Jowan was beginning to suspect that his day was going to get very, very interesting. He had not expected to run into Amell again; especially not so soon after what had happened between them. The last few months since he'd escaped from the Circle had felt like an eternity, taking shelter in barns and in the woods when he could. He had been very lucky that the arl and his wife hadn't asked too many questions about where he came from, or where he had studied. Their son had a knack for magic, and they wanted a tutor for him that wouldn't steal him away to the Circle.

From the stories that were coming out of Ostagar, Amell hadn't had the greatest time in their months apart. Her new order was brutalized in the battle, and her superiors had tried to betray the king in the process. Jowan had caught wind of the conspiracy well in advance, of course, thanks to an informant from Teyrn Loghain who told him of the arl's involvement. He had done what he could, of course. The poison that the Teyrn's agents had given to him had proven very effective, shuffling the arl into a deep, nightmarish sleep.

The arlessa was understandably not appreciative of what he had done; she had thrown him in the deepest cells of the Redcliffe prisons without a second thought. She could never understand, Jowan thought to himself. She's Orlesian. They do nothing but scheme and conspire against each other. She had returned to him when her son was possessed, demanding that he undo what he had done, and refused to believe that no, her son had called down an undead infestation on their castle by himself.

It was here, in the depths of Castle Redcliffe, that he had seen Amell again. She had emerged from an even deeper cell, along with an assortment of new friends that he hadn't recognized. Another apostate, he'd noticed, but she'd shown even less sympathy toward his predicament than his old friend. "Just kill him and be done with it", the swamp-witch had said, " before he asks us to solve his problems, too." Amell had left him in here; whether it was a gift of mercy or simply not wanting to bother with him, he'd appreciated it. She'll have a lot more trouble coming her way, he thought, as Amell's party headed up toward the castle proper. Still plenty of demons up there, I reckon.

He had just barely settled back in his cell when an explosion rocked the foundations of the castle. A burst of bright green light filled the hallway outside, sending a scattering of sharp shadows on his cell wall. What was that? Some sort of fade-magic? It didn't feel like any kind of magic he had ever seen, and he'd seen a fair amount by now. As the rumblings settled, he realized there were voices outside.

"Dorian? What happened? Where are we?"

"Not where, Sandra. When."

Now that Dorian had pointed it out, Sandra recognized the location from Leliana's old maps; the prison cells of Castle Redcliffe, where they had snuck in their soldiers less than an hour ago, while she and the others walked in through the gates. The Tevinter magister had taken their bait, and in a fell swoop, he had lost everything… or so it had seemed. In his last moments, he had cast a terrible spell that had seemed to rock the very foundations of the world. There was a bright light, and then… they were here. Whenever here is.

"What do you mean, when?"

Her new companion shrugged slightly.

"We had Alexios on the ropes, on the verge of absolute defeat. The old man was desperate, and thought he had been beaten. He had nothing left to rely on but his time magic."

Time magic. It still felt like an odd thing to even think about, despite Dorian's long explanations as to what he and the magister had been working on. The senior enchanters at the Ostwick circle would certainly have scoffed at her if she had even dared suggest anything like that, though maybe not to her face. Still, it seems like he might have done it. She frowned.

"Let's see what we can find out. Come on."

She had barely taken a step toward the stairs when someone cried out: "No! Wait!"

Jowan didn't recognize these two either. Mages, clearly, but not from around here. They sound like Free Marchers, possibly. Or Tevinter? Hard to tell. A man and a woman, the latter very clearly in charge of things, had stepped out of the explosion. They seemed surprisingly calm, Jowan thought, given the situation. They had gotten up and started to leave - up toward the castle - when he'd cried out to stop them.

"Wait! Don't you know what's up there?"

The woman, whose bright-white hair had made her look much older at a distance, had turned to face him. Jowan tried to stand up as tall as he could, but he suspected he looked no more impressive than he did before. The woman glared at him, shooting darts of ice between the prison bars.

"Prisoner. I have a question for you. What year is it?"

Huh? Jowan had expected a number of questions; that was not one of them. He took a moment to gather himself.

"It's… 9:30. 9:30 Dragon."

The woman turned to face her companion, whose face carried a look that Jowan could only describe as a mix of surprise and relief.

"Eleven years ago. Well, Alexios, you've outdone yourself."

Jowan was dumbstruck, simply listening to the two new arrivals talk. A Blight? Here? And a… a mage rebellion? There had always been a few apprentices at the Tower who talked about rising up, when the templars weren't listening too hard. Anders kept talking about "ruling ourselves", not having to listen to templars anymore, or anyone else. An admirable dream, certainly, but it could never be done. Jowan knew better than most that freedom wasn't worth giving up everything you loved for.

"Prisoner."

Lost in thought, he hadn't realized that the two of them had turned to face him.

"We're going to let you out. Under one condition."