XXI

Getting out of the Fade proves to be complicated.

Calpernia looks around, wishing it was a joke. Perhaps it is a joke, a cruel one; the demon that trapped them here is surely laughing. The world spins, and for one long moment she's afraid she's going to faint. She takes a deep breath, but she's far from being calm.

„This cannot be real."

"Well, it is. But it also isn't," Servis frowns. "The Fade is confusing…"

"He's not a mage! What would a demon want from him?"

"Whatever demons usually desire, I believe. We can't know for sure until we face it."

"Then where is he?!"

A group of four templars looks straight at them. Servis gasps, wants to take a step back but Calpernia grabs his hand and holds him in place. The templars seem like ordinary people, two women and two men, yet there's something unnatural about them. She can't quite explain it, maybe it's the way they look at them – as if they didn't really see them, their glassy eyes looking straight through them.

"We need to stay calm," Calpernia says, more to herself, her voice slightly louder than a whisper. "What are they? Memories? Demons that pretend to be human?"

"I'm not sure if I want to check," Servis mumbles. "I wonder if the stories are true. You know what they say about templars in the south, and what they do to mages…"

"We need to find Samson and get out," Calpernia says; she looks away from Servis so he won't see the distress in her eyes. "The sooner, the better."

She glances around at the tall walls, the building in the distance that has to be the infamous Circle of Kirkwall; she scans the faces of people, searching for the one who has to be trapped here.

Samson hated the Circle, Chantry and all that. Then why his dream shows the place he claims to loath? Calpernia bites her lower lip.

"This dream, or whatever it is, seems overly complicated," Servis adds. "It won't be easy to…"

"Then we better get to work," she gives him a harsh look, her brows furrowed.

Templars stand in small groups all around the place. They seem to be talking but when Calpernia looks at them they're standing still, their faces blank as if they only moved when she paid no attention to them. A chill runs down her spine at the memory of what they could do, how easily they would make all her magic disappear if she provoked them. She glances at Servis, and he seems even more distraught.

They walk around, trying to stay away from the templars. They don't seem real, though Calpernia suspects they could become real enough to attack them if they made a mistake.

There's a staircase leading up to another building, the Circle as Calpernia suspects, though the stairs are behind a gate which appears locked. To keep the intruders out or the mages in?, she wonders, her lips twisting into a bitter smile.

"Should we go in there?" Servis asks.

"Perhaps it would be wiser to just wait and see what happens."

"What if nothing happens? Or worse, what if something does happen and we have to fight another demon?"

"Stay calm," she urges, though she understands his concerns.

There are three stalls by the gate, two of them empty while there's a mage standing by the last one. He's selling various pieces of armour, most of them damaged and then repaired, though there are some brand new gloves and chestplates among the used ones.

He has a narrow face, bright eyes, and dark hair cut short. He's wearing a simple blue robe with a hood. He's folding something in his hands, and when Calpernia squints at him, she can notice he's making a small figure out of a piece of paper.

The gate opens, a templar walks out and stops by the mage's stall. He inspects a piece of armour in his hands. He has a crest of Kirkwall embroidered on his back, like every other templar from this place; his dark brown hair reaches down almost to his shoulders. From where she's standing Calpernia can't see his face, yet for some reason this man looks more real than the other templars, making something twist anxiously in Calpernia's gut.

The mage looks up and a wide smile appears on his face.

"My favourite templar!" he laughs.

"The one and only who tolerates your foolish escapades, you mean," the templar replies.

Calpernia blinks. I know this voice.

She exchanges a look with Servis who appears equally surprised. He points at the templar, mumbles something incomprehensible. Calpernia shakes her head. It cannot be.

But then the man turns and she can barely believe what she sees with her own eyes.

Well, it is Samson, but the thing is that… He's significantly younger, no longer marked by time and life full of hardships. His eyes are brighter, no longer narrowed with distrust but full of something that she could only describe as joy. He still has a stubble on his face, but his skin is smoother, no longer sickly pale. Not to mention his hair, not slicked back, lose and considerably longer.

He stands tall, looking perfectly comfortable in his templar armour.

"Oh," Servis says, the one syllable full of disbelief and shock. Calpernia takes a deep breath; she couldn't have said it better.

Samson and the mage continue talking, oblivious to the two Tevinters staring at them.

"Another one?" Samson scoffs at the paper shape in his companion's hands. "Can't you wait two days without writing another silly letter to your lady?"

"They're not silly! My heart can't wait that long. Perhaps one day you'll understand."

There's a paper bird in the mages hand. Samson grabs it and put it in a pouch on his hip.

"What if I get caught?"

The mage laughs again, patting Samson on his shoulder. "Do you think delivering letters from a lovesick mage is a serious offence? I believe Knight–Commander would be most forgiving if she found out. I mean, what's the worst thing that could happen because of some harmless letter?"

There aren't any pieces of armour on the stall, but rows of paper birds covering every inch of the surface. Calpernia blinks in confusion, and then vision is gone in an instant. Did she just imagine that or is the Fade once again playing tricks on her mind?

She remembers now, one of the songs bards play across Thedas, the one composed after the Inquisitor's nemesis was finally defeated.

I shouldn't be allowed to see this, she thinks, suddenly feeling ashamed. Just like that fateful day in the Temple of Dumat when she was so desperate, and in her imprudence she forced him to reveal one of his secrets. Perhaps his only secret.

"Who made it?" she asked him.

"A friend. He was a mage." Samson's voice was hollow.

"What happened to him?" she pressed, despite knowing she shouldn't

"I let him die for me."

Servis saw a parts of her foolish dreams and wishes, yet it didn't seem to matter that much. This, however, feels almost as if she was spying on Samson. As if she was robbing him of something he deeply cares about, of something he wants to hide from the whole world, from her as well.

"This is our chance."

Calpernia can barely register that Servis is speaking.

"Get ready to… well, I don't know what," he continues, "but I imagine it'll all go to shit pretty quickly once we intervene."

"Servis… stop!"

She wants to grab him but he's already out of her reach. Calpernia watches, completely paralysed, as Servis walks straight to the templar and the mage.

"Samson! I never thought I'd say this but it's good to see you."

Servis tries to be his regular self, yet she notices the uncertainty in his voice. He lacks his usual confidence, cautious not to get too close to the templar.

Samson stares at him, confused. "I know you? Are you… a mage? I've never seen you in the Gallows."

"The Gallows, yes, what a wonderful name," Servis forces a laugh. "But to answer your question, you do know me. It's all awfully confusing, and I'm afraid we don't have time for explaining it now. But it will be great if you just try to remember me."

"Who in the void are you?" Samson growls.

Calpernia knows this tone; it's incredible how little he changed although he looks so different. The mage glances at Servis curiously, the smile never living his lips.

"Crassius Servis at your service. Perhaps you remember this line? After everything that happened, it seems like we met ages ago."

Calpernia forces herself to move and react before Servis' carless blabbing gets them in even more trouble. Once she stands by his side Samson gives her a look full of distrust, and the sheer intensity of his glare nearly makes her take a step back.

"You're not from around here, are you?" he asks, his eyes narrowed. "How did you get in here? Go back to Hightown, this isn't a place for people like you."

"For people like us? You mean mages?"

Calpernia resists the urge to hit Servis, cursing his impulsiveness in her thoughts. She quickly glances around to see if the other templars still pay no attention to them. Much to her surprise, there's no one around, the place deserted. If anything, this only makes her more anxious.

"Mages?" Samson's hand is on the pommel of his sword. "You're here to meet with the Grand Enchanter? What Circle are you from?"

Servis opens his lips, though Calpernia's quicker, speaking before he can make the situation even more awkward.

"It doesn't matter. This isn't real. We're here to get you out."

Samson gives her a confused look. It's odd, seeing him so different. Perhaps this is how he would continue to live if things that led him to the Elder One, and to red lyrium, didn't happen.

Are you happy?, she wants to asks, but she knows he's not, because this is merely a shadow of his past. She thought she was happy in her own dream, but it was an illusion.

"Get him out?" the mage asks, his eyes looking straight at Calpernia, the intensity of his gaze is unnerving. "Get him out of where?"

"That's enough, I'm talking you to Knight–Commander," Samson moves towards them with a frown on his face.

"We need to leave!" Calpernia insists, readying a spell. If she has to knock him unconscious, then so be it.

"Why would you want to leave?" comes the mage's question. This time his voice is hollow, lacking any emotions.

Samson stops and glances back at his companion, just like Calpernia and Servis sensing that something isn't right.

A line appears on the man's forehead, then blood starts pouring down his face as if an invisible knife was carving a shape on his skin. A choked gasp escapes from Samson's lips as he stares in horror at what's happening to his companion.

Blood pours down his face from a symbol of a sun carved on his forehead. Something changes in his eyes, his smile is disappears, all his will of life gone. He looks more like a dead man standing than a living person.

Servis clutches at Calpernia's arm, holding her in place. His trembling slightly, observing the spectacle in front of them, his eyes wide.

Samson takes a step back as the mages falls down on his knees, his robe soaked in blood. Resisting the urge to run, Calpernia reaches out to Samson. It's not real!, she wants to tell him. Her heart nearly broke when the illusion of her dream ended and she saw a vile demon posing as Marius. Don't believe in what you see, she opens her mouth but the words don't want to come.

Her fingertips brush the cold metal of his armour but then the whole world seems to dissolve and disappear, everything becomes blurry until Calpernia's not sure if she lost her sight or did someone cover her eyes.

But then she can see again, feel the hard floor she's lying on, and smell the smoke mixed with something foul. Fighting with a pounding in her head, she sits up to look around.

I'm back, she thinks, recognising the attic. Servis groans as he slowly gets up on his feet. She looks to her right to see Samson lying on his side. For one dreadful moment he looks dead, but then he coughs, opens his eyes, and lets out a groan of pain.

Her legs shaking, Calpernia gets up. They're back from the Fade, but their fight isn't over yet.

There are flames all around them, and it looks like the whole room is on fire. The demon itself is burning, liquid flames dripping from its body. It looks like it's formed out of lava. This is the thing Servis unleashed from that silly little box that now lays melted on the floor, rubies that once decorated it now smashed into dust.

Samson kneels down, unable to get up, exhaustion painted on his pale face. There's a hint of fear in his eyes when he looks at the fiery creature in front of them. All the smoke in the room makes it hard to breath, and he bends in half seized by a terrible cough.

Calpernia covers her eyes with her hand. The heat is unbearable but it's nothing compared to the overwhelming wave of rage the creature emits.

I almost had you. Its voice echoes in her mind, making Calpernia shiver with disgust. You shall be mine, body and soul.

The demon roars, the whole house trembles. Servis makes a sound, something like a cry of pain. Alarmed, Calpernia looks at him to check if he's alright but to her surprise he seems completely unharmed.

He grabs a statue of Andraste that fell on the floor when the demon roared. The most holy Andraste is missing her pretty head, though it doesn't seem to be a problem for Servis. Calpernia watches, completely stunned, as he throws the figure at the demon, shouting obscenities.

"My life's work is in this room!" His shouts are somehow louder that the crackling fires. "You ruined everything, you stupid piece of– "

The demon doesn't let him finish, smashing the statue in mid–air with its hand, and letting out another shriek. Servis lets out a frustrated groan.

Calpernia's body feels heavy and sore, yet she commands what's left of her power to subdue the flames before the whole house burns down. The fire doesn't want to obey her at first, but then her magic finally works and she makes the flames disappear. It's too late, everything around them is already ruined; whatever treasures Servis stored in here no longer useful.

Theres no time to contemplate the destruction around them, however. Calpernia lifts up her arm, creating a barrier of fire in front of her. Her power is almost gone, and she falls down on her knees, moaning in pain.

"Freeze it!" Samson shouts. "Do something before it burns us alive!"

A templar surely knows how to deal with demons. But what he can do without a sword? Calpernia doesn't let her thoughts distract her, concentrating on the weakening barrier in front of them.

The demon grows impatient and finally attacks, launching itself at them with its claws ready to tear them into pieces.

But before it can get any closer, a blast of ice makes it howl and stop. Servis moves forward, casting another spell, forming a ball of blue light in his hands. The gust of cold air on Calpernia's face is a blessing.

The spell hits the demon, and for a moment nothing happens. Then it starts to shrink down, shrieking as its whole body freezes in an instant, creating a horrific icy statue. Then it breaks into pieces, its body disappears in a puff of smoke, and the demon lets out one last growl. Seconds later it's completely gone, leaving behind a dark circle on the floor where it once stood. A thin layer of frost covers every possible surface, though the damage is still clearly visible.

"Thank the Maker I have a knack for elemental spells…" Servis says, panting heavily.

Calpernia wants to tell him something, but she doesn't have enough energy to speak.

"I leave the house for one moment, and come back to this…"

Calpernia, Samson and Servis turn their heads to the door where Posca stands, looking only slightly distraught.

"Everything's under control!" Servis assures, forcing a smile on his face.

"Yes, I see. Cleaning this mess will take at least two days," he lets out a sigh. "We'll talk about it later, young master. Now I need you to go to the washroom and make yourself presentable. We're expecting a guest. He'll be here any minute now."

"A guest? I didn't invite anyone!"

Posca laughs, and when he looks at Servis there's something like pity in his eyes. "No, you didn't, young master, but the person who's coming doesn't need an invitation. He invited himself, just like I told you he would."

In a heartbeat Servis gets considerably paler, staring wordlessly at the man.

"You're telling me…" he blurts out after a beat.

"Yes, master Tristan is coming. He's come to the city for the upcoming celebrations of Funalis. I'm sure he'll tell you everything. Once he stops yelling at you for not contacting him sooner."

Calpernia exchanges a look with Samson. He doesn't seem so annoyed at her anymore, quite contrary – he seems as confused as she is, understanding exactly nothing of the conversation between Posca and Servis.

One thing is clear, they won't have enough time to get some rest before the man Servis seems to fear so much comes to the house.

A/N: I had problems with this chapters, mainly because of some personal issues. Complete lack of motivation didn't help.

My plan is to post about three more chapters by the end of this year, then put this story on hiatus so I can think everything through.

Feedback is, as always, much appreciated.