AN: Apologies ahead of time for the text in the beginning that'd been distorted, if there's people who find it annoying or difficult to make out (my bad!). The words in bold where it's most unintelligible is meant to be that way, I just figured running it through the Zalgo text distorter would add an extra bit of mystique. you can skip it without missing anything, don't worry.

Chapter 31 - What team? Wildca- oh, Wardens

Amid the darkness, amid the rock, the empty, cavernous pits, the cold and the liquid streaming down the walls of the cave, they gathered. Bodies pressed up against one another, black beady eyes glittering in the dark, unseeing yet aware. A living mass of flesh that defied life itself, that defied nature, defied the light and those that walked in it.

He could feel them move as one- a tug in his gut that made him want to join their rank. The hunger in their bones was ravenous, and when he looked up at the sky he saw only more darkness, illuminated only by the glint of a torch that went on forever, it seemed, with no end.

Above- above, he-w̶ho-is͏-͟be͞a̡u͘t͡y͢ lingered, watching them from his perch. Exalted and twisted, a dark and terrible and magnificent- the call bled through each of their bodies. This was what they were here for.

His voice.

H̴is̛ rul̢e.͜

̕

͏H͘is ̡t̢ơn̛g̶u̴ȩ.

̡

H͢҉is blood. ̧͞҉

H͠IS ̶͢C̴͟A̧͝L̶̕L͠I̢NG̶̢

His - t̹͙ͅḫ̣̰e̪̙̳̠̩̮͈ͅy͙̹͎͎͓ belonged ͒ͣͦͧͤ̆̅to h̘͈͇̦̗i͙̳m̮̮͈͈͈͕̘̫.̗ ͇̣̭͎̪̱T̩̯̖̙͎̝ͣ͑̉̊̌ͮh̠͇̺̜͔͓̉̈́͊̔̔e͕̳̯̲̱͈̬̤̯ͬ̆̏̓ͥͩͥy̖͎̭͎ͤ̋̊ͬ̈̂̋-̭͍̮̥̍́-̻̠̰͚̠͌̄̀̊̾̆̀ͦ

The great one opened his maw and fire spilled from his teeth, into the air, filling the dark expanse with his words and his truth.

"M̢҉a̶͘n̕a̶͢.͟͞͡ ̴̢ M҉̸a̡̕͡ ̢͠h̷a̡͜͞l̸͘an̸i̸! N̵a ̸̵m̶̨ȩ̷l͏͡a̷n͝͠a͠҉ s̷̵ah͡͏l̡̛͟i̕n̸̨!҉̢"

It was a screeching, telling sound, that could be felt in the bones, i̲͍̹̘n t͚͝h̦̜͡e̠̲̗͘ ̩̙̖̦̖͈͝ḇ͖͖̣lo͈̭o̬̠͇d͕͖͇̻̘̞͜ͅ, in the very heart of all his vassals-

"Ut̴ ̢̛hin̛͝c̨̕ ҉r̸̡u̵͘r̕͝sus̨ ͠͏͘ p҉e̕͝r̡͠v̸en̢̢͟i̡e̡̧s̶͠ ̡q̧̨̨ųįe̕v̸̧̢i̷͠t͢.̶ ͘I̸̵l͢l̡e҉͜ ̢͏s̡͢a̕͝ng̸͠u̶̢͘is ̨qų̷͘i̸ ta͡͝͡n̛g̡͠͏i͡t͏ ̡f͜a͘l̢l͞-̸ ͜͡ v̡̢̛i҉ţa͠͏,̸ ̶q̷͘u͟͠a̵̛e̸͠ ̸͠͏mo̕͞r͡i̶҉."

The song flowed through them all, as one. A solo cḁ̗̫d͙͚̣͉̝en̥̜͙̬͕̻̗z̰͉̭̬a͍, deep and pure and beautiful in its terribleness, and then echoed in the blood of all those beneath him.

̨͟͠" M̸̸̛a͏̢̕n͜a̢͡.̴ ̶M̛a͏ h̵͞a̷̷̸l͟a̡͢n͞i̷̵! ̷͟N̶̛͞a͏ ͜d͢͟in'͜a҉͝n̛͡ ̢ s̸ah̢͢ļ̶̡i͟͢n̕͝!̢̛͘"

They cried out as one voice, together, a chorus. Together, strong. together, one- a chorus of echoing screams, roars and shrieks. T̳̦̪ḫe mus͈i̡̮͎̯̻͉̻c̜ rose in crescendo, one of power, blood and b̯̤̭͚ͅe̠͍͔̣a̤͝uty̙̰̠͓͝-͙͔͓͜-͡ ͇̯̠̰

̢ "V̕eni͢t̛͠͏e ad̶̴ ̶͟me̡ ̴͡v̨en̷i̸̛et ͟ mi͢h̶͘i,̢̨͡ ͠e̢͘͞t͏ ͟ņ͏u̧̕n͟c͡͏͟ ̸͟e̡s͟͜t̸̢ ̧ h̛͜o͢r̶a̡ ͢͡ v̷̛e̷҉ştra͟͠!"

X

"...reach the g̕o͢l͜d͟en ̴ci̛t͏y ͠ o͢nc̶e͟ ͞mor̢e̴. The blood of he who will fall... "

Carver woke abruptly, forehead slick with sweat and delirious with fever. With a sharp intake of breath, his eyes opened wide and his legs moved on their own accord, ripping him from his bedsheets and casting him onto the floor in a tangle of blankets and curses.

"Uug hhhh... "

The floor was chillingly cold, and he blindly reached out to try and gather his bearings. His hands shook- he could taste the blight on his tongue and crawled in the direction his senses tugged him towards. He couldn't feel the swell of pain in his broken arm until he reached the door, and by then he was on his knees, and then his feet, and he was moving down the dimly lit hallway.

It was an unconscious calling. Something in the blood he couldn't quite grasp. But by the time he finally fully woke up and came to his senses, he was standing in the middle of Bann Teagan's kitchen, shrouded in darkness, staring at a figure sitting in front of the fire.

Carver awkwardly cleared his throat. "Uh... hey."

"aaaAAAAAH!" the figure shrieked and jumped about a foot in the air, scrambling away from him and dropping the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Cinna placed a hand on her chest and stared at him, wide-eyed, and slowly recognition sunk in. She squinted at him in the darkness. "Carver...? What the hell ?"

"I didn't mean to..." He shook his head and took a half-step backward towards the door. The glow from the fire was reminiscent of- what was it he had dreamed? He could still taste the liquid ash and bitter poison in his mouth... He shivered and clutched his arm, the dull throb of pain the only thing keeping him grounded, lest he float away to... wherever he had been going. "I'm... something's not right..."

"Sit down before you pass out." She dropped her blanket on the floor and quickly guided him over to a chair beside the fire. He could only see the outline of her head amid the glow of the flames- Carver struggled to keep his head upright as his vision spun. He heard her let out a curse he didn't recognize. "This isn't good."

"T-That's exactly what one wants to hear from a doctor," Carver choked, coughing on the fluid building in his lungs. "You're really selling this... healer thing, aren't you?"

She gave him a flat look and took his arm in her hands. Carver let his mind drift as she went about poking and prodding at his veins, and only really started paying attention again when she dragged over a small pitcher.

"What's that for?"

"Bleeding. Somehow I don't think the staff will appreciate a puddle of blighted blood on their floor when they wake up..." She made a face as she pierced the skin, and Carver watched, slightly worried that he didn't seem to feel anything at all. Quickly, before she drew too much blighted-blood to control, she wiped the sweat off her forehead, and let out a breath between her teeth. "I-I didn't think I'd be doing this much blood magic in a single day... Alistair is going to be so disappointed in me. Speaking of, I need to find you another donor..."

Carver opened his mouth to ask just what that was supposed to mean, when another cold chill swept through him. He fought to say anything, anything at all to keep his mind occupied on the present instead of that awful... awful dream. "W-what do you think they're doing... out there.. while we're sitting around waiting for them to come back.. doing nothing?"

She smirked at him, ignoring the edge in his voice. "If I told you, you honestly wouldn't believe me."

Carver snorted, and tried to focus his thoughts into something more linear. "Humor me."

"The Brecilian forest has these... giant tree people... who talk. It's gotta be something fade-ey about the place, but..." She wiped another bead of sweat off of her face, and he noticed, just then, that her eyes were red and she looked like she hadn't slept at all. "I'd like to imagine they're having the time of their lives talking to tree folk and looking for lost acorns."

It sounded crazy enough to be true, but it had Carver thinking. "Why didn't... you want go with them? I mean... Isn't it a warden's job to... do warden... things?"

Cinna floated another blood globlet into her pitcher and cast her eyes away from him. "I guess . I mean, I don't really feel like a warden most of the time. I don't get any of the sensory abilities, or the dreams... not that I'm that torn up about it. I mean, I kinda am... I'd like to be useful to them… is ' I don't know' a good enough explanation?"

He blinked at her, and something chillingly cold settled in his gut. "Wardens have what? "

"Sensory abilities and-" She squinted at him, and took in the heavy bags under his eyes, and his general disheveled appearance, like he had just fallen out of bed. Which he had. "Carver… are you having dreams? "

"I... don't know. I didn't know that was a thing ." He swallowed heavily. "Is that bad..?"

She stared at him for a very long, uncomfortable time, and Carver tried not to glower at her on reflex. He was only marginally successful.

"No... I mean, as long as they're what other wardens deal with..." She laughed and her hand gravitated up to where her braid usually sat, but instead, Carver noted that her hair hung limply around her shoulders, and... was a fair bit thinner than before. Instead, she fiddled with the small trinket hanging from her neck. "That's just... I guess something to talk to Duncan about, actually..." She scrunched up her face and looked away from him. "Is it bad that I'm weirdly jealous?"

"Not bad, so much as crazy," he replied, frowning. "I don't recommend it."

She sat back and set the pitcher to the side, apparently done draining him for the moment, and rubbed an exhausted hand over her forehead. "Yeah, I guess..."

"What are you doing down here anyway?" he asked, watching as she pulled her blanket back over her shoulders, scattering the stray papers littered around her by the fire.

"Late-night research." She shrugged and looked down at the bottle hanging around her neck. "I've been trying to pin down just what exactly... it is I'm dealing with."

"And that thing around your neck is somehow linked to it?" Carver squinted at the liquid inside it. "It's not another blood mage thing, is it..?"

"No!" Cinna undid the clasp holding the necklace together and held it up in the light for him to get a better look. Dark, blackish red liquid was encased in a crystalline looking jar, and glinted in the low firelight. "It's... what they give you after joining the wardens. Like the seal of approval that you're a part of the group, or whatever. I've mostly just kept mine hidden and forgotten about it, but now it's got me thinking..."

"About what?"

"About-" she shut her mouth closed and grimaced. "I'm… not sure if I'm allowed to say."

"Seriously?"

"I mean, it's rooted in warden business and the whole joining mess and-" her face went blank for a moment, before she narrowed her eyes. "Actually, you know what? You're about just as warden-ey as I am. I'm sure whatever bigwigs who run the group didn't expect this when they made their confidentiality rules."

Carver stared at her evenly. "You mean Ducan? Isn't he supposed to be the warden commander?"

"Ah, right..." she ducked her head and gathered up some of the loose pages floating around her before they flew into the fire. "I honestly forget he's like, in a position of power sometimes and my boss and not like, our collective parental babysitter trying to corral us all into a mcdonalds play-pen."

"Do you think the words you say before you spit them out or does it just come to you naturally?" He said, with growing exhaustion.

"I mean, which answer makes me sound cool and mysterious?" she said, smirking.

"Neither." Carver didn't even blink, and gestured to the bottle. "So?"

"You just want to talk to me for my arcane secrets, I see..." she wiped a nonexistent tear from her face, shaking the little bottle in front of him, like a taunt. When she stopped, she glanced down at the little bottle and then looked back up at him. "If I could get my hands on some legitimate darkspawn blood instead of a mixture, I wonder what the difference would be..."

"There's a difference?"

"Of course there's a difference. There's a big enough difference between archdemon blood and a genlock... I need samples if I want to figure it out, and this trinket is the only thing I have so far."

Carver raised an eyebrow at her. "So the wardens just... hand out darkspawn blood as souvenirs once joining. That's not creepy and ominous at all."

She shrugged. "In peace, vigilance. In war, victory. In fashion accessories, questionable."

He groaned. "If you're suggesting we go out and intentionally capture a darkspawn to use as guinea pig-"

"No!" she said quickly, palming the trinket. "I mean... No, that's unethical... unless-" she pursed her lips. "...Do darkspawn feel pain?"

"You're worried about the darkspawn hurting now?" He asked incredulously.

"I don't know! I mean they're like animals, right? Or.. not? God, I don't think modern medicine was ever prepared for the concept of something intentionally born evil before..." She scowled. "I don't even want to think about what that means, psychologically speaking."

Carver squinted at her, not sure if she was actually being serious at the moment. "Have you actually encountered a darkspawn before?"

Her eyes drew back up to his, unblinking. "Yes."

"Then you shouldn't care whether or not they hurt or feel pain," he huffed.

Cinna sighed and leaned back, papers in hand and blanket wrapped around her snugly. "Yeah okay, fuck the darkspawn. But I'm just trying to follow the rules I know best-medicine is supposed to be done with compassion and understanding."

"Two concepts completely foreign to them," he reminded her. "The darkspawn don't have a single brain between them anyway- there's nothing you can do to them that won't change their mind in wanting to kill you anyway. Bleed 'em dry, who cares ?"

"I mean, if I'm going to be doing the bleeding, I care, that sounds difficult." she said, cringing. "And messy."

Carver gave a half-shug in agreement, not really interested in where the conversation was going next, before she abruptly changed the topic.

"Do you want to go shopping with me tomorrow?"

He blinked at her. "What?"

"Shopping. With me. In the market. In Redcliffe."

"I know what you meant , I'm not an idiot." he grumbled. "What I meant was why? "

"I need some... bottles." she said loftily, not quite meeting his eyes. "For... creepy... blood mage reasons..."

Carver shifted an inch away from her, grimacing. " That doesn't sound questionable at all."

"I'm kidding!" She kicked him in the shin. "I'm a weenie with bad posture. Do I look like an evil creepy blood mage to you?"

"Dependable," he said, squinting at her in the low firelight. "What did you do to your hair?"

Her eyes went wide and she sucked her head into her blanket. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

He squinted at her harder, and she squinted back.

"What happened in your dream that got you so worked up?"

" Nothing ," he grunted.

"Then we're at an agreement," she said, eyeing him. "You're coming with me and Leliana tomorrow."

He groaned. " Her too ?"

"I promise you we aren't going to drag you shoe shopping with us or anything," she swore, rising from her chair, pulling her great blanket bundle with her. "This is purely a practical resource gathering outing, and I wouldn't even want to go out with Loghain's men running around if it weren't completely necessary to me curing you of the blight."

Well, when she put it that way.

Carver sighed, and got up as well. For a moment he looked down at his feet, surprised he hadn't lost his balance and that the vertigo had passed. As... had the nausea. He looked back up at her, quiet for a moment.

"We're heading out in the morning, but not too early, because I'm not insane or anything. But Leliana is, so like, we're going out around ten-ish." Cinna gathered her papers and reached over to grab a candle. She grabbed a small match and lit it with help from the fire, and motioned for him to follow her out the kitchen door, candle in one hand, pitcher of blight-water in the other. "And hey, Carver?"

"...Yeah?"

"If you do end up having any more darkspawn dreams, tell me, okay?" she said seriously. "You don't have to delve too deep into the subject matter or anything, but as someone whose job it is to look after your health-"

"I got it," he sighed, bushing off her concern.

She frowned at him, brows furrowed. "I mean it. I won't be able to know what's going on with you and Cailan if you aren't both honest with me about what you're dealing with." She stood next to him in the doorway and awkwardly, with her great blanket bundle and his broken arm in a sling, gently bumped shoulders with him. It was like walking into a pillow. "We're on the same team, ok? I'm on your side, I swear. I won't even laugh if it turns out you're dreaming of... Alistair in his underwear, dancing the Macarena."

He raised both eyebrows at her. "That sounds more like a nightmare than a dream."

"Depends on how spicy you think the Macarena is...?" she said, eyeing him.

Carver shook his head and moved back in the direction of his room. Stable, in control of his head once more, and quite frankly, exhausted. "Honestly? I don't even want to know."

She shrugged, and headed for her room. "Hey, your loss."