their gaze. When Khyran reached the throne at the end of the hall, he spun on his heel. He faced down the hall, smacked his staff down on the floor and demanded, "I know this is an illusion, demon! Where are you keeping Cole!?"

All the spirits wearing the faces of his friends and citizens looked up at him. Then, they all looked away and did nothing more. It was as if their leader, the Inquisitor, wasn't even there at all.

Silence.

Then, Despair showed himself.

He stepped out into the hall, and Skyhold's citizens parted as he walked forward. The citizens fell back in his wake, cowering and clawing at their faces. He did not look at them. He kept his gaze forward, fixed on Inquisitor Khyran Trevelyan's face.

"I call myself a savior, a saint, yet hundreds fall by my hands and hundreds still." Said Despair as he closed the distance between them. "Andraste's chosen, favored by the Maker, I say this as the bodies pile up around me. I wanted peace, perfection, purity, but pain possesses more power." He could see Khyran's grip tightening on his staff.

He turned and faced Rhys, now halfway across the threshold. "I have no real home left, no family. I always sat on the line, in-between, until it was too late. I wasted too much and Evangeline paid the price. She is still paying the price."

"Shut up, demon." Growled Khyran. "We're here for Cole. Then we're going to leave."

"Cole?" Despair chuckled. "Trying to sweep up the shards of a mess you made? I'm afraid it's too late. Your dear friend Cole is too far gone, all thanks to you."

"Please. Take us to Cole." Rhys said, bowing his head to Despair. "We only wish to talk to him. We did not mean to intrude here." Despair could see the fear in his eyes, the trembling in his hands. He smiled.

"Pathetic, placating, powerless." Despair creeped up towards Rhys, weaving between him and Khyran, circling him like a buzzard. "What would you like, Rhys? Would you like me to show you the extent of the damage? The corpse of the young man you failed to remember?" Despair sneered, his bony fingers curling around Rhys's neck. "He was waiting for you, you know. He wasn't hiding. He wanted proof. Proof that you still cared. You never showed your face."

Rhys obviously tried to keep his expression impassive. But Despair could sense his fear, smell his uncertainty. "I… I didn't know he wanted me to-"

"Excuses." Despair spat. "You were his only friend. What were you expecting?"

"Leave Rhys alone, demon!" Khyran demanded. "Answer to me! Where is Cole!?"

Despair's fingers uncurled from Rhys's neck. He turned, cocking his head. "Of course, Inquisitor. Obviously I am to bow to your every whim. The Maker speaks through you, so, your word is law. No matter what anyone else wants."

"Where. Is. Cole."

Despair did not reply. He merely smiled. He saw Rhys shrinking back, eyes widening in shock, one of his hands pressed to the side of his face. The human staggered until he all but stumbled over the Inquisitor's throne. "No… no… no…" Rhys gasped, shaking his head.

Khyran shot Rhys a wary look. "What's wrong? Rhys!?" He looked from Rhys to Despair, then back to Rhys. "Rhys…?"

Rhys didn't move or speak. Neither did Despair. Silence lingered.

Despair twitched. He hugged his arms against his chest, lowering his head. "...You promised, Inquisitor Trevelyan. You promised. Do you remember?" The demon's allowed his voice a softness even he did not expect.

"What… what did I promise…?"

Despair lifted his head to look at Khyran beneath the hood of his cowl. "You said you would kill me." He stepped forward until he was near Khyran, and he reached out and took his hand. Khyran did not move, merely stared at the Demon, jaw slightly agape. Despair pressed Khyran's hand against the center of his own chest.

"You said you would kill me if I became a demon."

His words froze time. He could have captured the moment in glass- the shock on Khyran's face, the tears in Rhys's eyes. The moment shattered only when Khyran backed away, hand slipping off of Despair's chest. "No. No, this is a trick. A lie. That's… that's what you demons do!"

"He's not lying." Rhys choked.

"I… I can't kill you." Khyran said. "I won't. Cole is still in here, in… in there. He must be…"

"I am Despair. Nothing more. Nothing less." The demon replied. "Kill me. Like you promised. Then it'll be over. I'll be free."

Khyran dropped his staff on the ground and it clattered in a resounding thud. He raised his palms. "No. There has to be another way." He said. "Rhys! Rhys, do something! Give him something to remember! Something to hold on to!"

Rhys tried to stand from the throne, his breaths heavy in his chest. "Cole… do you remember coming through the Veil? For the dying boy? You held his hand… remember…?"

"It did nothing. I could not help him."

"You did help him! You became him!" Rhys shouted, now standing at full height. "You gave up everything to give him another chance!"

"To live a life forgotten and alone."

Rhys approached the demon as he spoke, head held high, eyes alight. "We didn't forget you, Cole. That's why we're here. We're here to bring you back."

"Back to a flawed human body. Do you really want me to suffer like that?"

Rhys placed his hands on the demon's shoulders, looking right into the creature's lopsided face. "Back to a flawed, broken human body in a flawed, broken world." He murmured. "Back to a body that can breathe the scent of honeydew and feel the splash of sun against skin. Back to a hurting world that can grow stronger because it was touched by you. Back to the people who will miss you if you left."

"No… no, it's not worth it. Nothing's worth it- nothing…"

Rhys tugged the demon toward his chest, thrusting both arms behind Despair's back and hugging him tight. "Come back, Cole. I miss you." His grip tightened, holding him even closer. "Come back."

"Rhys, don't- it's a trick!" Khyran cried, running forward. But just as he reached out to grab Despair and throw him away from Rhys, he stopped dead in his tracks. The shrouds upon the demon had fallen away, the shadows lifted, and the darkness retreated.

The person curled in Rhys's embrace was Cole.