It was a spacious, once well lit mess hall. There were still some moth ridden banners hanging in scraps from walls and lying down in furniture.

There were some corpses among the scattered tables, but these seemed quiet enough, and a nod from the mages let them know they posed no threat for the moment.

Gudrun was going to press on, when a sudden cold seized her, and she felt dizzy, just as if someone had hit her helmet with a mace. The surface of the air rippled and squirmed, and just in the same space before occupied only by dust, a few images appeared.

They were all pale, bluish. Gudrun drew her weapon, but everyone else seemed at ease. The figures were a collection of men and women of various races, shapes and sizes, all dressed in grey and blue. Grey Wardens. They looked expectant at a woman clad in full plate.

"What is... what are..."

"It's ok, Gudrun," Iola said, placing a hand on her shoulder, "It's just a memory... or a vision."

"It's that damned Veil, isn't it?"

Iola opened her mouth to reply but her response got drowned by the echoing voice of the armored ghost.

"Men! I won't lie to you, the situation is grim. Our forces outnumbered, our bellies empty, and out hearts are sagging. But we are WARDENS! Darkspawn flee when they hear our horns! Archdemons die when they taste our blades! So are we to bend knee to a mere human despot? NO!"

Her speech faded slowly, first the sound, then the shapes, and finally the colors.

"Shit."

"You ok, Gudrun?"

"I..." she fought to regain her composure, "I didn't like that." Dwarves didn't even dream, they were much less supposed to see visions and ghosts. Grey Warden dreams were bad enough, but this... She cleared her throat, "I'm assuming the famous tear is not here."

The mages shook their heads.

"Well, then, moving on..."

They walked up to a door far on the left, all except Alistair, who seemed to be staring at empty space. Gudrun sighed; he was going through some things, but there was no way of knowing if this was going to be the last vision to confront them, of they'd be more, and of what nature.

She was going to say something but saw Iola approach him and gently squeeze his arm. She said something to him, too low for them to hear, but at this the man smiled and nodded, and the troupe continued on through the castle.

They eventually found a dark room that must have been the library, judging by the amount of burnt and corroded parchment. The condition it was in was less than ideal, but Gudrun didn't want to abandon the hope of finding something useful.

"Look around, see if you can find anything that's not rotten."

After a few minutes, Miach called them to a corner of the room. There was a tome, open and broken at the seam.

"What is it?"

"I don't know, I can't read."

Morrigan snorted, and the elf and her exchanged complicit glances.

Wynne cleared her throat, approached the tome and began deciphering the text; "As I write this, the King's men are at the door..."

It happened again, the moment the words of the page started making sense to them, they felt the air shake and fill with strange colors. The ghostly figures of the past appeared again before their eyes. This time just two, a man and a woman.

She was beside the door at the far end of the room, from where they'd entered.

"The... the door won't hold, archivist."

"I'm almost done... the truth must be told..."

"What does it matter? We're dead!"

"... but our- our grand rebellion... it was so close, to die here, a stillbirth..."

"We never should've done it! Wardens are not supposed to oppose kings and princes."

"And what could we have done?! Should we stand idly by while..."

The door broke and in a flash of white light so did the vision, leaving them to the dark room.

Alistair took the tome from Wynne's and passed the pages trying to find something else, but the parchment crumbled to dust in his hands, "A rebellion... but that's, meddling in politics that's against all wardens stand for."

Miach crossed his arms, unperturbed, "She must've had her reasons. Maybe this king was a prick. Maybe what he did couldn't be ignored..."

"It's not like it matters now..."

"Maybe it does," Morrigan said, tapping her lip, "Maybe to whatever lives here it is something that still matters... if it's not a demon."

"Only one way of finding out."

As they walked up a set of stairs and along a corridor, Gudrun caught up with Alistair and tapped his elbow.

He looked down at her, brow furrowed, as if fearing a lecture.

"I know what you're going to say..."

"No, it's ok. I understand."

"Yeah?"

"I just... Alistair, there might be more to this story. More than Dryden knew, it might be bad."

"I know that. I will keep it together."

She huffed, that's not how she wanted to come across, but there was no use in arguing, not in that moment or in that place. They would have to push through, and maybe depending on what they found have a talk with him later.

He was not the only one. Gudrun was starting to question her decision of leaving behind the Antivan Crow, even if Zevran seemed compliant. She feared what he would do, but that was no reason to postpone his trial. Gudrun had spoken to Leliana shortly after they'd recruited him, she seemed to be the one to know the stories about the guild and would be the one most likely to know about their strange customs.

Was it true that one failure equals a betrayal, Gudrun had asked. Leliana admitted she didn't know for sure, but that the stories seemed to suggest that. A betrayal of his intentions was already a faux pas. Bah, what's done is done.

The floorboards had been creaking like an omens the whole time, and the door to the next chamber was also jammed. She was getting ready to kick it down when Iola's voice stopped her.

"Wait," she seemed concerned, and so did Morrigan, "I... we think it's there. The tear, I mean, it could be there."

"I would suggest we skip it," said the witch, "but if you really want the castle back we will need to confront whatever is causing it sooner or later."

"I gathered. Be honest, the three of you, what do you think is awaiting at the other side of the door?"

Morrigan waived a hand, "Demons, of course, plenty of them."

"Another memory maybe..."

"Why? Why has this... Wynne, do you have any ideas?"

The old woman looked at her witch a touch of concern, but seemed to shrug it off, "I do. Considering what we've seen, and what we know. A killing."

"Well I'm not surprised." Gudrun turned around and without a word kicked the door down. They had no time to react before the wave of freezing wind enveloped them, colors shifted and reality bent just a little to accommodate the past. The scene was gruesome; grey wardens and soldiers were fighting and dying in numbers. Sophia Dryden rallied her troops, her face was half covered in blood, and her comrades were dying around her.

"Avernus, we need you!" She screamed at a man perched atop a flight of stairs.

He carried a long white staff and a dagger, his hands started moving in circles, from his mouth came incantations Gudrun couldn't understand, and the floor lit up with the memories of the summoned demons. Through the dream, they could still see the charred spots where the creatures had materialized.

"More, Avernus! Whatever it takes!"

Their will turned against them quickly. The creatures turned on their allies and started slaughtering grey wardens and king's men alike.

The mage Avernus was shaking with fear and fury, "NO! I command you! Attack the King's men!"

One of the demons turned to him, his whisper reverberating, "The Veil... is torn..."

"No... no..."

"You're mine, Avernus. Mine..."

"No! Acolytes, retreat!" He ran and disappeared from the vision. Next to them, Sophia roared.

Her sword sung against one of the demons, and then slashed a nearby soldier, but as she did so, through her armor came a claw, straight at Gudrun's head.

Alistair reached out with his sword and caught it off. The vision blurred, and they were left in a dark room filled with demons.