HAWKE

"Serena!" I shout as Anders, Fenris, Varric, and I burst through the estate's front door into the main foyer.

Blue and purple lightning bolts bounce off the surrounding walls and ceiling, striking down at a horde of shades, clustered together by the foot of the stairs.

Serena peeks out at us from between them. She's hunched over on the ground, her entire right side battered and covered in blood. "Hawke . . . " she whimpers, gawping up at us, her quivering voice unnaturally strangled and weak, even amongst the chaos.

The lightning dissipates.

Fenris and I both charge forward, slashing at the shades with every ounce of strength and speed we can muster. Meanwhile, Anders and Varric shoot at the ones gathered closest to the she-elf, firing in rapid succession.

Serena attempts to stagger to her feet to join the fray, but swiftly collapses, her hands grasping at the gruesome wound carved into her right shoulder.

"Stay down, Twinkle Toes! We've got you!" Varric yells over the din.

Serena doesn't fight him on it. She simply slumps forward until she falls flat on the floor.

The last of the shades drop soon enough without her interference, disappearing in a thick puff of pitch-black smoke.

"What in Andraste's name happened here?" I shout as we all run up to Serena.

Anders cradles her head in his lap and quickly starts to heal her.

"Lilies . . . White lilies. This morning. That man." Serena lifts her chin in the direction of a fallen, human man, lying in a pool of blood by the door.

Varric walks over to him, kneels, and presses two fingers to the side of his neck. After a brief moment of silence, he stands back up with a slow shake of his head.

"That's enough. You don't need to say any more," Anders hushes Serena.

Serena closes her eyes, submitting further into Anders's grasp. Her skin's so pale now, and she's covered in sweat.

"She's lost too much blood," Anders whispers, glancing up at me, "and her fever is spiking too high. We need fresh water, lyrium, healing potions, bandages, and a rag. Now."

Varric and Fenris both run out of the room, toward the kitchen. No doubt to retrieve some of the listed supplies. But I can't move. I'm frozen stiff. All I can do is fixate on Serena—her torn, leather armor, the blood seeping from her massive gash.

It's all too much. Too fast.

Bile rises into the back of my throat.

"My room?" I somehow manage to grit out in a whisper.

Anders nods and puts one hand on Serena's cheek. "Serena, can you hear me?" he asks.

Her eyes flutter open, but they look glazed over, unfocused, as if her consciousness is lost in a delirious fever.

"We're going to try to move you upstairs now. It's going to hurt," Anders warns her.

Serena doesn't respond. She merely closes her eyes again and goes back to resting against his lap once more.

Anders concentrates back on me, and with a quick nod to each other, I hoist her up into my arms. Anders trails along beside us, still casting his healing spells, while we ascend the adjacent steps up to my room.

I place her on top of my bed as carefully as I can. But a part of me hesitates.

I don't want to let go.

It's like my limbs weigh heavier than iron.

Anders disregards my reluctance and forces his way between us, making me back up, whether I approve of the distance or not. Fenris and Varric both rush into the room a moment later, carting a large basin of water and an armful of potions and bandages.

"Here. It is the only one I could find." Fenris hands Anders a small kitchen rag from his pile.

"It'll do." Anders takes it from him. "Now out, everyone. I need the space."

FENRIS

Dread. Fear. Worry. Confusion.

All such emotions bear down on me, as Hawke, Varric, and I sit in a breathless silence beyond Hawke's shut bedroom door.

I currently sit crouched beneath the nearby window, unable to keep still. Or so it feels like.

My arms and legs won't stop shaking. The tremors consistent, unyielding.

How could we have let this happen? We shouldn't have left her to guard the others alone in the first place! If we hadn't, then maybe . . .

I gulp down the thought and rake my fingers through my hair, clutching at the strands in tense desperation.

Hawke's door finally clicks open.

The abomination hobbles out, looking a bit worse for wear, and we all jump to our feet. "The worst has passed. For the moment," he says with a wide sweep of his wrist across his dripping brow. "She'll still need to rest. And another few bouts of healing once she's regained consciousness. But other than that, there should be no lasting damage."

All three of us release a collective breath we must have been holding, lightening the overall anxiety filling the room.

Hawke puts one hand to his lips. "I still don't understand," he whispers, pacing around in a short semi-circle. "How did this happen? How did she know it was him? The white lilies couldn't have been enough to start all this."

"Perhaps I can explain that," a familiar woman's voice speaks up from the nearby stairwell.

We all look over to find the blood mage, regarding us with wide, wary eyes, like a lone doe knowingly walking into a slaughter.

"Daisy? What are you doing here?" Varric asks, uncrossing his arms.

"I ran into Bodhan and your mother inside The Hanged Man." She flips a hand in Hawke's general direction. "They told me what happened, and I figured you might need more help."

She steps closer to our group with her head and shoulders hung low.

The posture of a rat, harboring a guilty conscience.

"You remember how I told you all about how Serena's strong connection to the Fade is the main cause of her fits, yes?" she asks.

None of us responds, and she shuffles her feet.

"Well, there's more to them than that. Whenever she collapses, she'll . . . she'll see things. Events from the past . . . and some that have yet to come to pass."

"You mean like visions? Of the past and future?" Incredulity rises in Hawke's voice.

Merrill nods. "Yes. They've plagued her ever since her magic first manifested as a child. It's perhaps the sole reason she avoids using magic to begin with. That, and . . . well, the voices." She shrugs.

"Voices?" I scowl at the smiling mage.

Her eyes flare wide open. "Oh no! Not demons, if that's what you're thinking," she insists with a quick shake of her head and hands. "They're spirits! Friendly ones. Or so she says."

She trails off. Only making me more suspicious.

Hawke sighs. "Okay. Let me get this straight," he says. "She's not only a Dreamer, with a strong connection to the Fade sort of like Feynriel. She also has visions of the past and future as well?"

Merrill flashes us a gentle, knowing smile. "None of the clan could believe it either at first. After all, it seems a tall tale, now doesn't it? But when what she saw started happening, it was hard to ignore her claims any longer. As I'm sure you might understand now."

She pauses again; this time to fidget with and wring her fingers back and forth.

"The Keeper believed the visions were prompted by her strong, magical connection to the Fade," she continues. "That Serena's somehow tapping into something ancient and powerful, beyond our current realm of understanding. Others theorized she might've been chosen by one of our gods, like Dirthaman, the Keeper of secrets and knowledge. But when that flat-ear betrayed us . . . None of that mattered anymore. Her gift turned into a target on her back. One that's hunted our clan from one end of Fereldan to the other."

The hunters . . . Could this be what they are after her for then? Not just for her Dreamer magic, but these so-called visions as well?

The prospect is unnerving.

After all, the ability to see into one's past or dreams as a Somniari is one thing, but to be able to perceive the past and future as well . . . The magisters would pay anything to possess such power.

Hawke pinches the bridge of his nose. "I need some air," he whispers under his breath.

He stomps over to the stairwell and points back at the lot of us.

"Can you all keep watch here? I need to go inform the city guard, then go fetch Mother and the others from Lowtown."

"We're on it, Hawke." Varric salutes him.

I turn around and force open the nearby window, allowing a frigid gust of nighttime wind to enter the mansion and nip at my face.

Perhaps some fresh air would do us all some good.

SERENA

A green fog swirls around me.

Through its impassable walls, I spy a faint speck of glimmering, golden light, shining bright as the first evening star. I reach out to touch it, and a ghostly woman appears—the same robed woman from the vision I had at the coast.

She's talking to me in what appears to be a small, wooden stable, residing somewhere out in the middle of the forest. I'm lying down on a pile of scattered hay, gazing up at her, while holding something tight in my arms.

But I have no memory of this time, this place.

And I don't quite feel like myself at all. My body feels . . . foreign. Different. Strange. Too tight and weighted down by something I can't quite understand.

The robed woman vanishes, and the scene changes.

Flemeth stands before me now. But I feel smaller. Shorter. Tamlen rises from his seat beside me on the other side of the clan campfire. But no, this can't be right. He's just a child. A boy no older than seven. Why would Flemeth be there at that time? We never met her before the blight.

The witch steps closer to the two of us with her typical plotting smile, the look full of mystery, deceit, and insane, prophetic guile.

A log cracks in the fire, thrusting a burst of scattered embers into the billow of smoke, fluttering between us. With their disappearance, the scenery shifts. Again.

Tamlen's reaching out for the eluvian now. Bright and as handsome as the day I first lost him.

I try to reach out to stop his approach, just like I had that day. But I'm too slow. There's a bright flash of light, and I'm flung back, landing hard against the floor.

My vision blurs.

'Wake up. You must wake up,' his voice calls through the growing haziness.

But no, that's not right. That's not what he said that day. Back then, he was screaming. Screaming for help, about something seeing him, that he couldn't look away.

My head aches.

A high-pitched roar rings in my ears.

In an instant, I'm standing back up again, transported back to a familiar memory from the Deep Roads. The archdemon soars overhead. It lands on a nearby bridge, supervising a horde of marching darkspawn, trekking through a perilous trench below.

No. No. This all from the past. Why am I remembering and seeing this now?

The archdemon bellows again. But this time, it comes out like a song. A beautiful, tempting song, performed by the most celestial sounding bard in all of Thedas.

It calls to me. Beckons me. Urges me to venture deeper into the Deep Roads, the pull tingling like torrents of fire and ice spreading throughout my veins.

I want to listen to it.

To heed it.

'No, Lethallan!' Tamlen's voice yells again, cutting off the singing.

The Deeps Roads vanish.

I'm surrounded by green fog once again.

'Tamlen, where are you?' I call, my voice and body shaking, the pull mounting.

Something's burning inside me, scorching beneath my skin. It's like my whole body's expanding, being stretched too thin.

I know this feeling. I do. But . . . from where?

The green fog lifts. This time shifting to an endless darkness. I'm being cradled by someone now on the ground—someone much bigger and taller than myself.

Ashalle? From when I was a kid? I can't tell. It's a woman, that much I know. And the memory's familiar. But we're surrounded by smoke . . . and . . . and fire! The forest and the aravels, they're on fire!

It's too hot. So bright. I can't breathe. My lungs ache.

Three men in robes approach us from the other end of the glen. They sneer at me, and my heart drops.

'Serena.' Tamlen appears before the woman and me. He kneels down in front of us and smiles, looking just as perfect as I try to remember him. 'You need to wake up, lethallan.' He reaches out to touch my forehead. 'Wake up.'

I gasp and lurch forward. "Lethallin!" I shout, my eyes flaring open.

"Whoa! Nice and easy!" Hawke's voice says from somewhere off to my right.

I glance around the room in a panic. I'm lying . . . in a bed now? Hawke's bed? And he's sitting in a chair to my right?

Fenris leans against the opposite wall, but quickly walks over to stand at my other side.

"What-What happened?" I ask between rapid pants, my mind and heart still racing, struggling to catch up. "Where am I?"

"You're alright. Your safe," Hawke promises and removes a support hand from my lower back.

My memory slowly returns, reminding me of the mage fight in the foyer, the shades.

The earlier sights must've been a dream.

Renewed panic sets in. "Leandra? Bodahn? Are they—"

A throb of stinging pain zips down my right shoulder, dropping all the way to the center of my chest. I wince and hiss in a deep breath, my right hand clutching at the wound, only to meet with unexpected fabric.

"They're both alright also," Hawke says. "We're all safe. Thanks to you."

I look down to inspect the mysterious clothing now covering me.

I'm wearing some type of long, red, silk top. Too fancy and loose for my tastes. It must be Leandra's or Hawke's. But based on the extra-long sleeves, I'm guessing it's Hawke's.

Beneath it, I feel an endless trail of binding bandages, stretching all the way from one part of my shoulder, down my torso, and extending to the palm of my hands.

"Here, drink this," Fenris pours and passes me a tankard full of water.

I gulp it down gratefully, not sparing a single drop. The cool liquid's a welcome relief to the scratchy dryness building in the back of my throat.

"Where is everyone?" I ask, slouching forward and burying my face in one hand, still breathing somewhat erratically despite my rattled nerves calming a degree.

"Waiting downstairs, talking to Aveline," Hawke answers.

I sigh.

At least that's one bit of good news. If the city guard are here, that must mean everyone is safe. For now.

I grimace as another jolt of pain wracks through me, concentrating along the base of my neck and the back of my skull.

"Ugh. My head's killing me," I grumble, digging my fingers deep into my hair.

"I can imagine." Hawke chuckles.

And it'd be a lie to say I wasn't relieved to hear him laugh. To feel his usual joy and good-naturedness, if only for a minute.

But the relief's short lived. His humorous expression fades, and he looks straight at me, radiating an unforeseen seriousness.

"Serena," he whispers in a low, clipped voice. "Can you explain how you knew he was the murderer?"

I stop breathing.

All thoughts cease.

My mouth drops wide open.

"I . . ." I try, but more words fail to come out.

Hawke and Fenris are both watching me, waiting. A solemn aura surrounding both of their beings.

They know. They know something doesn't add up, that something doesn't make sense. There's no point trying to hide it now. But . . . But . . .

I gulp and take a deep breath.

"I . . . can see things sometimes . . . about the past . . . and the future," I start in a slow, trembling voice. "And when I collapsed a few weeks ago, I saw a vision of your mother, Hawke. It looked like her, but it also . . . didn't. She was hurt, mutilated, sick. I got worried, so that's why I asked if I could stay, to keep watch over her just in case. And when I saw that human at the door, I saw that same disturbing vision again, but with more clarity. I saw him . . . killing Ninette . . . and . . ."

The vision returns again, stopping my babbling. I see brief glimpses of the shem cornering and strangling Ninette, chopping off her hand, and . . .

I shudder and shake away the memory. I then peek over at Hawke and Fenris. Neither have moved or even changed expressions.

But I see it in their eyes. The alarm. The confusion. The fear. The hurtful accusations. I've heard and seen it all so many times before. Before I learned it better for me to just keep my mouth shut.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I know you probably don't believe me, that you think I'm crazy. I don't blame you, but I-I—"

Tears well up in my eyes. Everything hurts now, not just my wounds.

Hawke pulls me by the wrist into a firm but mindful embrace. "Thank you," he whispers into my ear and cradling the back of my head. "For looking after my mother. And for telling us the truth."

The tears fall.

I glance over at Fenris over Hawke's shoulder.

His expression has softened too, and there's a newfound warmth to it, along with the faint hint of one of his rare smiles.

"You're-You're both not angry at me?" I stammer as Hawke pulls away. "Why? Why wouldn't you be? I've kept this a secret from both of you all along! I—"

Hawke puts a finger to my lips. "It doesn't matter," he shushes me with a relieved grin. "We all have our secrets—you probably more so than others, I think that's fair to admit. But what matters is that you're telling us now." He grasps on tight to my good shoulder. "You saved my family, Serena. Perhaps the last bit of it I have left. I can never repay you for that. So, who am I to get angry with you over how you've done it?"

The breath gets knocked out of me again.

" . . . You don't think it's strange?" I choke out between stifled sobs, my internal barriers slowly cracking, threatening to crumble within. "You don't think I'm some . . . some monster?"

"You're no monster." Fenris sits down on the bed beside me. "You are a hero. A warrior. A blessing. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

The dam of tears I've been trying to hold back collapses.

With a trembling breath, I lower my head and clutch tight onto the blankets, letting the tears finally flow freely. Breaking free from years of pent up fear and frustration. That has followed me, even before the times of the blight.

"Thank you," I whisper without looking at them.

Fenris and Hawke both scoot closer and wrap me up in their arms—the gentle comfort welcome, unexpected, and perhaps the first real sign I've ever truly recognized that I might finally be on the way to moving forward, in the arms of a new family.

Author's note: Hello everyone! I hope you all are doing well! I've been on a roll the past few days, writing the upcoming chapters for this story. As such, it looks like I'll be uploading two chapters per week for the next month or so. I'm thinking it'll probably be done on Wednesdays and Saturdays for the foreseeable future. I'll update you all if that changes, but for now, that's what we're working with. :)

Consider this the first upload for this week, which is a little bit longer than usual, but was direly needed. All comments and feedback are welcome and definitely help serve as a major motivator going forward! If there's anything you would like to see or get clarification on, please feel free to reach out through a review or PM. I'll do my best to respond between submissions.

Thank you again for reading! Keep safe!