Note: Next couple of chapters are going to be slightly different to usual, just to warn you.

Sweat sours my lip as I regroup with Alistair and Sten. The left side of my face is bloody, sticking my matted hair against my cheek, but I brush it aside. Every muscle aches, and I can barely hold my blades, but we are on the brink of victory. The Archdemon hisses, its deadened eyes upon us. Blackened blood pours from its wounds, soiling the sandstone beneath. It knows defeat is imminent, yet remains defiant to the last. It lets out a scream, calling its defenders, but such a rally will be in vain. I will make sure of it.

"It's wearing out," Alistair comments, wiping his grimy face with his sleeve. "A few more blows will take it out for good!"

Sten grunts, grasping his broadsword, awaiting command.

"Sten, Alistair, flank the Archdemon with the Dalish," I order. I raise my voice. "Mages, archers, attack from above with everything you've got!"

A cry ripples through the survivors, and they brace themselves for this final assault. My eyes narrow, and I discard my dagger, taking my sword into both hands. The timing must be perfect, or my strike will count for nothing.

Maker, I pray Morrigan was telling the truth…

"For Ferelden!" Alistair yells, and he breaks into a charge. Sten follows, and they are soon joined by the remaining Dalish warriors. The darkspawn surge, trying to protect the Archdemon, but they are cut aside like a farmer tending his harvest. Thunder, ice and fire rain from above, and the Archdemon bellows, caught in the blast zone. Arrows strike, steel rips through bone and flesh, and its wing breaks. There is no escaping now.

At last an opening appears, and I bolt into the fray. The Archdemon can do nothing but stare, trapped amidst the fighting. My blade will be the last thing it ever sees. Fury consumes me, and I leap, my sword tight in my hands. Yelling, I push all my momentum forward, and my sword plunges between the Archdemon's eyes.

A sickening crunch rings out, its skull shattering from the impact. The shriek is unlike anything I have ever heard. It rears like a panicked horse, desperate to shake me off. Deafened, half-blinded, I focus all my strength into my arms, determined not to let go. My limbs jar, thrown around like a rag doll, but I hold on, pushing my sword deeper. Every jolt sends the blade twisting, and the Archdemon's screams of pain are renewed.

Finally it becomes too much, and I am thrown backwards. My jaw cracks against the ground, and I groan. The force carries me onward, my leg twists beneath me, and I roll over and over. My back crashes into one of the remaining battlements, and I howl, collapsing to my front. A coppery taste fills my mouth, and I spit out blood, finding the strength to raise my head. My leg screams with agony, and I cannot stand. But I do not need to.

The Blight is over.

The Archdemon's eyes dim, and it lets out a mournful shriek. In the throes of death it sprawls out claw and wing, smacking into the ground with impossible force. The tremors ripple, tearing huge cracks through the stone. My eyes widen.

No!

Desperately I attempt to crawl away, but my leg is a dead weight, and already the stones beneath are giving way. Slipping, I cry out, my fingers snatching at the disappearing ground. A splintered rafter comes to my hands, and I cling to it, dangling over emptiness.

No, not like this…not like this!

"ELISSA!" Leliana's voice, shrill and unnatural. A flash of red bolts between the fallen corpses, where the ground remains intact. She tosses her bow aside, her hand outstretched. She is right on top of me, if only I can…

Our fingers almost touch, but it is too late. The battlement collapses, and Alistair tackles Leliana before she is also caught. Stones shatter around me, and the rafter snaps. For a split second Leliana's grey-blue eyes meet mine, her tears frozen on her cheeks, sheer disbelief spread across her features.

Then the moment is over, and I am at the mercy of the wind. Everything is noise and pain, and screams are torn from my lips. A sharp blow strikes my head, and all I know is darkness.

"Ugh…"

Lahara's eyes fluttered open, and she let out a whimper. Maker, that really hurt. Slowly her gaze came into focus, and she found herself staring at an emerald sky. She yelped, jolting upright. What happened to the caves, the temple…

She blinked, looking around. Now she was surrounded by distant mountains and spirals of glowing lyrium. Everything was bathed in jade light, and the air shimmered and rippled. That was when it finally clicked.

She was in the Fade.

Frowning, Lahara raised her left hand to her face. Her mark glowed brightly, stimulated by the energies, but it wasn't quite solid. Thank the Maker; she was dreaming.

"Wonderful," she muttered, pulling herself to her feet. Her mind was fuzzy, and she rubbed her eyes. Had she passed out from exhaustion? Or…

Suddenly the memories came flooding back, and she gasped. She'd been trapped in the ancient temple, the Corruption about to consume them. Then Yara had activated the strange statue, and had been overwhelmed with the white light. Lahara and Hawke had rushed to help, and then…

Lahara shook her head. The magic in that statue must've been potent if it had sent her through the Veil. Nonetheless, this was nothing she couldn't handle. She had found her way out of the Fade many times before. This would be no different.

The Herald took a tentative step, followed by another, then fell into a steady pace. The path before her descended, and a deep chasm formed around her. There was no sign of Yara or Hawke, and she let out a breath. She hoped they were faring better than she was.

Whispers of curious spirits brushed her thoughts, and she fought the urge to look up. They were watching her every move, which meant the demons would be, too. She needed to get back to the real world quickly.

"…will help…finally free her from her burden…"

Lahara froze. A male voice, so clear and resonant, not like the muddled chittering of the spirits above. But it wasn't familiar.

"Anything…so she won't be alone…"

Now a woman's voice joined in, and Lahara held her hands to her ears. It had to be a demonic trick.

"I don't have time for this!" She took a breath, trying to concentrate. The chasm walls closed in, threatening to crush her, and she snapped her eyes shut. She had to remember, rekindle the connection to her body…

"…too strong! She'll…won't survive…stop!"

Lahara gritted her teeth, sweat pooling at her brow. Think about my breathing, my beating heart…

"…too late…the chaos…no longer…without a guide…"

Her left hand began to pulse, and Lahara stared. It seemed to want her to walk further into the chasm. Frowning, she set off again, even though there was barely enough space to walk. Finally she could progress no further, and her mark grew brighter.

"…take her place…can't control…empty…"

Suddenly a spark of green energy left Lahara's hand, and it tore open the stone. It was enough to drown the voices, and Lahara broke into a run, pushing every thought to her physical self. The dull ache in her arms and legs, the stale cavern air, the blueish light of the temple floors, the bitter taste of mana.

Just a little more…

"Lady Et…is dead."

Lahara groaned, jerking back into wakefulness. Cold steel numbed her cheek, and a sword pommel jabbed painfully into her knee. It took a moment to shake off the darkness, and her eyes returned to focus. She was a little way above the rocky ground, and it was moving of its own accord. Bile rose in her throat, and she forced herself to swallow. How was she…

That was when she realised she was being carried. She had been slung across Cassandra's back, her jaw caught against the Seeker's shoulder pauldron. The Herald winced, making to raise her head, and the nausea returned with a vengeance.

Cassandra halted, feeling Lahara move against her neck.

"Herald, you're awake!" the Seeker breathed. "Thank the Maker!"

"Wish I wasn't," Lahara mumbled, slumping forward again. Her head was throbbing, her stomach churned, and for some reason her right hand was also sore.

"We are almost out of the caves," Cassandra said, resuming her walk. "Then you can tell us what happened."

Lahara managed a nod, though that was enough to aggravate her sickness. She turned aside, trying to find a comfortable position, when her gaze fell to the others. Her breath caught in her throat. Bethany carried a lifeless Yara on her shoulders, while Fenris held an unconscious Amber against his chest. Merrill and Varric followed, their faces tight with concern. The hairs on the back of the Herald's neck prickled.

What in the Maker's name…

It wasn't long before they returned to the raw desert air. Lahara coughed, the sand irritating. They walked alongside the river, and soon the tents came in sight. Alistair was sitting by the campfire, but the moment he saw them he jumped to his feet.

"Maker's breath, what happened?!" He raced to Bethany, taking Yara from her. The Warden didn't even stir. "Yara, Yara!"

"She won't wake up." Bethany's voice was quiet.

"And neither will Amber," Fenris added, his voice hoarse.

"Lahara however seems to have recovered a little," Cassandra said, entering the camp. "Perhaps she can tell us more."

Carefully she laid Lahara onto an empty bedroll. Alistair and Fenris followed suit with their respective charges. Lahara closed her eyes for a moment, savouring the comfort, but then managed to sit up. A scout offered her water, and she gratefully took it.

Yara remained utterly still, bar her breathing, but Hawke's brow twitched when Fenris took her hand. Bethany couldn't take her eyes off either of them. She knelt between the two, her face ashen, and she clutched her hands so tight it left marks. Lahara's gaze softened. Maker knew what was going through the mage's mind.

Scout Harding fetched the healer, who came out of his tent carrying a first aid pack. He felt for Yara's pulse, his brow furrowed, before examining her thoroughly. Yet apart from the lightning burn on her arm and a few scrapes, he could find nothing else. Then he turned his attention to Hawke, soon reaching the same conclusion.

"They appear to be stable," he said at last, "for the moment." He walked to Lahara, and she let him perform his checks. "As are you, Herald. However, I cannot explain why they slumber and you do not."

"Clearly I have a better bedtime regime," Lahara muttered.

Alistair snarled, storming over and grasping her shoulders.

"Start talking, Herald!" His voice was low. "And I better like what you have to say!"

"Whoa, calm down a second!" Lahara said, pushing him back. "I'm not even sure what happened myself. All I remember is being trapped by Corruption, reaching out to Yara, and next thing I knew I was somewhere in the Fade."

Alistair bared his teeth. "If that's the best you can come up with…"

"Warden-Commander, I will not tolerate that tone," Cassandra said sternly. "We are as much upset about this as you are, but we must keep our heads if we are to help Yara and the Champion recover."

Alistair closed his mouth, humbled. He released Lahara, and the Herald took a breath. Before she could speak again, however, her right hand burst with pain. She swore, clutching her burning wrist.

"Maker above," she grimaced, "that's not even the right…" A white rune appeared on the back of her hand, and her eyes widened. "…side?"

A collective gasp ran through the others; the same rune had appeared on Yara's chest and Amber's forehead. Bethany yelped, suppressing the sudden surge of mana in her hands. Fenris flinched, his own lyrium markings set off, while Merrill quickly dissipated the spell about to leave her staff. Cassandra, Varric and Alistair stared.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Lahara gawked at her right hand, the rune slowly disappearing. Her arms shook. "Two…bloody two…I have two of these sodding things now?!" She wanted to jump up and punch the cliff-face.

Maker, this had to be a bad dream…

"Whoa, did that little spark just remove the Corruption's magic block on you guys?" Varric asked.

"Seems like it," Fenris said, staring at his arms.

"What in Andraste's name is going on, Herald?" Alistair shook his head. "Is this a new trick you've learned with your mark?"

"Hardly." Lahara sighed, trying to compose herself. There was an explanation for this, surely. "But perhaps we should be asking our mage Warden that question."

All eyes fell to Bethany, and she cowered into her knees. The Herald inwardly winced. As much as she sympathised with the mage, she could not afford to be soft with her.

"You knew about that statue from the beginning, didn't you?" Lahara said. "Or at least, what was in it. And you also knew Yara was the only one who could activate it."

"Yes." Bethany kept her head bowed, her voice barely audible.

"So you lied to us!" Cassandra's jaw tightened. "Dragging us out here under the pretence this would aid in closing the Breach, when all along…"

"Cassandra, not now." Lahara held up her hand, and the Seeker fell silent. There would be plenty of time to throw accusations later. "Bethany, what in the Maker's name did Yara unleash?"

The mage took a breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"The Shards of Andraste," she said softly.

"The Shards of what?" Alistair raised a brow.

"I've not heard of that either," Lahara mused, holding her right hand to her chest. "But with a name like that, no wonder it knocked us for six. It must be amazingly powerful."

"But why did you keep it so quiet, Sunshine?" Varric asked. "Did you hide it from Grim, too?"

Bethany's gaze fell to Yara, and she bit her lip.

"Yara knew," she said at last, "but she didn't want to find them. The only way I could make her was if I forced everyone else to come along as well."

"And what did you hope to achieve through deceiving her, and us?" Cassandra growled.

"It was the only way she could get her memories back!" Bethany snapped. Her voice cracked, and her tears fell freely. "But I never wanted this!"

She buried her face in her hands, sobbing. Alistair was at her side in an instant, wrapping his arm around her. The mage trembled, her tears pattering onto Yara's bandaged arm. A pang ran through Lahara, and she clenched her teeth, scowling at Yara. If the Warden hadn't been so damn stubborn, then Bethany's hand wouldn't have been forced…and Lahara wouldn't have a second divine mark to worry about.

"So, what do we do now?" Alistair asked, gently rubbing Bethany's arm. "Is there any way to help them?"

"Well, if I ended up in the Fade, I'd bet these two are probably still wandering around in there," Lahara said.

"A sound theory, but how did you get back so quick?" Varric asked.

"My original mark helped me find a way," Lahara said. "Also, I'm a mage. I know the short-cuts." Her gaze fell to Yara and Hawke. "For someone not familiar with magic, though…"

"Then can't you just go back and drag them out?" Alistair clenched his fists. "A Sloth demon did this once, and Eli…the Hero of Ferelden managed to free me and our allies from the illusions it created. And she wasn't a mage."

"Amber faced a demon like this, too, and she also escaped the Fade without the aid of a mage," Merrill said.

"This isn't the same as falling under a demon's thrall," Lahara stated. "They could be anywhere across the Veil, and given that I didn't see them, they could be in places where even demons fear to tread." She rubbed her right hand. "Not to mention these runes are bound to have their own effects."

"Fasta vass, so what do we do, then?!" Fenris clutched Hawke's hand tighter. "I refuse to sit here and…"

"We get better information, that's what," Lahara shot back. "We need to return to Haven and talk to Solas. He'll know what's up. I hope."

"Good plan," Varric said. "After all, what he doesn't know about the Fade isn't worth knowing."

"And I'm going back with you," Alistair declared, his gaze falling to Yara. "Adamant can wait."

Lahara gave a firm nod. "Then we'd better make a move."

"Herald!"

Cullen ran from the training grounds of Haven, as Lahara and the group emerged from the bridge. His eyes fell to their unconscious charges, and his jaw dropped. "Maker, is that the Champion of Kirkwall?! How did you…"

"Get the soldiers to take Yara and Hawke to my quarters," Lahara said curtly. "Then send Healer Eliza to them, along with any assistance she requests. We'll give a proper explanation in due course."

"I…yes, at once." The Commander saluted, before shouting to the soldiers near the lake. The men scattered, and shortly returned bearing stretchers. Yara and Hawke were loaded onto them, then carried through the main gate. Alistair, Fenris and Bethany made to follow, but Lahara blocked their path.

"Let the healer do her job," she said. "There's not a lot we can do right now, and we're only going to get in her way. Just make yourselves at home, and I'll bring Solas up to speed and see what he has to say."

"I will inform the others of what happened," Cassandra said. "Perhaps they can dig deeper into these Shards of Andraste, and see if we can uncover any useful information."

"Right." Lahara nodded to Bethany. "You come with me, Bethany. I'm sure Solas will want to know whatever he can about these Shards, and you need to tell him whatever you can."

The mage gave a slow nod, and Lahara sighed. Just when Bethany had been doing better, and now she was back to square one. The Herald brushed back her hair, and her right hand began to buzz. Lahara cringed, tucking her fist into her pocket. No need to draw too much attention to it, yet.

She led the way through Haven's gate, climbing the hill to the infirmary, then headed right. They passed rowdy shouts from the tavern, stopping at another set of cabins. As usual, Solas was leaning against the door to his quarters, his arms folded. He raised a brow as the two approached.

"You seem troubled, my friend?" the elf mage commented, standing tall.

"You don't know the half of it," Lahara answered. "Care for a little chat, in private?"

Solas tilted his head, bemused, but opened the door to his cabin and let the pair enter.

"First, an easy one." Lahara brought forth her right hand, the rune still sparking. "Does this look in any way familiar to you?"

Solas's eyes widened. Speechless, he touched the back of the Herald's hand. Lahara had to fight the urge to flinch; even such a light pressure was like a knife through her skin.

"You have gained a second mark?" he blurted.

"Excellent observation, Ser Obvious," Lahara drawled. "Have you seen it before? Since you seemed to know so much about the other one."

"I cannot say it looks familiar," Solas answered, releasing her hand. "But how did this one come to you?"

"Long story," Lahara said. "We came across a statue in the old temple, and…"

"Bethany Hawke, are you in there?!"

Leliana's furious voice broke through from the other side of the door. She didn't wait for a response and threw it open, storming inside. Her grey-blue eyes were like daggers, and Lahara had to all but throw herself in front of Bethany.

"Whoa, Leliana, now is not the…"

"Silence, Herald!" Leliana shoved Lahara into the desk, sending the papers flying, then grabbed Bethany. She slammed the mage against the wall, not caring for the books knocked off the shelf above. Bethany let her head drop, making no move to defend herself. "This is all your doing and I will not stand for it!"

"Leliana!" Cassandra also appeared, entering the cabin. "There is no cause for such behaviour! You need to calm yourself, you still have no proof that Yara…"

"Was this your plan for revenge all along?" Leliana hissed, ignorant of the Seeker's words. She pressed her fingers harder into Bethany's arms, and the mage whimpered. "I thought you claimed to care for her!"

"Leliana, that's enough!" Lahara snatched the spymaster's wrist, casting an ice spell. Leliana yelped, her forearm frozen in solid white, and she was forced to release Bethany. Cassandra shot forward, grabbing Leliana and twisting her arms behind her, while Lahara wrapped her arm around Bethany, shielding her from further assault.

"I never wanted to hurt Yara," Bethany murmured.

"That is no excuse for what you've done!" Leliana snarled. "If you hadn't tricked Lahara into going to that temple, then Eli…" She caught herself just in time. "…then Yara wouldn't have ended up like this! Now she might never awaken, and…"

Something sparked in Bethany, and she suddenly snapped her head up.

"You have no idea how much she's been suffering!" she roared. "For ten years I've had to watch her fight to reclaim her past, and it's taken everything from her!" Her hands shook. "I had to make her remember, and this was the only way!" She swallowed, fighting the quiver in her tone. "And if she remembered you, then maybe she wouldn't be so scared to love again!"

Leliana's breath caught. She stopped struggling against Cassandra, and a tense silence fell. Lahara glanced between the two, uneasy.

Finally Solas cleared his throat.

"With due respect, would you mind continuing this altercation elsewhere?" he said, reaching for his fallen papers. "I do not feel my possessions have earned such wrath."

Everyone blinked, broken from the moment.

"My apologies, Solas," Cassandra said, tightening her grip. "Leliana?"

"…forgive me," Leliana murmured. She managed to look at Bethany once more, but the hardness in her gaze had lessened. Sighing, she let the Seeker take her back outside.

Trembling, Bethany crumpled to the floor, her tears renewed. Lahara sighed, holding a hand to her head.

"You know what, Solas," she said, crouching beside the mage and lifting her up, "I'll come back later."