As we head to Orlais, it becomes clear that Duncan is rapidly heading toward us as well. He must be hurrying back to Ferelden.

And when we travel, Urthemiel appears in my sleep. Watching me. She knows me. She recognizes me. She remembers me. She wants me, calls to me, sings to my soul. I'm not sure how much she remembers of that other timeline. At least I can be thankful that there isn't much to remember. We only fought directly once, and I doubt that I will need to go into the Deep Roads again this time, if Rispy has done his job well. I wonder if Urthemiel died in that timeline when I came back. I suppose it's impossible to know.

On our way there, Gellert's phoenix Patronus drops us a message. "I picked up a job tutoring Arl Eamon's son so that nobody else gets it. I'll keep an eye out for anyone trying to poison the arl or hiring somebody to do so. Maybe this way I can keep Connor from being discovered as a mage, too. Certainly don't need the poor kid to get locked away in the tower for the rest of his life."

Kirlin and I locate Duncan's camp, where he's traveling along with a small group, probably other Grey Wardens. No, definitely Grey Wardens. Once we get close enough, I can sense them like I can the darkspawn. How odd. We land nearby, shift form, and approach the camp.

"Who's there?" Duncan says, then blinks at me. "A Grey Warden?"

I give a nod. "Hello, Duncan. I desperately needed to speak with you as quickly as possible."

"Yes, I have sensed the archdemon's rise myself," Duncan says. "I do not recognize you. What is your name, brother?"

"Lexen," I reply. "I'm originally from Ferelden, but I've been up north for the last several years. I came down to help with the Blight."

Duncan nods. "I'm glad to have you. We're going to need every Warden we can get, especially with numbers as low as they are. And who is your companion?"

"Kirlin," she replies, inclining her head toward him. "I am his wife and soulmate, and I will follow him into the Void if need be."

"An elf?" Duncan says, raising an eyebrow. "Unusual, but I can say nothing against you. Can you fight, my lady?"

Kirlin chuckles. "You are very polite. Yes, I can fight. I am a mage - an apostate, if you must know. But I understand that if I join your order, the templars are less likely to hunt me. You are in need of skilled recruits, yes?"

"This is true," Duncan says. "Although our order is not a refuge simply to hide from templars. I cannot take in every apostate, lest I draw the ire of the Chantry."

"Of course you can't," Kirlin says. "That's why I'm not suggesting that you also recruit my half dozen other apostate friends. Even if they would make for a formidable force against the darkspawn. Although, one of them is kind of an idiot."

I chuckle. "He is indeed. Anyway, whether you decide to recruit them or not, they will be helping. Also a dwarf or two in Orzammar, as well. Hmm. And probably a Qunari, a crazy Chantry sister, and whatever others might make up a ragtag band of misfits."

Duncan blinks. "I cannot complain of having more allies, even from unlikely sources."

"Alright, Duncan, let's get to the point," I say. "There are some things that we need to explain, and what we have to say here is for your ears alone."

"Very well," Duncan says. "Let's go into my tent..."

"No, let's use mine," I say. I pull out my wizard tent and unfold it, then step inside, followed by Kirlin and then Duncan.

"By the Maker, what is this tent?" Duncan says, staring wide-eyed at the much larger space inside.

"The finest in enchantments from a world called Earth," I say. "We're not from Thedas, Duncan. And we're time travelers. We've come from the future to attempt to avert disaster."

"I have a feeling that this is going to be a long story," Duncan says.

"You have no idea," Kirlin says.

"That is... quite the story," Duncan says once we're done. "Thank you for telling me all of this."

I give a nod. "You're probably the only one in this world that I trust completely," I say. "I just hope we can do something to help, and prevent so many good people from dying."

"We did kill Uldred," Kirlin says. "I was leery of assassinating a senior mage like that, but considering what Gellert described of the tower being overrun by abominations due to Uldred's foolishness, I could hardly argue with it. Also, my few interactions with the man painted him to be a most unpleasant individual."

"And Gellert's in Redcliffe making sure the massacre there doesn't occur," I say. "I don't know what Rispy is doing, but we can debrief him when we get to Orzammar."

"We will pass by there in two days' time," Duncan says. "We can make a stop there and meet up with your friend while we're in the area."

I give a nod. "Good. As we mentioned, we mages know a spell that we can use to contact anyone that we're familiar with, but Rispy's a dwarf, and hence has been cut off from contact with us for quite some time."

"And we must certainly find a way to prevent the disaster you described at Ostagar," Duncan says.

"There is... one more matter that I think I need to mention," I say. "As you can see, my connection to the darkspawn and the archdemon remains even though I have not actually been through the Joining in this life. There's more to it than that, however. Urthemiel is very much aware of me, and she's calling to me, and may have knowledge of the future as well." I sigh.

"You know it is Urthemiel?" Duncan says. "And... she? The Tevinter Old Gods were traditionally thought of as male."

"She's a high dragon," I say. "High dragons are always female. The males are little and don't even have wings."

"I think there's more to be concerned about than the gender of the archdemon," Kirlin comments dryly.

"Yes, of course," Duncan says. "I am not certain what this could mean for the Blight, however."

"At best," I say, "she has foreknowledge of irrelevent events. At worst... she could be immortal. I honestly do not know."

"How do you mean?" Duncan says, raising an eyebrow. "The archdemons are already immortal if killed by anyone other than a Grey Warden."

"Huh?" I say, looking at him in confusion.

"Were you never told?" Duncan says, frowning a bit. "Perhaps the other Wardens were killed too soon after your recruitment to explain a number of things to you."

"Alright, let's go with the assumption that I know nothing," I say. "I feel like I might as well, at times. Explain."

"When the archdemon is killed, the soul will seek out the nearest darkspawn, and it will become the archdemon instead. However, if killed by a Grey Warden, the nearest tainted body will already have a soul, and instead, both souls will be destroyed, the archdemon along with the Grey Warden."

I blink. "No, nobody mentioned that part. Alright, so the main issue then is that the archdemon may have future knowledge."

I'm certainly not going to be the one to strike the final blow here, then. I don't know whether that would actually kill me or not, but there's no way in the Void that I'm going to take the chance. I like living, damn it. I like being immortal. The idea of losing all that horrifies me. If it were to come down to my own continued existence, then the whole world can burn.

"All things considered," Kirlin says, "it would probably be best if we could find a way to break the connection between Lexen and the archdemon. But I think that would probably require more than a simple Ritual of Purification."

I give a nod. "I wanted to be a Grey Warden... but I didn't realize what it would do. Now it just seems more of a liability than anything else, so far as actually fighting the Blight goes."

"And it sounds like you are already experiencing your Calling, as well," Duncan says. "How long have you been a Grey Warden?"

"Twelve years," I say. "However, it's been like that from the start. Another thing I neglected to mention? I didn't survive the Joining the first time. I survived it the third time. I have no idea how that might have affected things. Maybe I was never supposed to be a Grey Warden in the first place."

Maybe putting a Dragonblood through the Joining was just plain a bad idea to begin with. There are any number of things that could have affected things, and I wish I had known more before going into it. Damned Grey Warden secrecy.

"It's difficult to say," Duncan says. "I have never encountered a case quite like yours before."

"I would be surprised if you had," I say with a smirk. "I don't even know if the darkspawn will attack Ostagar at all, now. But whatever happens, we will find a way to prevent you, Cailan, and whoever else we can from being killed."

"You should be aware that even if you were to spare me from that fate, I will meet my end fighting darkspawn soon enough regardless," Duncan says. "The nightmares have returned for me, and even if I should survive this Blight, I will soon need to go to the Deep Roads to end it myself. If we are fortunate, however, I may get the chance to strike the killing blow on the archdemon myself."

"I see," I say, nodding. "Very well, then. I shall do my best to see that you get the chance."

I don't like the idea of anyone having to die to stop that thing, but it seems there are no shortage of volunteers. Am I a coward, then, for only being willing to risk death when I know that I cannot actually be killed? For being utterly terrified of anything that just might be able to end my existence or do permanent damage to my mind and soul? It seems the sensible attitude, in my eyes. Let the mortals throw themselves to their deaths. I am eternal.

That makes me sound really damned arrogant, doesn't it. Pride... always my greatest sin. That pride is going to destroy me one day, I fear.

Orzammar doesn't look any different than I remember it, aside from the fact that the handful of people outside the gates on the surface are there because they choose to be, and not because they're being kept out.

"Welcome to Orzammar, Grey Wardens," says the guard at the gates. "Shall I have someone show you to your headquarters here?"

"That's quite alright," Duncan says. "We know the way, and we were planning to look around a bit first."

We head inside and into the commons. The city is cheerful and active, and a few passersby stop to look at us and murmur excitedly about surfacers, about humans or elves, about Grey Wardens. Duncan sends his companions off to the headquarters and heads along with Kirlin and I by himself.

"Grey Wardens!" calls a dwarf from a nearby merchant stall. "Can I interest you in some fine weapons and armor?"

I look over at him, and hardly recognize him, but recognize him I do indeed. It's Ruck, looking healthy, bright-eyed and happy. Rispy did, indeed, succeed in changing something here at least, clearly. Even if nothing else is different, I'm glad to see that poor Ruck has gotten a chance at a better life.

"Sure, we'll take a look," I say, heading over to his stand and making a show of examining the merchandise. "Would you happen to have heard of a dwarf by the name of Rispy, by chance?"

"Who doesn't know about Rispy?" Ruck says. "He's the Warrior Caste's greatest champion, the hero of the Deep Roads, who has the Paragons' own luck. I haven't spoken to him much in recent years, but we were youngsters together, back when he was still a duster. He helped me a lot, though. Shows that not everyone in Dust Town is scum. How do you know Rispy? Have they heard about him even on the surface, now?"

"Indeed," I say. "Thank you for your time."

We move off again, and Duncan comments, "It sounds like your friend has made quite a name for himself here."

I pull out my map and take a look over it. I'd already added dots for my bondmates onto it, since they were easy to do given my connection and familiarity with them. Using that, I pinpoint Rispy at a house in the commons, and head over that way.

Rispy's sister, Rica, comes and answers the door. She still bears the brand on her face, but her red hair is neatly but modestly done up, and her manner of dress is simple but not filthy rags. "Yes? Um, Stone met, surfacers. May I help you?"

"Stone met," Duncan says. "We are Grey Wardens, my lady."

"We wished to speak with your brother, Rispy," I say. "Is he here?"

"Oh, yes, of course," Rica says. "Come right in. Oh, my ancestors, were you looking to recruit Rispy? My own little brother, a Grey Warden?"

"Perhaps," Duncan says, stepping inside.

"It's amazing enough that he managed to get us Warrior Caste," Rica says.

"That's a fair bit of a tale, I'm sure," I say. "And one I'd love to hear from his own lips."

Rica leads us off to another room and says, "Brother, there are Grey Wardens here to see you."

Rispy grins over at us when he sees us enter the room. "Glad to see you. Come in, take a seat. Rica, can you make sure Mother doesn't disturb us, please?"

"Certainly, brother," Rica says dryly, closing the door behind us.

"I think some introductions are in order," I say. "Rispy, this is Duncan, Warden-Commander of Ferelden. And Kirlin Surana, who was Cassiopeia Black in another time and place."

"Stone met, Rispy," Duncan says. "Lexen has told me a number of interesting things. Am I to understand that you are also from another world? But you seem to have family here."

"How much have you told him?" Rispy asks me.

"Everything," I reply.

"Everything?" Rispy says. "Somehow I doubt that, otherwise you would have been spending the entirety of the past year babbling to him day and night about every minor detail of your exploits."

I smirk broadly. "We summarized, and cut a lot."

"I don't believe it," Rispy says with mocking shock.

"More specifically," Kirlin says. "I summarized a lot of it. Otherwise we'd never manage to get anything done."

Rispy snickers and gives a nod, and turns back to Duncan. "Anyway. Yes. It's not quite so simple as us being from other worlds. When we arrive in a new world, there are often... counterparts who share the same soul. If there is one of those present already, we will merge with our counterpart and effectively become them. I was not a dwarf before, in the other worlds I have visited. And Kirlin was not an elf, either. She was a human mage, instead, by the name of Cassiopeia Black, as Lexen mentioned."

"I see," Duncan says, scratching his beard.

"From the looks of things, Rispy, you've been quite successful here," I say. "We met Ruck on the way in. Good job on that."

Rispy shrugs and shakes his head. "I haven't done quite so well as I might have hoped. But I'd like to think things are better, if not perfect. Sometimes you just can't save people from themselves."

"What do you mean?" I ask. "Did Branka manage to do something stupid again?"

Rispy makes a face, and says, "Perhaps it would be best if I were to start at the beginning, and tell you everything I've been up to since we last spoke."

"You really don't have any cause to complain about me being verbose," I say with a smirk.

"True," Rispy says, chuckling. "Let's get something to eat, and then we can settle in for storytime, alright?"

"It's 'debriefing'," I say. "That makes it sound more official."

"Whatever you say," Rispy says lightly, rolling his eyes and chuckling a bit.