Chapter 21: Anders

I feel frayed.

There is one consciousness, my First. He is my friend. I want to give him what he wants, but he asks too much. I don't know if this is the same person that I used to trust and respect, or if he has become something else. I want insurance; to know what I am doing before it is too late to back out …it's already too late.

The Second, he confuses me. I see his memories through his eyes. He was a man once, a mage. I don't understand what happened to him but I know that he is trapped now and he is in pain. I wonder if he is obscuring his mind from me, showing me only those things that he knows I will sympathise with. I know he was responsible for much death and heartache, but I cannot bring myself to dismiss him.

They both want freedom, but the First is an altruistic urge, the Second is selfish. I feel torn, there are three consciousness's here in this space that was only ever meant for one, and two of them hate one another. The Third thinks he hates them all.

The Third is weak, he has been quashed to a far corner, an observer. He pushes on, with only half of himself in the real world even though, physically, he never left. He tries to notice his friends. He tries to smile when they look at him with worried eyes. He nods soberly in conversations unheard. He puts one foot in front of the other, over and over as he is led. He fights bodily, but he can do nothing in his own mind but listen and think.

All his life, his problems have been simple to escape, if not solve altogether. He could always run, and he always had. But he can't run from his own body, here he is trapped. He tries to ignore the arguments and the persuasive guilt, but their voices are so much louder than his.

He sees both sides, the want for personal freedom and the desire to give this gift to others. Why not help the Second then?

But there is something there, something vague. It is indiscernible yet clear. If the Second were obviously hostile, malevolent even, then this would be so much easier. It is hard to walk into an obvious trap. There is just that unshakeable feeling that something is off about him, something insincere in what he shares and what he chooses not to.

Which part of this patchwork being am I? I can't be sure. Sometimes I hear myself in every thought, but I am probably the Third. He is so weak.

I'm not sure of anything anymore. I am tired of making mistakes. I don't need more regrets; more scars to wear for the rest of my life. It seems sometimes that that is all I am.

I feel a tug on my consciousness and the Second grows louder, painful even. I open my eyes; really open them to the world. We have stopped. I see a darkspawn before us. His stance is not hostile. No, I remember, that is Larius. His mind feels different against mine. It is not a part of the hive mind of the darkspawn, but he hears their Calling all the same, just as I do.

I focus. The world knits itself into more concrete sensations. I can feel the weight of my dirty clothing hanging off of my body, the cool polished wood of my staff in my hand. The sounds are crisper, clearer; but always there is that noise in the back of my mind, both voices pulling me in. I push back.

…"Are you talking about Corypheus?" Garrett's voice is pure, clean. I feel a pang of longing for him and for the simplicity of us. I wouldn't ever need anyone else. The problem is that once you let someone into yourself as I have, they are there for good. They say that two is company, but three is a crowd. I have no choice in the matter and I cannot run from this. I am afraid that there is no space here for Garrett any longer.

"He calls. Like an Old God. He mimics their cry." Larius is talking about Corypheus. Like an old God? Then this… this is my Calling. I don't know which option is worse: knowing that my time has come, or thinking that maybe he has singled me out for a purpose. Perhaps the answer is both. I don't know what I should feel, maybe relief? I am free, truly. Death is no longer an obstacle, more a destination.

"Can… can the rest of you hear him? I figured it was just me." My voice was dry and hoarse when I spoke. I couldn't remember the last time that I had. I realised that my question was foolish as soon as I had asked it. They are not Grey Wardens, except Carver, who had only been in the order for a few years. If he were sensitive enough to the taint to be able to hear the Calling, then I would be long dead by now.

Garrett wasn't looking at me, but I saw his throat bob and his jaw clench. He didn't want to acknowledge my passengers. I couldn't blame him.

"He calls them to free him," Larius rasped, "The dark children and the light, any with taint in their blood."

"If Corypheus isn't an old god, what is he?" Garrett asked, "Human, demon, darkspawn?"

"More than darkspawn. More than human." Justice was right, "He thinks. He talks. He pierces the Veil."

"You're talking about an awakened darkspawn. The Wardens have only encountered them once," Carver exclaimed. The Wardens keep just as many secrets from their own as they do from the world; Carver doesn't know that the Commander is still in contact with the Architect, though they are yet to come to an agreement. Only those who were there from the start would understand. There are many awakened darkspawn, and more than enough darkness for them to hide in.

"That's the Wardens" I say, surprising myself, "– always so sure of everything."

"He wants what was once his," Larius says. Freedom… but then what?

"How could this Corypheus be sending people after me if he's asleep?" Garrett asks…

I don't think asleep is the right word for Corypheus' current state. He has a will. He is awake in my head, maybe more than I am. If he is this compelling in sleep then I dare not face him awakened. I can see it now that I am in charge again. I can see what needs to be done, but… when I hear their voices in my head, when I stop hearing my own will anymore, then do I really have a choice? Thank the Maker for Justice. If he were not there to hold back Corypheus, then I don't know what would have become of me already.

…"When you run off, where do you go?" Garrett demanded.

"I know the darkness before the seals." A contorted grimace swept over Larius' already marred features. It spoke of fear. "Here, the voice is too strong. I cannot stay!"…

The second consciousness did not quiet its thoughts. How many people was he influencing right now? Were there others on their way to his prison? It hurt to know that I was the weak link in our team. If there were one who would seal our fates, then it would be me. I couldn't let that happen.

Garrett's broad shoulders shrugged in front of me and I watched as Larius disappeared and we resumed the motions of travel. We walked, across a bridge, down another flight of stairs. The stone walls were gone and the ground was wet and empty. We rushed past scattered battlements belonging to old fortresses. I fought darkspawn with mechanical precision. Or maybe Justice fought them more than I did.

More pillars, more torches; dwarven runes and griffon statues. It was all fading again. The voices were louder now and I was sinking back into them. It is too much for me to resurface for so long. They are so much stronger than I am.

The Second demands attention. What does Larius know? He is not as old as I am! He was not there in the beginning! Do I not deserve my freedom, like all the others? Am I so different? He shows me his childhood, his family, his free life.

Larius is a Grey Warden Commander. His goal is to destroy the darkspawn. This is a worthy cause. If the Grey Wardens believe this creature must be destroyed, then we should not question it. Darkspawn are not meant for this world, he will corrupt. That is all that they are capable of. He shows me Amaranthine, all the death that we fought against, those that were lost.

But besides the broodmothers, no Darkspawn were ever people. They are birthed with blackest hearts and direst malice with only one guide: a compelling drive to search, dig, find and corrupt. This is their conscience. They come to being in this way, and they do not change their natures. The awakened darkspawn seek freedom from their disposition, but they too, were never men. They have only ever known darkness. The second consciousness is not a ghoul. He was never a Grey Warden. He was a man, he still is human.

Give me this chance to be free, to be real again.

A man must have a dark heart indeed to become a darkspawn without contracting their disease.

This is too confusing. I am only one person. How can I have so many diverging opinions fighting for dominance in my mind?

It hurts.

Through a film of distance, I see Varric open his mouth, gesturing to me. The way he sweeps his hands across before him, I think he must be telling a story. I train my eyes on him as we walk, I smile, I nod, but I am still absent. I can't claw my way out to listen to him. It's too loud in here. I feel like I am being bricked in with sound and thoughts.

I see through another pair of eyes, and the images are tainted with a perception that is not my own. There is feeling and thought here. It is righteous and sure.

I see through a second pair of eyes. I see suffering and I see mistakes, mistakes that have caused a lot of hurt. I think I see regret.

Are those my eyes?