The dragon loomed over the vast valley it stood upon, gazing down at the giant horde below it. Its eyes blazed as it subjugated them, tilting its massive head back and letting out a deafening roar. The darkspawn below raised their weapons above their heads, screaming at the top of their horrid lungs to answer their master. That's when it spoke.

The word should be used loosely. There was certainly language being said by the creature, but it was not understandable to those who were not darkspawn. But that didn't mean you couldn't feel it. Commands full of rot and malice, penetrating hatred and corruption spewed out from the mind of the dragon. It was impossible to shut out or ignore, it consumed all. Somehow it was weightless and crushing, fluid and jagged. And when it was finished it marvelled at its own power.

When the darkspawn moved out, the dragon lingered. It turned its head slowly, staring into the abyss of the Veil. She had to wake up. If she didn't wake up it would see her wake up wake up wake up

Something terrible was going to happen. Soon. It's only a matter of time.

Veira's eyes bolted open. It took a few moments for the chilly night air to register in her mind, but when it finally did she slowly sat up, shuddering. From the cold or the nightmare she could not tell.

"Bad dream?"

She looked over at the source. The ex-Templar poked at the campfire dully, looking rather bored. He didn't have anyone to talk to, until now. Leliana and Dario were both fast asleep, and Morrigan was no where to be found; like he would chat with her anyway. Sten was standing dutifully away from the fire, watching his post, and he wasn't exactly a talker. She nodded once at Alistair, then rubbed her forehead.

"It felt so real..."

"Well it is real. Sort of." He shrugged. "Us Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn, right? So we can tap into their...uh, group mind, I guess you'd call it. Whether we want to or not."

Veira was horrified. But she had guessed as much. "So these nightmares...do they ever go away?"

"You learn to block them out after a while. But some have trouble sleeping their entire life. More sensitive, I suppose."

She rubbed her eyes. "I was afraid you'd say that. Thanks."

"That's me! Deliverer of witty one liners and unpleasant news."

She chuckled softly, despite what he had confirmed. "When I sensed the darkspawn today...it was different than before. It felt..."

He nodded. "Kinda nice? That's what it feels like when you get better at it. The darkspawn can all sense each other, including us. Wouldn't make sense if it hurt them all the time. Eventually, you'll be able to sense me whenever I'm nearby. But only a little."

"Oh really?" she laughed, "sounds convenient."

"And not at all a bit creepy?"

"Well...yes, that too."

He laughed with her, which made it difficult for him to hide a yawn. It was still in the middle of the night, and Alistair and Sten had been on first watch since they first set up.

Veira smiled at him. "Come on, get some sleep. I'll take over watch."

"You sure? I still have a few hours."

"Go on. There's no way I'll be able to fall back asleep."

He shrugged, giving up. "Suit yourself. 'Night."

Her smile wilted after he relaxed on his blanket and closed his eyes. She raised a hand to stare at intently. The more she learned about what exactly was running through her veins, the more terrified she grew. She wondered if she would be able to grow accustomed to these nightmares, or would they eventually drive her insane? Maybe she would learn to block them out, but if not...

She gritted her teeth. She didn't have the right to complain about this. It was her own doing that got her here.

She got up quickly, needing to banish these thoughts from her head. She glanced at Sten, still standing all by himself and leaning on the giant sword he had taken from the bandits. He had not said a word since she let him out of his prison. The Qunari was a complete mystery; why he was here in Ferelden, why he killed that family. Why he seemed completely fine even though he had been locked up for so long. She seemed to attract mysterious companions.

She walked up beside him, straining her neck to look up at his face. "We can switch, Sten, if you want to rest."

Without turning his head, he looked down at her. "No."

Well, that was...direct. "Are you sure? You were stuck in a cage for so long!"

The Qunari raised his brow slightly. But the tone of his voice did not change much. "You are...concerned. No need. I am fit to fight."

"Oh, that I know well," she grinned, "you were very impressive with the darkspawn today. Where did you learn to fight like that?"

He looked at her as if she said something completely absurd and obvious. "I am a Beresaad, the vanguard of the Qunari."

Now that made a lot of sense. "So you were a soldier?"

"I still am."

She nodded, almost apologetically. "Why did you come to Ferelden, if you don't mind me asking? We haven't done anything to spark a war with the Qunari, I hope."

For once, there was a bit of humour in his voice. "Not this time, no. The Arishok asked 'What is a Blight?', and at his vocation I am here."

She leaned in closer, her face brightening at the chance to learn something about the Qunari. "What's an Arishok?"

"The one who commands the Antaam, the body of the Qunari."

So he was ordered to by someone who was king-like, she assumed. Though the Blight had not reached Qunari lands, and from what little she knew of the Qunari, it seemed they would not worry about the potential destruction of a tiny country it attempted to take over at one point. "Why do the Qunari care about the Blight?"

That time, he did turn his head to face her. "Why do you?"

"I...I am a Grey Warden. It's my job." She wasn't sure if she was completely convinced by that.

"Exactly. You do not question it, you do as your duty demands. I am no different."

The elf nodded, impressed by his certainty. She envied the stoic warrior, having no doubts of what he needed to do and how to do it. She wished she had that, especially now that she was scared for her future. "Couldn't you return now, since you're free? You know enough about the Blight now, about the Archdemon and having fought darkspawn."

In that moment, Sten lost the solid look in his eyes, and instead sported a distant gaze she could not describe. "I cannot go home."

Veira's mouth opened slightly, trying to find the best words. She doubted Sten would appreciate plain sympathy, he didn't need people feeling sorry for him. But for someone who has been alone all this time, alone in his mission...perhaps what was best was acceptance. She smiled up at him, but not reaching to touch his arm like she would Alistair. The Qunari also did not strike her as the type to like physical contact much. "Well...you are welcome to stay with us, Sten."

His expression was unreadable to her. She could have sworn his face softened for a split second, but returned to normal before she could really process it. He gave her a curt nod. "...thank you."

That was good enough for her.

The morning dew was so thick that drops welled up and dripped onto Veira's cheek, like a light rainfall. Her face crinkled as her eyes squinted to bright light illuminating the trees around her. Rubbing her eyes and sitting up, she realized she was wet all over. So she had managed to fall asleep after all. Which was all well and good expect for the whole waking up cold and soaking wet. They would have set up their tents if it wasn't so crowded; the canvas would likely have more holes poked through from the branches everywhere.

Frowning at her damp dress, she quickly grabbed her mage robe from her bag, and snuck off to change. The Dalish didn't care about being around mages, in fact, she was quite sure all their keepers were mages themselves. Many fellow elven mages back at the tower dreamt about escaping the Circle and the chantry and finding the Dalish, and she herself had to admit that it was a very appealing idea. She just wasn't sure what their stance on bloodmagic was.

When she returned, her companions were up and eating a quick breakfast. When they finished packing up and made to leave, they decided not to wait for the witch to come to them at camp. Morrigan eventually emerged from the forest to catch up to them, with her usual scowl and all. Her lip curled when she spotted Veira.

"You shall attract every beast in this place wearing that shiny, pathetic attempt for a piece of garb," she snarled, following them.

The Circle mage blinked, tugging at her golden sleeve subconsciously. "Everything else I have is wet...it's not too noticeable, is it?"

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "You might as well hold a 'shoot me' sign for the Dalish."

"Now, now Morrigan, there's nothing wrong with her being fashionable!" Leliana said cheerfully. "Mage robes are always so beautiful! Though they much more...decorative in Orlais."

Veira's eyebrows perked. "Why did you come to Lothering's chantry if you're from Orlais?"

"Oh! Er," Leliana stumbled, "I was born in Orlais, but my mother was Ferelden, so I consider myself as such. I just...found myself in Ferelden. It was an adventure!" She smiled as if she wanted to change the subject.

Veira decided to grant her wish. "How are mage robes different in Orlais?"

Leliana beamed. "They are made with the finest silks, in gorgeous vibrant colours and decorated with gems, lace, even fur! And they are not all made the same, some have long elegant sleeves, some with exquisite trains of fabric at their feet. Ooh, and the hats! The mage hats in Orlais are very detailed."

Veira frowned. "Ugh, I hate mage hats. They always look ridiculous!"

Alistair snorted. "What, are you kidding? They're hilarious!"

The Circle mage pouted at him. "Maybe to you-"

"Enough!" Morrigan bristled. "Tis not the point, you three dolts-!"

Just then, the trees burst with figures emerging from the dark, each holding bows and pointing them right at the group. Elaborate tattoos and elven faces marked them as the people they were searching for. Though that may not matter if they decided to release those arrows.

"That is the point." Morrigan said, pointing at the glaring elves.

Dario snarled fiercely at the threatening elves, which only provoked them further. Their arms tensed, and their stances shifted to defence. Her companions were the same. Sten already had a firm grip on the hilt of his sword, while Leliana teased the daggers at her hips. One bad move would result in a lot of death. Veira crouched beside the angered hound, resting a hand on his neck. "Easy, Dario," she soothed, and the dog calmed down. Now for the rest.

The leader of this band of Dalish lowered her bow cautiously, though none of her companions did. "You may be of my kind," she said cooly, speaking only to Veira, "but you are not Dalish. You have come too close to my clan, and I will only warn you once. Leave."

"We came here to find you," Veira said calmly, "for a grave matter. I am a Grey Warden, and we desperately need to speak with you and your clan."

"A Grey Warden?" The hunter folded her arms, thinking carefully. "Not many would use that as an excuse...very well. I will take you to our keeper, and he can decide what to do with you. But I warn you, Warden, our arrows will still be on you, and if you try anything..."

"You will shoot me," Veira said brightly. "That is fair. Thank you."

The woman raised an eyebrow at the mage, but nodded at her companions and turned to lead them to their camp. It was not too far; soon they saw small clouds of smoke from bonfires and heard the sounds of chatter and children playing. Their camp was very large, constructed with tall statues of their gods and their land sails, called Aravels, which were large carts they used to hold their belongings. And they made for a quick packing when they will eventually leave this forest.

The hunter lead them to an older elf, and by his robes and staff, and the ancient power she could sense from him, she knew this man for what he was. A very experienced mage, perhaps even stronger than Irving. He turned to look at them, eyeing herself and Morrigan in particular. He could sense their magic too. Though there was a certain tiredness to his demeanour, like he hadn't had proper rest in a very long time.

"Mithra," he said to the woman, "I see we have guests."

Mithra nodded, tipping her head in respect. "This woman claims to be of the Grey Wardens. I felt it best to leave the decision of what to do with them to you."

A small smile curled his lips. "That was wise of you. Ma Serannas, you may return to your post."

"Manuvenin, keeper."

Mithra bowed before her keeper, then signalled her hunters to lower their bows as they followed her back into the trees.

"Now," the keeper continued, "perhaps we should introduce ourselves. I have precious little patience and time to deal with outsiders, especially if you are not actually a Grey Warden. You are...?"

"My name is Veira. Pleased to meet you." The keeper must be confident in his magic if he didn't believe she was a Grey Warden yet.

He glanced at her companions, then back to her. "I am Zathrian, keeper and hahren of this clan. Are you all Grey Wardens as well?"

"Just me." Alistair said, half raising his hand.

"I see..." Zathrian sighed. "If you are here to warn us of the Blight, I'm afraid it is unneeded. I have already sensed the corruption in the south."

"No, our cause is much more dire than that," Veira said quickly, reaching into her pack and grabbing the treaty for the Dalish. "We are here about these treaties, the contract between the Dalish and the Wardens. We need help in this war."

Zathrian took the scroll, eyeing it quickly. His brow furrowed, looking exhausted. "It is indeed the treaty we signed centuries ago," he sighed again, handing it back to her, "but I'm afraid we cannot help you."

"What?" She couldn't help but sound distressed, to put it lightly. She gritted her teeth and tried to lower her voice. "W-what do you mean?"

"Perhaps it is best to show you," Zathrian said, the lines on his face deepening. "Come, this way."

They followed Zathrian cautiously. The Dalish who were hard at work would stop and stare, an air of nervousness so thick you could cut it with a knife. The only people in the clan that seemed undisturbed by the strangers were the children, who continued to play with each other as if nothing else was going on. That was probably the plan all along, to keep them happy. Zathrian stopped at an odd place; it was at the back of the camp where the surroundings were blurry, in a circular shape. It took Veira a few moments to realize it was a barrier, the strongest she had ever seen. It was sophisticated enough to mirror the forest, to keep out whatever the keeper feared and rendering it invisible to the naked eye. It was only a question of what he was protecting.

He raised a hand and spoke an incantation, in the old Elvish language the Dalish continue to use and remember. In a few seconds the barrier shifted, the reflection of the forest disappeared and turned into a transparent blue colour. Once the mirror was gone, it was all too obvious what Zathrian was keeping safe.

It was an infirmary. Dozens of elves lay cringing on their cots, caked in sweat and crying out in pain. Their limbs twitched horribly, and their eyes were so pale it was like all the patients were blind. There were a few tending to the sick, a young woman casting healing spells and an herbalist mixing together roots and various types of plants. From the desperation on both their faces, Veira could tell their efforts were not getting any results.

"This...will need an explanation," Zathrian said sadly, "we came here a month ago, as is our custom when we stay in Ferelden. We are always wary of the dangers of this forest...but we could not foresee the werewolves lying in wait."

Veira's eyes widened. "Werewolves? Such creatures exist?"

It was Morrigan who answered. "Flemeth tells tales of such a time. Packs of possessed wolves, much like abominations, roaming the land unchecked. But it is a time long passed."

"No longer," the keeper said firmly. "They ambushed us. Though we drove the savage beasts back, it was not without terrible loss. The warriors they did not kill now lay here, slowly dying of their curse." He turned to the woman still healing. "Even with all our magic...all of our healing skill...we will still be forced to slay our beloved brethren, to prevent them from becoming the monsters that attacked us first." He sighed, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder. "That is enough, Lanaya."

Lanaya looked up at her keeper tearfully. But she relented, letting her spell go. "The Blight's evil must be stopped," Zathrian continued, "but we cannot help you and uphold our obligation." He turned to them and bowed apologetically. "I am truly sorry."

"There must be something we can do!" Leliana pleaded, looking at the Circle mage.

Veira was inclined to agree with her. There was no way she could simply walk away from these people now. "Is there anything we can do to help your warriors?"

Zathrian blinked, but he couldn't hide a creeping smile that was probably a mixture of relief and gratitude. It did not last long however. "The sickness that runs through their veins brings them a great agony, then either a painful death or a transformation into something monstrous. The only thing that could help them must come from the source of the curse itself, and that...would not be a trivial task to receive."

"You know where the curse came from?"

He nodded. "Within the forest dwells a great wolf- we call him Witherfang. It was from him the curse originated, and it spread through his blood. If he is killed and his heart brought to me, perhaps I could destroy the curse. But this task is too dangerous for us. I cannot risk my clan, and I cannot do it alone."

He looked at one victim sadly, kneeling before the twitching man. "A week ago I sent some hunters into the forest for this task...but they have not returned. I cannot make that mistake again."

Veira's heart wrenched at the sight of the powerful mage so vulnerable. But she would be the same, if her own decisions led to the disappearance of loved ones.

"Couldn't you have sought outside help?" Alistair asked, but not harshly.

"From whom shemlen?" Zathrian shot back. Shemlen was the elvish word for human. "Do you honestly believe your people would go out of their way to assist us? Do you think the children of the Stone would leave their fortress of rock and lava to help us? I think not. We are Dalish. Elves."

"I-" Alistair stammered, his ears going red. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...I apologize."

Zathrian breathed a long sigh. "If you can help us, however, I would be more than happy to uphold our obligation to the Wardens."

"Then we'll do it." Veira said immediately. "I'll do whatever it takes."