Sorry if I've been a little scatterbrained, guys! Just settled into a new apartment and it's been a little crazy.

Thank you all so much for your support.

Know Thy Enemy

This is shit, River thought. This is a heaping pile of shit.

It hadn't taken her, Cassandra, and Stroud very long to realize they were separated from Nanyehi, Finn, Dorian, and Ellie, and that no amount of yelling could make their location easier to deduce. River's throat was already hoarse from calling out. Not to mention they'd landed in the Fade, of all places.

Both Cassandra and Stroud had, immediately, started reiterating exactly how unnatural it was that they'd landed here in the first place. This shouldn't have happened. It shouldn't be happening. River had finally interrupted from her seat on the ground that they should really stop standing here and saying the same thing over and over again, because it wasn't getting them anywhere.

To make matters even more hilarious, River had undoubtedly broken something in her leg upon impact. No matter how hard she leaned on poor Cassandra now, it was still difficult to walk with the sharp pain radiating from her left shinbone. Progress was slow going, and they'd only really been going for the past five minutes.

"Let's say we get out of here alive," River said, filling the terse silence. "Hypothetically. It could happen. If it does, you people are in way better shape than I am."

"And how is that?" Cassandra said in a sort of deadpan manner, adjusting her arm around River's back to keep a good hold.

"I'm dead either way," River said. "There's a good chance we're all going to end up as skin-colored smears while we're in the Fade. I'm just saying. But if we find a way out of here, all of us, Fenris is going to find me and tear me limb from limb. I swear."

Stroud was silent from where he walked behind them; River assumed he was keeping a watch for demons. That, or dozing off while he walked. Probably the first. Stroud didn't seem like the kind of guy who fell asleep on the job.

"I find myself doubting that," Cassandra said.

River wasn't so certain. Sure, maybe Fenris was always at his utmost gentle with her, but he was still an unholy terror in battle and could easily turn her into pulled pork if he felt the need. Not that he would hurt her, per se—she just didn't relish the thought of him finding out she'd fallen into the Fade after lying about her location and disappearing.

What a mess.

But wait. Cassandra's words—

"How would you know?" River asked. "You've never met Fenris. You don't know him."

"Varric told me a good deal about him," Cassandra said. "How much he loves you."

River's arm went slack, where it had been previously clinging to Cassandra's shoulders to keep herself upright. Her one good leg ached from being hopped on and taking all of her weight; she ignored it.

"Ah, that's right," River said, scowling. "Varric did tell me you took him hostage and tried to get my location out of him."

If Cassandra wasn't supporting all of River's weight, she might've yanked away and huffed at her. No one was allowed to hurt Varric. River would tear up a whole country just to keep her favorite dwarf happy. At least he was in better shape now, or River would've had to borrow Finn's can of arse-kicking and open that up.

After a long moment of awkward silence, Cassandra sighed heavily and said "if you must know, I was looking for you because I was desperate for an Inquisitor."

That took River by surprise.

"Why?" she asked. "You have—"

"I did not have Nanyehi at the time," Cassandra said. "I thought the Inquisition—and the Conclave—needed someone with as much influence as you. Perhaps you could have—"

"—could have what?" River interrupted. "Stopped what happened? If I couldn't protect Kirkwall from exploding, you think I could've protected everyone at the Temple?"

"You make a fair point," Cassandra conceded.

River chuckled. "It's been known to happen. Sometimes."

They didn't speak for a few minutes. Stroud cleared his throat a couple times behind them; poor guy must've been pretty affected by the nasty air here. River wasn't too fond of the Fade herself—the vomit-inducing sea of slick black rocks and green everything—but she didn't want to succumb to the air and make Cassandra shoulder any more of her weight.

"Tell me, then," Cassandra said, "were all of Varric's accounts true?"

"Would Varric exaggerate?" River teased. Of course he would. "Just don't believe anything he says about Wicked Grace. I never lost to Merrill."

She'd been about to say something else—something about Merrill literally always losing, most likely—when the ground shuddered beneath their feet, and a low, malevolent laugh rumbled around them. It didn't seem to come from any source or direction at all; River reached a hand back for her bow, regardless, her fingers just brushing its smoothed wood.

Ah…River Hawke, the disembodied voice said, deep and gravelly. Champion of Kirkwall. Difficult to use your daggers with that broken leg of yours, isn't it?

River bristled. The hair stood on end at the nape of her neck. She couldn't tell who was talking to her, but if she had to guess, it was a demon. (Fair guess, in the Fade.) A powerful one, at that. Cassandra stopped and looked around, searching for the origin of the voice, her brows pulled tightly together.

"I've got my bow," River shot back, clenching her jaw at a stab of pain from her shin.

And are those arrows of yours unlimited? the voice continued. How brazen of you, to trust your bow and your aim when nothing you've ever done has ended in your favor.

"That's not—" River started.

"Do not indulge this creature," Stroud urged softly from behind them.

Did you save Carver, when he fought the ogre to protect your mother? Don't you remember your poor little brother lying dead in the dirt? And your last words to him were angry ones. Such a pity.

River grit her teeth, painfully hard.

Your sweet little sister, hauled off to be imprisoned into the Gallows, said the demon's voice. Your heartbroken mother, taken away and mutilated into a blood mage's puppet. You remember, don't you? All these tragedies. All these failures.

River choked, stumbling, sagging against Cassandra, who caught her and held her upright with what was probably a great deal of strength. Not fair…not fair bringing that up…

"Bethany is safe now!" River yelled up into the air, ignoring the little voice in her head that kept telling her to ignore the demon and just keep moving. She'd left her baby sister with Aveline; nothing could get past that woman. "I made sure of that! And now we're going to find you and—"

Is she? Where is she now, I wonder? A pause, so silent River could hear her own heart beating away in her ears. What of Fenris? Do you really think nothing has happened to him?

Cassandra tugged on River, trying to get her to keep walking, but River had frozen where she stood.

The demon's voice, again: Can't you feel him dying? Maybe you should see it.

River opened her mouth to protest such a horrendous thing, but it was already too late. In the blackish mist ahead of them materialized Fenris's recognizable form—taut muscles under caramel skin, sleek white hair, iridescent blue-white lines all over, black armor with spiked pauldrons. He dropped to his knees and sagged his spine, his head falling back, the lyrium lines burning a brilliant blue…

"Fenris!" River shrieked, throwing away all of her logic and reason. She surged forward, trying desperately to reach him; no matter that her one leg crumpled under the sudden shift and Cassandra had to catch her again and forcefully hold her back.

There was a boom, a burst of blue flame, an agonized scream, and then Fenris's image was gone.

"No!" River cried, struggling in Cassandra's iron grasp, reaching forward, panting. "No! Fenris! No…"

Lyrium exploded like that, sometimes, without being provoked…it could happen…it could…Fenris…oh, Maker, no…

"It was a trick, Hawke!" Cassandra loudly insisted, hauling her to a standstill, despite River's thrashing and clawing forwards to where she'd seen him. "Be still! This is what it wants!"

"FENRIS!" River shrieked again, her vision blurring, head swimming, tingling at the tips of her fingers.

She barely even realized her face was streaked with hot tears.

Finn hurled a stonefist into the last demon in the ragtag assortment of stragglers that had just tried to prey on him and Dorian—a rage demon, and a weak one at that. It oozed back into the ground like melting lava rock, and Finn leaned on his staff, catching a quick breather.

It had probably been an hour or so of walking, by his estimates. Barely anything had changed about their scenery, except they'd passed what almost looked like a black, bubbling sulfur pit a few minutes ago. Naturally, they'd avoided that.

But Finn still hadn't caught any signs of anyone else. He was certain they were here, at least somewhere in the Fade, but they were proving impossible to track.

No matter. Keep trying.

Dorian made a clucking sound with his tongue; Finn looked over at him, watching him smooth his midnight black hair into its usual state—he was almost bummed he hadn't caught Dorian's hair in disarray before he'd done that. It was a rare sight.

"Your hands look worse, Finn," Dorian mentioned.

Ah, that must've been why he'd clicked his tongue. Finn spread his hands out in front of him, palms up, and studied them.

The thin white ice had spread, indeed—it was almost to his elbows now, making little cracking and crunching noises every time Finn moved his hands. Even as he stood there watching it, it crept up another inch on each arm, apparently intent on swallowing his forearms whole.

"Get off," he said, scrubbing his forearms. "Go. Shoo. No one likes you."

The ice seemed to react to him speaking, and spread all the way to his elbows. Thankfully Finn had a great deal of cold tolerance, or he might've lost the use of his hands by now. Still…even for an ice mage, losing fingers to frostbite could be a very real danger if he didn't warm his hands up at some point.

Stubbornly, he scrubbed harder, sending crystalline flakes of ice raining away from his arms; it re-grew as fast as he scrubbed, inching up past his elbows.

"Finn," Dorian chided, grabbing both of his shoulders and stopping his motions. "You're making it infinitely worse. Try and hold still, would you?"

Finn looked up at him, trying not to fidget, searching Dorian's grey eyes for answers. "You're a fancy Tevinter scholar and everything. What's going on? Is this just a reaction to being physically in the Beyond?"

"It could be." Dorian reached downward, about to take one of Finn's hands, but Finn jerked his hand away.

Dorian raised an eyebrow.

"What if it infects you too?" Finn said. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Ever the noble one," Dorian said in a teasing voice. "Hold out your hand, then, so I can have a look at it."

Finn obeyed, holding both hands out for Dorian to study.

"It's a reaction to being in the Fade, as we've previously noted," Dorian said, peering downwards at Finn's palms. "You're aware of the different realms in the Fade, yes? It isn't only a giant land of coexisting demons and spirits and whatnot. The more powerful demons have specific realms, you see. My guess? Whichever realm we landed in has something to do with the ice spreading on your skin."

"I'm guessing we aren't in the domain of the demon of happiness and pastries," Finn said.

Dorian snorted a quick laugh. "No, indeed. If I had to make a speculation…" He raked his eyes along Finn's forearms. "I believe only demons that are high up on the power hierarchy could command such a place. Sloth, Desire, Despair, Pride, Nightmare, the like."

"I'm going to take a stab at it and say this isn't Desire," Finn said, shrugging.

A sudden low, throaty laugh echoing around them made Finn startle, his hands involuntarily clenching into fists and fissuring some of the thin ice. You're getting warmer. But does your guessing do you any good? A pause. Or, shall I say, you're getting much, much colder…

The ice suddenly climbed halfway up Finn's biceps with unexpected enthusiasm, and Finn snapped his teeth together. Dorian fixed his eyes on Finn with a concerned expression.

The voice belonged to a demon, Finn was fairly certain. And a dickish one at that.

So confused, aren't you? the demon purred. You have no idea of who you are, inan'nislean. Why does the ice creep up your arms so? Does it hurt? No matter how much you flick your ears, elf, you won't find where I am. A laugh, as the voice faded away. Until I come to you…

"Fight me, then," Finn snarled, spinning in a slow circle to try—in vain—to locate the source of the voice. "Stop hiding away like a little bitch."

But the demon was silent.

"I'm curious about what it called you," Dorian said. "You understood the word, yes?"

"Inan'nislean," Finn repeated, pronouncing it a little more slowly so Dorian could hear the syllables. "It means blue-eyes." He shrugged. "I'm not sure why the demon singled that out—lots of people have blue eyes."

"But not many are quite like yours." Dorian lifted a hand to caress Finn's cheek with the backs of his fingers. "I don't think I've ever seen quite so pure a blue before. Not a hint of grey."

"Are you flirting with me?" Finn teased. "Don't you know I'm in a relationship?"

"Oh, I hear the man you're in a relationship with is extraordinarily handsome," Dorian said with a smirk twisting up the corner of his mouth. "But you've derailed the point, you silly elf. Perhaps there's something to your eyes that the demon knows? Something about your family?"

Finn shook his head. "Nothing of my family—that I know of. Most Dalish have green eyes, and my parents were no exception. Nani's are close to green. I mean, I don't look anything like my parents, but…" He thought for a moment, feeling a stale bit of wind stir his hair. "It can't be. It must've called me that at random."

"Not much is random in the Fade," Dorian pointed out.

Finn scuffed a foot against his pant leg, thinking. "I really don't have a good answer for that," he finally said.

Never mind that they were just standing here, talking, as Finn froze alive. In truth, he'd really only start worrying in a little while; it didn't seem like something to get a bee in his bonnet over. Not quite yet. Finn had built up enough ice resistance over the years to keep himself all right for now.

He thinned his lips, considering their circumstances, then twisted and thumped his forehead against Dorian's chest.

"Hello there," Dorian said; after a moment, his hands came up to comb through Finn's hair. He plopped a quick kiss on the top of Finn's head. "Something the matter?"

"No," Finn said. "Just thinking. I'm glad you're here with me."

"Surely you aren't glad we're here," was Dorian's response, spoken in a sort of dubious tone.

"Why, yes," Finn joked, not lifting his head. "I actually thought, this morning, 'well fuck me sideways, I really wish we were taking a scenic tour of the Beyond right about now'. True story."

"Got your wish, didn't you?" Dorian said. "It's a shame you didn't have the forethought to wish for something other than an on-foot tour. My tired, mutilated feet have you to blame."

"I accept full responsibility," Finn said, finally pulling away and straightening up. "In any case, now that the demon has stopped talking at us for now, let's keep looking for the others; I'm sure they're close by. They can't—"

The ground rumbled beneath his feet, quaking enough to make Finn suddenly unsteady, and he spread-eagled his arms to keep himself upright. Then there was a long, deafening noise, an unmistakable one, something Finn hoped to gods he'd never hear again after what happened a year ago.

A bear's roar.

Finn's skin immediately broke into a cold sweat, the ringing in his ears shutting out all other noises. Up ahead, from around a bend in the gravelly path they'd been following, Finn caught sight of a hulking mass of grey-brown fur, paws making the ground quiver with each step.

The great bear's teeth dripped with saliva and deep red blood, and Finn staggered backwards, falling on his rear.

He felt Dorian squeezing his shoulder, probably urging him to get up, but he couldn't hear a damned thing. Blackness edged his vision. The ringing in his ears gave way to memories of noises he could never forget, teeth tearing, flesh shredding, arrows whistling, his own screaming…

There shouldn't have been great bears here. No.

The creature pounded ever closer on its big stumpy legs. Finn felt a surge of mana next to him as Dorian whipped his staff off his back and readied a spell.

His year-old scars throbbed on his stomach, over his right eye, pain lancing through them.

Was Dorian yelling for him to move? Finn couldn't hear…

Face your fears, inan'nislean, came the demon's voice in his head, and Finn cupped his hands over his ears, panting, eyes fixed immovably on the approaching bear. You're only making me stronger…

To Nanyehi's horror, she and Ellairia seemed to have stumbled into a graveyard.

It was nothing like the Dalish burial grounds she was used to, where they planted a tree over the remains so new life could spring from old. These were crumbling grey headstones sticking up from the ground, morbidly rigid. Nani's bare feet sunk into the moist, cold peat beneath her as she stepped lightly around the headstones, reading the inscription on the nearest one.

River Hawke—lost everything she'd ever loved because of her own incompetence.

Nani's throat tightened oddly, and she cast a wide-eyed glance over to Ellie, who was bracing a hand on one of the headstones to keep herself from collapsing.

"I see them," Ellie said after a second, her voice raspy.

"Are these…predictions?" Nani mused aloud, taking a step to her left. "Or something in the Beyond trying to spook us?" Drawn to them with a sort of macabre curiosity, Nani read a couple more.

Solas—died alone.

Varric Tethras—became his parents.

Finirial Aoëthian—couldn't protect them all.

Her brows furrowed. That was her brother's name, at least half of it, and the description sounded like something he'd be terrified of…but Aoëthian? A Dalish clan name—from the sound of it—but not his. What was it doing on his hypothetical headstone?

Bizarre. Nani shook any resulting thoughts away.

She felt Ellie's eyes on her as she wordlessly stepped her way around the small graveyard, unable to tear her eyes away from the smooth-hewn inscriptions.

Dorian Pavus—gave in to temptation.

Cassandra Pentaghast—helpless in the end.

Ellairia Surana—never loved.

"Maker," Ellie said softly from behind her; Nani turned her head slightly and saw the other elf reading over her shoulder. "I can't…that's…cruel."

Poor Ellie was looking even worse than she had when they'd first fallen into the Fade. Her eyes were so clouded that Nani could barely even see the chocolate brown of her irises, and her skin was nearly translucent white; there was visible sweat beaded on her forehead, and her hands hadn't stopped trembling since a few minutes ago.

But the last thing Nani noticed was that the healer's eyes were brimming over with tears.

"Hey," Nani said, straightening up and facing Ellie; she wasn't good at this comforting thing, but she needed to try. "Some demon is just trying to hurt you. It's not real."

Before Nani could reassure her further, Ellie sagged against her and gripped her arms in shaking hands; Nani hesitated a moment before tentatively rubbing the other elf's back, trying to sooth her.

As she did so, she stole a glance at a headstone in the back, one she'd just spotted her name on. It didn't take much effort to read the inscription on it.

Nanyehi Lavellan—no one ever truly wanted you as Inquisitor.

Ouch. Nani sucked in a breath, wincing.

Did anyone, though? Given the choice, wouldn't the Inquisition prefer a nobleman or noblewoman as leader? Surely not her. Surely not a tightly-wound Dalish hunter with nearly infantine social skills and a propensity for pessimism.

She had been their last resort, hadn't she? Maybe some time ago she wouldn't have cared, but now…

Ellie pulled away from Nani and composed herself with what looked like a great deal of effort, squaring her slender shoulders. "My apologies," she finally forced out. "I'm not myself right now…"

"No, don't be sorry," Nani said. She stole one last glance at her own headstone, scowling, and stiffly led the way out of the graveyard. "We're giving this place too much of our time."

Ellie followed noiselessly after her.

Something—women's intuition, maybe, who knew—told her to take the leftmost path when it branched into a fork, and so she did, stepping gingerly over a mess of black rocks in her way. It still disconcerted her every time a willowy green bud sprang up from the dirt at her feet, but she tried to pay them no need; this realm in the Beyond was trying to freak her out. And it had already gotten to Ellie.

Her keen ears picked up a queer scuttling in front of her, and she held a hand out, stopping Ellie as well as herself.

"What is that?" Ellie wondered aloud, peering ahead of them.

Nani didn't have to answer; a moment later several wolf-sized creatures crawled rapidly towards them from the path ahead, their furried legs moving in almost a blur, their chelicerate fangs dripping with venom.

Spiders.

Twelve of them, if Nani was calculating right. She wasted no time yanking her bow off her back, nocking an arrow, and firing; it sank into the first spider with a disgusting squishy noise, and the creature curled up into itself and died.

"Stay behind me!" Nani ordered, firing another arrow. Two down. She held her ground, bracing her feet apart, and continued firing.

Three.

Four.

As many as she took down, more seemed to spawn from every nook and cranny in the oily rocks around them. Five, six, seven, eight; Nani's right hand was almost a blur, pulling arrows from the quiver at her back. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve; still more coming. Thirteen, fourteen—

Nani reached back for another arrow, and her fingers grasped nothing but air.

She'd come up empty, and there were still more of those damn spiders. "Shit!" Nani cursed, looking rapidly around her for something she could use as a weapon. The remaining spiders were crawling towards her and Ellie, their many black eyes gleaming in the sickly green light from above.

Ellie stepped to her side and thrust a hand forward, palm out.

The air around them pulsed, fluttered unsteadily, and the giant spiders made collective squeaking noises, their thin limbs curling against their bodies. A couple of them rolled over, exposing slick underbellies; Nani's brows furrowed.

Mind blast. She'd only seen the Keeper do it, once, but Ellie must've put a lot of power into that spell for it to break all those spiders' minds like it did.

Her suspicions were confirmed when Ellie gave a sort of tired groan and her knees buckled; Nani caught her just in time, struggling to hold her up.

Ellie grabbed both of her shoulders, breathing heavily. "I…need a minute," she wheezed. "Tired…Calling…"

"Easy," Nani urged. "You got them all…we—"

Carefully, slowly, the healer sank to her backside, sitting in the hard-packed dirt and letting her eyes close and her head droop forward.

Little healer, came a voice echoing all around them, deep and full of malice. Nani's lips pulled away from her teeth in a feral snarl, and she looked up at the green sky, trying to find the voice's owner. Surely you know these breaths could be your last.

"Go away," Ellie said in a shuddering voice.

You won't make it very far, little one, the voice continued. If only there was someone waiting on the other side for you to come out…but you're all alone…

"GO AWAY!" Ellie shrieked up at the sky, startling Nani with the sudden ferocity of her voice.

There was a long silence, broken only by Nani's and Ellie's breathing; the disembodied voice didn't come again.

"I'm sorry," Ellie said after a long minute. "I…don't think I can get up."

"I can wait," Nani insisted. She broke briefly away from Ellie and jogged around the path's slight clearing, gathering up as many arrows as she could find. Nasty work, pulling them from the spiders' skeletal bodies…but she couldn't go arrow-less. Not right now.

"No, you don't understand." Ellie's clouded gaze met hers. "Putting all that energy into an offensive spell must have weakened me too much. I can't stand."

"Try," Nani insisted, running back over to her, her quiver replenished as much as possible.

She offered the healer her hands, and Ellie took them, trying to stand; her legs failed, crumpling, and she sank back to the dirt.

"I'm going to slow you down," Ellie eventually said after a moment of heavy breathing. "Please, Nanyehi…you have to go. You can make it out of here. But this Fade-induced Blight sickness is killing me. I won't make it."

"Yes you will," Nani said stubbornly.

"I—"

"Try again."

"Nanyehi, it's not possible!"

Nani blew out sharply through pursed lips, forcing herself to come to terms with that. Ellie wouldn't just lie down and give up out of fatigue; the mind blast spell must've drained the life right out of her. She considered this, weighed everything in her head, and made up her mind.

"No protesting," she said, slinging her bow and quiver to the ground with two successive thuds. "You're going to hold these for me, all right? Because I—" she knelt in front of Ellie, backwards, gripped her arms, and hauled her onto her back, "—am carrying you."

"I can't ask you to do that," Ellie said, although she weakly clamped her legs around Nani's waist and clung on to the bow and quiver when Nani scooped them off the ground.

"No one asked me," Nani said. "I'm not leaving you behind to get torn apart by a demon. We're going to find each other, and we're all making it out alive. Understood?"

"No…arguments," Ellie whispered, resting her face in the curve of Nani's neck.

It was harder than Nani had thought, carrying ninety pounds of exhausted deadweight, but she grabbed the undersides of Ellie's thighs anyway and began walking, ignoring the straining of her leg muscles. Ellie's arms draped loosely around Nani's neck, and aside from her shallow breathing, it was almost impossible to tell she was still alive.

Nani clenched her jaw, her resolve strengthening. No matter what came…she couldn't fail.