A/N: I'm a bit behind my usual due to the hellish week I had and the resulting mental burnout funk where I didn't want to write and did nothing but played the Sims and watched movies. But now I'm seeing my lead on you guys vanish so I'd better get my butt moving!


Twenty-Nine

The Abyss (Part One): Somniari


Rosa fell in step with Solas as they began to search around the area. The raw Fade was not as shocking to her as she knew it should have been. Like Solas, she'd seen this before when banishing dreams away. Somehow, disturbingly, Solas had made a good show of pretending to find it amazing, as though he'd never seen it before. Maybe it was just the realization that they were here physically that let him be so convincing? She hoped so.

The sandy, wet marsh stank of plant decay and salt, a scent that hadn't been as pungent in her dreams. When they were apart from the others, Rosa asked in elven, "Is the Formless One here? Does it have Tal?"

Solas nodded, his expression grave as he surveyed the grayish rock outcrop in front of them, to the side of the stairs. The sounds of fighting echoed from the stones and the marsh around them and Rosa twisted to see that Hawke, Stroud, and Blackwall had taken on a wraith that seemed only halfheartedly interested in attacking them. Their blades made short work of it, dissolving the spirit away. Rosa suspected it was more their will that killed the hostile spirit, rather than their blades.

"Will it hurt him, do you think?" Rosa asked, her voice strangled with the cold fear clutching at her throat. It dulled even that blissful song that coursed in her blood. She felt…drugged. She should have been able to feel the presence of the wraiths—not to mention the fucking Formless One! Instead her connection to the Fade felt unsteady, though it hadn't stopped the swelling of her mana core and the euphoric sensation pulsating through her. It was the same feeling she'd experienced in the dark future at Redcliffe.

Solas frowned, glancing at her and then away again. He lifted one palm and touched the wet stone in front of them, running one thumb over it. "More likely it will attempt to trick him. The Formless One and its brethren are complex beings that were once flesh. They respect choice above all else and rarely use coercion to achieve their ends."

There was something in his voice that made Rosa's skin dimple with gooseflesh. She tried to summon up her truthsaying talent, to feel any lies, and then said, "You respect it. Admire it, even."

Instead of appearing alarmed or insulted as she'd expected, Solas merely nodded. "As I respect any worthy enemy." Turning his head slightly, he smiled. "To do any less is to invite defeat before the battle has even begun. And I do admire any foe that refuses to use coercion through torture or blood magic."

"Manipulation and emotional extortion aren't much better." Fidgeting with anxiousness, Rosa reached out and grabbed Solas' bicep, squeezing hard. "You really think he's safe here?" she said, almost scoffing with her own disbelief. "Didn't you tell me a few weeks ago that no matter what, you and I couldn't face the Formless One or any of its brethren in the flesh like this?"

Solas nodded somberly. "I did, yes. I believed that, at the time. Yet the Formless One may have no need to collect your blood, or Tal's, if it has already taken Felassan's." His jaw clenched. "It still requires mine and it may use you and Tal in some way to coerce me into giving freely what it desires."

"But we don't know that it killed lenalin," Rosa protested as the vise around her chest seemed to tighten even more. "It could be stalking Tal right now—killing him." She stared at his hand then on the stone and drew in a shaking breath. "I need to go after him. Now. I don't care if the others see what I am if it means saving my brother."

"No," Solas told her firmly, turning and reaching to grasp her shoulders. "Allow me, Rosa. There is a chance the Formless One will barter with me, or that I may snatch Tal away through subterfuge. I have…information it requires to free its masters. In addition, it may have found Tal's blood is too dilute for its needs—assuming it has not taken Felassan's blood and merely holds Tal to entrap us."

Gripping his hand on her shoulder, Rosa squeezed tight, searching over his face. "If it wants you for sure then it should be me who goes."

Solas shook his head. "You are too valuable to Thedas." His other hand reached down and grabbed her left one, pressing along her palm where the Anchor lay hidden. "You must save this world from Corypheus." His smile was soft and sad. "You do not truly require me to accomplish that."

"Nugshit," Rosa snapped and then grabbed his collar with both hands, pulling him forcefully down to her. He didn't resist, moving to kiss her with the same fire she felt. His lips were warm and salty, his mouth hot and with a sharp mineral taste. It was over far too soon as Solas pushed back from her, nostrils flaring and his breath already too fast—matching hers.

"I will return with Tal as quickly as I am able," he promised.

"You'd better," she retorted, mustering a smile through the tightness in her chest. Both men she loved would be gone if Solas failed.

A rumble from a nervous clearing of a throat made them separate suddenly, feet squelching in the sand and splattering in a puddle. Dorian stood a few meters away, a small but tense smile over his lips. "Sorry for interrupting," he said, though he didn't sound at all contrite. "But it appears there's no other path except this one up the stairs."

Sucking in a breath, Rosa nodded. "Then that's the way we'll go." Looking to Solas, she switched to elven. "Safe journey…vhenan."

Solas smiled at her, tender and affectionate despite Dorian's presence. Then he strode off to walk past where Blackwall, Hawke and Stroud stood about, scuffing at the dirt or examining their weapons in a show of patience. Rosa felt her cheeks burning as she wondered how long these men had been watching her and Solas. Pushing that thought aside, Rosa called to them in her best authoritative voice, "We're going to ford on ahead. Solas is going to try and find Tal."

Hawke snorted, turning slightly to watch as Solas rounded a corner in the marsh, nearly out of sight already. "Alone? What can he do? There's nothing out that way but more stone. We're hemmed in here."

Stroud cleared his throat. "With respect, Inquisitor, we cannot spare anyone. We do not know what we may face ahead."

Rosa narrowed her eyes at him, glaring. "Are you suggesting I leave my brother to die here?" Motioning in the direction Solas had walked away in, she said, "Solas volunteered to go after him and if there's anyone who has a chance of finding Tal and bringing him back, it'll be Solas, my Fade expert."

"Aye," Blackwall said, shooting Hawke and Stroud stern looks. "We can't just leave the lad. Solas volunteered to go. I'm sure he will find him and then reach us before it's too late."

"Thank you, Blackwall," Rosa said, smiling warmly in his direction. "That was my hope, exactly." Turning round, she indicated the stairs with a sweep of her hand. "Shall we be on our way then?"


Tal woke with a gasp, jerking his head off the damp sand under him. He spat, grimacing at the foul taste in the air. It smelled of something caustic and metallic, like blood or copper. For a second he flashed back to the time he'd snuck into his birth clan's Keeper's aravel to leave skunk stink glands in the other man's cookware. On that prank mission he'd discovered a pendant made of copper hanging in the aravel and had decided to leave his own personal mark on it by mouthing it to make some of the paint run off it. The air here tasted a lot like that pendant.

Where am I? Tal thought as he hauled himself to his feet and stared at the gray rock ahead of him. It glistened in the greenish light, wet with dew or rain or…something. Tawny grasses swayed in a gentle breeze that made Tal think again of the Dales, where he'd spent most of his life with clan Ghilath. A little pool stood off to his right, lapping against the gray rock wall. The water was oddly black and a greenish mist hung over it.

Tal shuddered with the warmth churning through his blood. Wriggling his fingers, he summoned fire into both hands and grinned with visceral enjoyment. Calling magic always felt pleasant but now it was, well, almost sexual.

Weird.

Turning round, Tal saw the gray wall of rock extended in a circular shape, curling unevenly off to his left and right. Tal frowned, wondering how he had come to this place. His mind was foggy, as if he'd just woken from a long, deep sleep after a night of heavy drinking. Was this a dream? It felt like one and yet also didn't. In a dream Tal had learned his magic always felt dull, distant. He could still cast but it was more a willpower trick than actual magic because his body was asleep outside of the Fade and this was only his spirit, his mind. His core felt very much here currently, which suggested this was reality and he was awake.

Staring up, Tal saw the sky was washed out and dim, as though the sun was setting but the craggy gray rocks obscured it and threw him into shadow. But, as Tal craned his neck even more he saw the Black City and froze, inhaling sharply. The tiny lights in the distant, eerie windows glittered out at him.

"Mythal have mercy," he muttered, shaking his head. "I guess I am dreaming."

A familiar chuckling cut through his thoughts and Tal spun around to see the man standing in the narrow, sandy path behind him. The hooded man stood with his hip leaning against a boulder encroaching on the path and his arms crossed over his chest. His staff stuck up over his shoulder, made of elegantly carved wood.

Tal stiffened and his chest tightened with old grief. "You're dead." He let his voice change over into a growl. "You're a demon."

The man clucked his tongue and casually dropped his hood back to reveal pale blond hair and violet eyes. Mythal's vallaslin twined over his forehead, around his eyes, and down onto his chin. "Am I now?" the demon replied with a smirking smile. "And here I thought I was just a projection of your memories to fill this dream."

Grabbing his own staff from his back, Tal squared his shoulders and stiffened his spine. "Step aside, demon."

The man pushed off the boulder. "I have a name, ishalen. Several of them, in fact."

Tal let out an irritated hiss though his clenched teeth. "You're not worthy of his shape or any of his names, demon."

Walking forward, tense as he passed the masquerading demon, he started forward on the sandy path. It led downward slightly, glistening in the low light with dew. A faint green mist obscured the path ahead, as did a sharp corner. He expected the demon to lash out at him as he passed, but the demon merely watched him with smiling violet eyes. It was only when Tal was beyond the demon by a few steps that it finally spoke again.

"You're really going to leave without finding out how I died?"

Tal stopped mid-step. Chewing his lip, he reached in to his core, considering tossing a barrier up over himself, and felt again how present it was. Was this really a dream? But what else could it be, considering just who was speaking to him now?

Spinning round, Tal glared at the man. "What price would you ask, demon?"

The man shook his head, still smiling. "There is no price, ishalen."

"Don't call me that," Tal snapped, hands fisting at his sides. "I'm not your son."

The demon kept up its unblinking stare, the edges of his mouth still smiling. "Is that an way to speak to your babae?"

"Don't play these nugshit games with me, demon," Tal snarled, lifting his staff and dropping into a battle ready stance. "It won't work."

Felassan spread his arms wide, as if he wanted Tal to hug him. "You think I intend you harm, child? How could I? You are my only son. We were always a team, you and I. We protected your mamae against that harebrained Keeper. You taught me how to identify spindleweed even though I was a terrible student." He had taken a few steps closer as he spoke and now was near enough that he could touch Tal if he just extended his arm…

Tal erected a barrier over himself and summoned fire into his fists. It roared, energetic and more powerful than he'd intended. He kept his surprise from showing with an effort as he squared off with the demon, letting it see his strength. "Don't come any closer, demon."

Felassan halted. The friendly expression didn't waver, but his violet eyes were sad as they reflected the orange-red of Tal's flames. "I see you still enjoy fire. I taught you that." His brow furrowed with pain. "Have you forgotten me so easily, ishalen?"

"You're not my father!" Tal shouted, gritting his teeth. Still, the demon's words made his eyes sting and his throat became tight. He swallowed hard, trying to push that emotion away. This was a demon, or possibly a spirit, and this was a very strange, very real dream.

The man's sad eyes continued to bore into Tal. "Have you forgotten me so easily, Talassan, that you would refuse the chance to avenge my murder?"

"What?" Tal spluttered with shock. "Murder? You were—" He scowled and looked away, irritated with himself for the stupid slip. Still, he couldn't stop himself from finishing the question. "My father was murdered?"

Felassan nodded somberly. "Yes, child." He sighed then, turning his head and staring off at the rocks and the sand back in the direction of where Tal had first awoken. Abandoning the pretense of actually being Felassan, the creature wearing his shape now said, "He was indeed murdered. His killer still lives, as well. Felassan's spirit calls out for vengeance. He died unfulfilled, you know, trying to protect you and your sister from a powerful enemy that is hunting you, though you know it not."

Tal shifting from foot to foot, anxious as his stomach twisted and his throat ached with mixed reactions. This was anything but smart, but knowing nothing about what had happened to his father had been difficult. Tal sometimes had dreams where he watched his father be torn apart by wild animals or carved up by depraved humans. Usually Tal spent those dreams feverishly trying to reach his father. He wanted to save him but always knew he'd fail. Still, he tried because if he could just speak with his father again he could have some closure. He would tell Felassan he loved him, that he forgave him for abandoning him and Rosa. He would also tell Felassan that Rosa forgave him, missed him, had loved him more than she knew.

But there was no chance of that ever again.

The creature in front of him smiled wider now with amusement. He chuckled as he said, "I can hear your thoughts, child, and you're wrong. There is a way to speak with him once more."

Tal scoffed. "Get bent," he said, using one of Sera's phrases. Refreshing his barrier, he started to back up to put more distance between himself and this thing pretending to be his father.

Felassan grinned now and turned to keep facing Tal as he moved further away. "Have you already forgotten who you are?" Lowering his violet eyes, he spoke in a deeper voice, rumbling. "Child of Falon'Din."

Tal froze, forgetting to breathe for a moment.

"Hmmm," Felassan hummed, still grinning. "You're intrigued. Good. I can see the curiosity inside you. You've been wondering what you can do with that new talent in your blood. You can feel it is not just necromancy magic but something much, much more. I can tell you how to reach your full potential. I can feel that you're strong enough to bring back Felassan's soul."

"Piss off," Tal snapped, snarling. "That's not possible…"

"According to whom? The Chantry? Andraste? The Maker?" Not-Felassan laughed, eyes glittering with amusement. "Aren't they the same fools who say magic is evil? Aren't they the same barbarians who would kill your sister if they knew she had been possessed?"

Breathing hard and fast with his nervousness now, Tal shouted, "What do you want, demon?"

"I want only to see that your father's murderer is punished," Not-Felassan said, seriously. "He has committed many wrongs and I would see him punished. Beyond that, I wish to see you side with me and my ilk in the struggle to come."

"You're full of nugshit," Tal grumbled. "I'm not buying that for a second—and there's zero chance I'd serve you or your ilk."

The demon's smile returned, wide and knowing and smug. "But you are interested. I am confident you will choose to follow my guidance out of curiosity alone. It does not matter that you doubt my sincerity. I will prove myself to you in the end and you will then be in my debt." He shook his head as he sobered up again. "But there is no price for this. My reward will simply be in seeing your father's killer destroyed."

Tal remained where he was, frozen. An inner voice that sounded like Rosa shouted at him to refuse and run. To go, now, for his own good. The demon would trick him somehow. That was what they always did. Yet, despite that voice Tal found himself rooted to the spot and the demon's smile broadened. It knew it had him.

"Very well," Not-Felassan said. "You will need four things to summon your father's soul: the talent in your blood, the correct place to conduct the ritual, and two Elvhen artifacts."

And as Tal listened to the demon describe where he must go and everything he must do, he knew he wouldn't be able to turn his back on this task. He had shirked responsibility many shameful times before. He had fled his new clan, shrugging off the title of First. When he'd joined Rosa he'd left his mother to fend for herself under clan Ghilath's overbearing Keeper. He had chosen to numb his pain and shame with wine rather than face, confess, or remember his shortcomings.

But with this...avenging his father…this he could do.


Jogging up the short stairs and over the first gray stone of the outcropping that had hemmed them in below, Rosa was the first to see it. Her. A figure stood in white against the next grayish rock wall. Her robes were clean, although wet like everything else here in the dankness of the raw Fade. The tall hat, broadening out as it rose, cut a powerful profile. Rosa tensed, knowing this Chantry woman had to be a demon masquerading, but—she froze as recognition dawned.

"Divine Justinia?" she asked in a near-gasp. The others in her group spilled around her, gawking as they too took in the Chantry's holiest person.

"By the Maker," Stroud said breathily. "Could that be…?"

The would-be Divine addressed them then, "I greet you, Warden. And you, Champion." She gave a little dip of her head that somehow didn't disturb her enormous headgear. "And you, Inquisitor."

Rosa frowned, deciding to quickly dispel the others' reverent shock. "This cannot be the Divine. It's impossible. She's got to be a spirit or a demon that's taken her shape." When she saw Hawke, Stroud, and Blackwall still staring with astonishment, she changed tactics, using logic. "The real Divine couldn't possibly know about my title. She didn't know me at all. I was just a hired guard at the temple."

"You're right, Inquisitor," Stroud said, though he still stared as though he believed it really was the Divine. "I fear we face a spirit…or a demon."

"You can sense demons," Hawke said, shooting her a speculative look. "At least, that's what the tales I've heard say."

Rosa grimaced. "I…" She cursed herself for taking Solas' potion. She'd been comfortable throughout the battle, it was true, but this unforeseen downside kept biting her right in the ass. Sticking with the truth, she said, "I can't sense anything here. The Fade is affecting me."

"Proving my existence either way would require time we do not have," Justinia said. Her voice was soft and even, laced with a thick Orlesian accent, but Rosa imagined the words should have been a chastisement. "I am here to help you. You do not remember what happened to you at the temple of Sacred Ashes, Inquisitor," she said, looking now to Rosa. "I know your title because I have examined memories like yours, stolen by the demon that serves Corypheus."

The Formless One? Rosa wondered but kept her lips sealed. The Divine went on, offering an explanation without Rosa having to ask.

"It is the nightmare you forget upon waking. It feeds off memories of fear and darkness, growing fat upon the terror. The false Calling that terrified the Wardens into making such grave mistakes? Its work."

"I would gladly avenge the insult this nightmare dealt my brethren," Stroud said, scowling now.

"You will have your chance, brave Warden," the Divine said and then confirmed what Rosa had already begun to expect. "This place of darkness is its lair."

"This is the big demon that rat bastard Livius was trying to bring through," Rosa guessed, grumbling. "When I get out of here I am going to personally gut that sniveling weasel with a rusty, dull knife." Dorian snorted behind her and Blackwall let out a small chuckle that he stifled.

"When you entered the Fade at Haven, the demon took a part of you. Before you do anything else, you must recover it." The Divine turned and motioned past herself toward a greenish barrier that blocked their path ahead and a stagnant pool bordered by rocks. "These are your memories, Inquisitor." At her beckoning wraiths appeared from the water and the Fade ether, green and semi-transparent. They did not attack but merely floated about, aimless.

"Okay," Rosa murmured. "We have to kill the wraiths holding my memories in their essence, I guess."

Charging forward, splattering into the pool, Rosa came upon the first wraith and it flung harmful spirit energy at her. She dodged and then reached out with her left hand to cast a fireball. The wraith immediately exploded in flames, dissolving away. The fire continued to roar, more powerful than Rosa had intended.

Hearing Hawke and Stroud charging forward to take on the next nearest wraith, Rosa lifted her hand in a stop motion. "Hold back," she called to them. "I've got this." The last time she had fought when her magic was this volatile and plentiful she'd unleashed enough power to break red lyrium stalagtites and stone off onto her companions. The Fade might not be as breakable as the real world without a Dreamer's will to actually rewrite it, but she didn't want to take the chance of injuring one of the warriors.

Tossing a barrier over herself—and feeling how surprisingly heavy it was, stronger than her normal—she ran to be in the midst of the remaining three wraiths. "Come on, take me!" she yelled at them.

The wraiths hissed as they sailed closer to her, flinging their rudimentary arms to send spirit magic balls at her. The blows hit her barrier and broke, harmless. Her barrier barely flickered at the impacts. Grinning with the pleasure still bubbling through her at how wonderful casting felt, Rosa closed her eyes and let out a mindblast. The spirit energy bubble flew out from around her, hitting the remaining wraiths and dissolving them on contact. The spell rippled the water as it rolled over it and struck the rock boulders and walls with a loud boom!

She opened her eyes in time to see the others staring at her with varying expressions of wariness, amusement, confusion, and irritation. Clearing her throat, she started to apologize for the strength of the spell only to think better of it and then just turn to the nearest green orb floating about nearby. She waved her hand through it a few times, trying to pull it into herself by will alone. It resisted for a moment and then flowed into her. For a moment she felt dizzy and all she saw was green—but then, through it, she heard Corypheus' voice: "Bring forth the sacrifice."

"What happened?" Hawke asked from where he stood with the others on the boulder near the so-called Divine.

With a shake of her head, Rosa said, "I just heard a voice. Corypheus. He was talking about a sacrifice."

"Listen to more," Blackwall suggested.

Rosa moved to the next orb, feet sloshing through the water, and held out her hand. The orb disappeared into her and this time she heard the Divine's voice, shouting: "Run while you can, warn them!" At the next orb she heard herself say, "What's going on here?"

As she stumbled toward the last orb, she felt images begin to snap into place in her brain. She shivered as she felt the extreme cold of the temple, high in the Frostbacks where full summer barely touched. She felt again the different weight of the mercenary armor she'd worn and remembered the voice of her Tal-Vashoth friend Kaaras echoing in her head.

"I thought you were freezing your tits off out here and couldn't wait to leave."

"I saw Grey Wardens," she heard herself say and, suddenly remembered that she had indeed seen that. She'd been walking through the temple, heading to the exit to save Mahanon from winding up a horn decoration on Herah's head. She'd seen them come by, brilliant in their gray and blue armor, emblazoned with griffins.

And she'd felt the orb with them. She'd felt it.

And she'd gone back to follow them after sending Mahanon down to Haven, inadvertently saving his life and condemning Kaaras, who otherwise would have gone to Haven instead.

Now she remembered working her way through the temple. No one gave her a second look even though she wore a stave on her back. The vallaslin and the mercenary uniform made her invisible. She belonged. It had done nothing to lessen the anxiety twining its grubby hands around her stomach and her throat. Every day at the Conclave she'd been afraid some Templar from the Hasmal Circle would see her and find a way to apprehend her, take her freedom away again.

She found no trace of the Wardens in the courtyard where the Templars and mages stood about braziers, warming their hands in various cliques. With nowhere else to look, Rosa followed her inner senses toward that eerie, heavy shadow at the edge of her consciousness that she recognized as Solas' orb. Those senses took her to the enormous doorway leading to the chambers where Divine Justinia had held her talks with the leaders of both mages and Templars. Rosa had stopped there, deciding she would wait until the Divine finished her audience with the Grey Wardens. Because that must be what was happening in there…

But then she had heard the Divine cry out, pleading that someone intervene. So she had, bursting through the door to see a monster holding Solas' orb, which glowed green. The Divine was in the air, suspended by Warden mages doing blood magic. She looked pained, but still aware and proud as the misshapen beast—that she now knew was Corypheus—positioned the orb over her chest, drawing the power of the Divine's own blood out and into the orb.

The shock of being interrupted had made Corypheus—or maybe it was the Wardens holding the Divine—sloppy. The Divine managed to twist her body and knock the orb out of Corypheus' grasp. It flew away, sparking with green energy, building with a high-pitched whine.

Rosa could feel the Veil twisting, warping. The magic of the orb prickled her skin with a mixture of pain and pleasure. She remembered Solas' warning that the orb could cause immense destruction if misused by blundering mages trying to unlock it. Was this what that blundering would look like?

Dirthamen guide me. Mythal protect me…

She felt Rogathe pressing on the Veil, rushing to aid her if she called it. She didn't, knowing that the last thing she needed was to expose herself as a so-called maleficarum.

She sprang for the orb, mind spinning with ideas on how she might dispel and disarm it. Perhaps she could absorb the magic building in it inside of herself? Then it wouldn't explode or—

Pain exploded in her left hand and the muscles seized, contracting in a bone-crushing grip. Rosa screamed, all conscious thought fleeing. She pawed at the orb with her right hand, trying to knock it away as she felt the scorching power flowing into her, up her arm to the elbow.

Then everything went white-green and a roaring explosion echoed in her ears.

Gasping, Rosa came out of the memory, breathing hard and shaking. Her left hand crackled and she shook it, gritting her teeth as the pain faded.

"Inquisitor!"

She heard splashing as the others rushed to help her. Hands clutched at her arms, supporting her. She shrugged them off, shaking her head. "I'm all right. It's fine."

"What did you see?" Dorian asked, pressing close.

"Just…" She drew in several deep breaths. "I saw Grey Wardens entering the temple before the attack. I wanted to talk to them, so I followed them. And…" She turned round, water sloshing at her feet, and stared at the spirit-Divine. "They attacked the Divine. She was going to be the blood sacrifice for Corypheus so he could open the orb he carries—the one that tore open the Veil and caused the breach. I interrupted the ritual and she…" Rosa pointed to the Divine. "She knocked it out of his hand and it rolled to me and so I…" Raising her left hand, she mimed holding it. Her mark continued to crackle, alive for the moment and aching. "I picked it up. And that's when the explosion happened."

"Your mark didn't come from Andraste then," Stroud said, matter-of-factly.

"Yes," the Divine agreed. "When you disrupted Corypheus' plan, the orb bestowed the Anchor upon you instead."

Blackwall was the first to react now. "Truly?" he asked, sounding disappointed but also skeptical.

Rosa shot him a mild glare. "I've always insisted I wasn't divinely touched." Shrugging, she motioned at her body and then specifically at her left hand. "I didn't ask for any of this. It was always other people who called me their Herald."

"There was, however, that time in Redcliffe when we traveled to the future and you claimed the mark was what gave you such sudden power—much like the kind we just witnessed a moment ago." Dorian tweaked his mustache as he spoke, smirking at her with an expression that was somehow both smugly amused and suspicious. "And there was that moment when you parted the bloody wall in front of us."

Grimacing, Rosa shook her head. "You're going to bring that up now, Dorian? Really?"

"What is he talking about?" Hawke asked, scowling with confusion.

Ignoring Hawke's question, Rosa jabbed a finger at Dorian with irritation. "Look, we can talk about this later, but let's get one thing straight Tevinter. I have never come out saying Andraste blessed me. I have let people believe it when it helps me, but I've never even pretended I believe in the Chant. I am Dalish. That means I believe in a bunch of elves my people say created the world. But you know what? I wouldn't even say I was touched by one of them." She lifted her left hand where the Anchor still glowed green. "I'm just an unlucky little knife-ear who was at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I'd actually think it was the right place at the right time," Hawke put in with a tight chuckle.

"The Inquisitor's right," Stroud said. "We don't have time for this infighting."

"You cannot escape the lair of the nightmare until you regain all that it took from you," The spirit-Divine put in then, making everyone turn to regard her again. "You have recovered some of yourself, but now it knows you are here. You must make haste. I will prepare the way ahead."

As if on cue, Rosa saw the green barrier further down the path fluctuate and then disappear with a little burst of color and mist. When she looked back to the Divine, Rosa saw she was gone. With a little huff, Rosa started walking down the path, her feet splashing between puddle and then crunching on the wet sand. "C'mon everyone. Let's get moving."

Hawke and Stroud bickered behind her as they set off, arguing about the involvement of the Grey Wardens. Had Corypheus taken their minds or did they serve willingly? Did it really matter? It was obvious they were a threat simply because they were so vulnerable to Corypheus to begin with. Rosa tuned them out.

A short ways down the path they found a staircase and two shades waiting for them. Rosa was in the lead and, with minimal effort, flung two fireballs at them. The shades groaned and shrieked as they almost immediately dissolved under the intensity of her mage fire. The warriors around her had barely had time to unsheathe their blades. Rosa could feel their stares on her back, scrutinizing her with newfound interest. They had fought with her mere hours before and had seen nothing this powerful then.

Rosa found she couldn't bring herself to care enough to hide it. She had other things to worry about—like when her sense of the Fade would recover and stop being so dull. She tried repeatedly to reach out, feeling the Fade connect with her core, but the sense she usually had of demons and sleepers and other Dreamers was numb. She felt nothing at all. There were no shadows, no weighty sensations at the edges of her mind. Solas should have been out there, a powerful presence she knew well. Tal would be familiar too and there were two strong demons nearby, both probably ancient. Yet, for all her effort, Rosa sensed nothing.

After a few more stairwells, both up and down, Rosa reached a pool surrounded by statues of what she thought might be hawks in gold, as well as some Tevinter statues. A few shades and wraiths lingered about idly. Rosa stopped short of the water and spun her staff, casting chain lightning. The purple-white energy arced between the demons, making them twitch and convulse before all of them collapsed and dissolved into the water.

Dorian clucked his tongue. "You're really going to have to tell me your secret," he said and she didn't miss the seriousness in his tone.

Rosa pretended she hadn't heard him as she stepped off into the water with a splash. The others followed her, fanning out to examine the area briefly while Rosa hurried ahead to the dry land on the far side where another stairwell waited. But as she set foot on the stone she heard a deep, rumbling voice echo around her and halted, spinning as she tried to locate it.

"Ah," the voice said. "We have a visitor. Some silly little girl has come to steal the fear I so kindly lifted from her shoulders. You should have thanked me and left your fear where it lay, forgotten. You think the pain will make you stronger? What fool filled your mind with such drivel? The only one who grows stronger from your fears is me."

Hawke, Stroud, and Blackwall had all drawn their weapons and stood about, searching the Fade for any sign of the speaker. Dorian had his stave out but was apparently distracted examining one of the Tevinter statues, running a hand over its surface and squinting as though there was something to read on its surface.

"Maker," Blackwall said, spinning in a circle. "Where is that voice coming from?"

"It must be the demon," Hawke guessed. "Ignore it."

"But you are a guest here in my home," the demon went on, sounding annoyed. "So by all means, let me return what you have forgotten."

Then, suddenly, Blackwall let out a yelp as he took a step and fell. The water splashed, closing over his head and hiding every last trace of him. Stroud, who he'd been standing next to, rushed over to try and help him. Hawke did the same thing, both men stooping in the thigh-high water and groping about, splattering water. Stroud pulled up Blackwall's blade, glistening wetly and with a slick layer of slimy mud.

"I might have him!" Hawke shouted and heaved with a grunt, only to stumble back and barely catch himself. He was clasping Blackwall's shield in both hands and blinking dazedly.

"Kaffas," Dorian cursed, sloshing his way over to the two warriors. "He went down right there. How hard can it be to—" Mid-sentence Dorian slipped and went under as well with a wild splatter and a misting of greenish ether.

Watching this, Rosa let out a curse of her own. "Fenedhis!" Sprinting to the base of the stairs, she shouted at Hawke and Stroud. "Get out of the water! Get out and—" As her own foot went off the solid stone and into the oily pool she felt herself be sucked down. The muddy bottom was no longer there and she went straight down, slapping the water with both hands. Her stave caught on the bottom and the impact was so strong that it shocked her into releasing her hold on it.

Darkness filled her eyes and pressure built in her ears and lungs.

No, she thought as rage blasted away her initial fear. I refuse to let this happen.

Reaching out with both her hands and her internal senses, Rosa connected with the Fade. Physically, her hands clawed against stone and muck. Her fingernails broke, sending shooting pains into the quick as pebbles and grit found their way beneath each nail. She gritted her teeth, concentrating, and felt the Fade snap into her grasp.

Air, she commanded it. Lift the waters and give me air. Take me from this dark hole. Return my friends to me. Now!

The mana drained from her, flowing out of her like blood from an artery. The shock of it left her at the edge of gasping as what was pleasant warmth at first became hot and burning. Dizziness swelled in her head, but she knew it was working. Light flooded her senses and the water sloshed and drained away. The solidness of the slimy walls around her vanished. She fell, shaking, onto her knees and coughed.

Lifting her head, Rosa saw that she was on damp gray stone. The area around her had not changed much, but the water was gone now and Blackwall and Dorian were back, spluttering and wet and coughing—but alive and whole. Dorian looked like a disgruntled wet cat, flicking water from his sleeves and sneering with disgust as he plucked what might've been seaweed off himself.

"Kaffas," he cursed again, coughing. "Maker—what was that?"

Blackwall was sitting up with Hawke and Stroud's help, breathing raggedly. "Something pulled me," he said, blue eyes wide with horror. "I saw—I mean, I thought I was back in training when I was a soldier. I almost drowned as a new recruit."

"Marvelous," Dorian grumbled. "The nightmare seems to have a drowning fetish."

"Drowning is one of the worst ways to die," Hawke said.

"What drained the water away?" Stroud asked, shaking his head in puzzlement.

Rosa had begun to recover her mana, though she was still shivering. She had not gone into burnout with the reshaping but it had flowed from her so strongly she'd tried to strangle the draw in self-preservation. She had the sense that the…reshaping had not completed entirely. Glancing up at the sky, Rosa saw it had changed from the ugly greenish-orange of the Fade to a washed out blue, as if they were in the real world. The Black City still figured prominently on the horizon, but the Fade had been trying to change into something else. Somewhere else.

"I believe I might have an answer for that," Dorian said, getting to his feet and fastidiously slapping at his wet robes. "Inquisitor?" he called.

The sound of her title made Rosa lift her head. She arched one brow. "Dorian?"

The Tevinter mage crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at her in a way that was both suspicious and…something else. Intrigued? Amused? She wasn't sure. "Tell me something," he said with that dangerous little smile on his handsome lips. "Have you ever heard of a Somniari?"

"No," Rosa said, scowling. She got to her feet, scraping away a lock of wet hair that was plastered to her face. Her stomach cinched tight. "We need to get moving." Turning away, she started for the stairs, eager to press on.

"I've heard of them," Hawke said. "What are you saying, Dorian? You think the Inquisitor is…?"

"Yes, I do," the mage replied curtly. Calling to Rosa, he said, "You should have heard of them, Inquisitor." His soggy steps followed her as he jogged for the stairs. Further back Rosa heard the jangle of Stroud, Hawke, and Blackwall's armor also tailing her. "Because if I'm not mistaken—and I rarely am—you are a Somniari."

Rosa halted at the top of the stairs, breathing hard. Her hands opened and closed at her side for a few heartbeats before she whipped around to glare at Dorian. "What are you talking about?"

But she thought she already knew. She tried not to let her trepidation show as she put her hands on her hips and frowned down at the other mage. "We really don't have time for—"

"A Somniari is a Dreamer mage," Dorian interrupted her, gesturing at the Fade. "They reshape the Fade and enter it at will. " His eyes darted over her face and then he let out a little high-pitched chuckle that was almost a titter as he hurried up the stairs to reach her. "It makes perfect sense. I can't believe it took me this long to see it. You are a Somniari." He grinned at her, brown eyes bright as he laid his hands on her shoulders. "Inquisitor—Rosa—you can—"

Shrugging out of his touch, Rosa took a few steps backward. "Stop it, Dorian," she said through clenched teeth.

He shook his head, clearly confused. "Inquisitor, why are you—"

"Maybe you're not familiar with the way things are here in the south," Rosa snapped, keeping her voice low and sneaking a quick look over at Blackwall, Stroud, and Hawke. The other men were close enough they might overhear, but Dorian had already opened this can of worms in front of them. Rosa had no hope of concealing it any longer. "Dreamers aren't exactly welcomed with open arms. We're made Tranquil more often than not and I was in a Circle that would have done that to me if they'd known."

Dorian opened his mouth and his expression opened with understanding. "Ah, I see. My sincerest apologies then. I'd thought perhaps you hadn't realized your talent." Lips quirking up and then down, Dorian cleared his throat before adding, "Regardless, surely you must see we need you to use your talent."

"Changing a dream is much easier than changing the Fade physically," Rosa admitted, pinching her lips together and look away, down to Stroud, Blackwall, and Hawke.

"You are a Dreamer then," Hawke said, smiling tightly. "And you can control your talents? You're not plagued by demons and nightmares?"

Rosa snorted. "I didn't say that—but I am in control of them and I can handle the nightmares and the demons."

Hawke nodded. "I met an elf-blooded lad named Feynriel in Kirkwall. He was half-Dalish. He was a Dreamer but demons stalked him. I helped him as much as I could but ultimately we had to send him to Tevinter. Not even the Dalish could help him."

"Well, my clan could've helped him," she half-lied with a dismissive shrug, hiding how interesting Hawke's mentioning of this Feynriel actually was.

"I wish I'd known that then," Hawke said with a rueful grin. "Considering I had to save him from slavery once. I was worried he'd wind up a slave no matter what he did. Tranquil or Tevinter slave. I can't say which is worse."

Dorian scoffed. "The Imperium would never knowingly enslave a Somniari."

"With respect, your worship," Stroud said then with an apologetic tone. "We are wasting time. If the rift to the outside world closes we will be trapped here."

"I agree," Blackwall added with a sheepish look. "We should keep moving."

"Precisely," Dorian said, cool and crisp. Indicating Rosa with one hand, he said, "And that's exactly why our Inquisitor's delightful new talent is so marvelous. She can part walls for us or form rock from thin air for us to walk on."

"Or drain away the water when we're drowning because the damned nightmare is trying to kill us," Blackwall added. He smiled at Rosa. "Thanks for that, by the way."

"Of course," Rosa said, returning his smile. Looking to Dorian and Hawke, she sighed as she gave in. "I'll do what I can going forward but I'm not limitless and I'd rather save it for when we really need it."

"That's perfectly sensible," Dorian said with a nod. "Though I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to see more of it."

Rosa eyed him out of the corner of her eye skeptically as she pivoted round to continue on the path forward. Dorian seemed to be as thrilled to discover what she was as Keeper Deshanna had been. It was…disconcerting coming from a human who believed in the Chant. But, then again, the Imperium was ruled by mages. It made perfect sense they revered Dreamers when the south reviled them.

Still, she wished she could have kept the talent hidden.


Next Chapter

"A very nicely done spell, da'len," Rogathe praised at her side, sounding almost entirely like her father now. "Perhaps better than I myself could have managed."

"You're not him," Rosa snapped. "Stop that."

"I am as much Felassan as I am bravery, da'len," the spirit told her. "I have died for you and your brother once and I will happily do it again."


Still struggling with the hives and haven't written much. I'll try to rectify that this weekend but the hives when they're active consume me mentally. Dread Wolf take them!

Next chapter we learn how Rosa came to be possessed post the Conclave explosion and we at long last get to see what Tal has been hiding! Also, I'm sure all of you realized the HUGE significance of the portion of this chapter narrated by Tal. Suddenly that little weird Friend of the Dead talent isn't just a fun little trait I idly tossed in there, is it? *evil laughter*

I had a great question I'll answer here in brief! (Thanks Random Rockets!) Basically, I mentioned from Solas' perspective that the Wardens method of fighting Blight will only lead to a world consumed by it. This is because in my head canon the Blight has been driven from the time of the Chant and the corrupted Magisters' fall to Thedas to find and corrupt the Old Gods. So...what happens when there are no more Old Gods? What will the Blight and the Darkspawn it shapes do next? I figure they'll march on the surface to take out the rest of life on the surface. *That* would be a truly AWFUL day for Thedas. I always thought in game that Solas knows something, and it's probably vitally important. But that bald bastard stays tightlipped as usual. Anyway...

Until next time...!