It shouldn't have made Varric as nervous as it did, especially after a year trailing after the Seeker while the world fell to pieces around their ears, but when Cassandra barked out an order for Varric and the Champion to follow her for a private discussion…

Varric couldn't help but be a bit worried he was about to emerge with a black eye he really didn't need. He had troubles enough, thank you. Instead, the Seeker leaned in over Varric's head, bringing her eyes level to Hawke's. Their little huddle must have looked odd to Maria and Dorian, left several paces behind, just far enough for their little trio's whispers not to carry.

"She is real?" The Seeker's voice, normally so steady despite everything they had seen, shook. "She… she is no demon?"

"If she's a demon, she's not like any I've ever seen." Hawke admitted guilelessly. "I never met her, Seeker, so I can't vouch for her personal authenticity. I will admit she's… different from everyone else. But she survived that damn vortex hexed, didn't she? That magic has to linger."

"She's the real deal." Varric was certain. He hadn't been more certain of anything in a long time. He'd seen demons take Maria's shape to torment him, to torment Beatrix and Cole and Iron Bull, and it hadn't been anything like this. This Maria was knit of flesh and bone, vibrant in this hellscape. "I'd vouch for her."

"That Vint witch says if he can get to Alexius's focus, that damn watch, he can undo the magic and take them back. If they go back…" Hawke trailed off, eyes blazing.

If they went back, everything could change. If Maria never died in Redcliffe, if she sealed the vortex with the help of the witches, if she returned in triumph to Haven with a cheerful grin and her red hair flying…

"There is no guarantee." Cassandra frowned, let her eyes flick above Varric's head to take in the miraculous figure behind them. "We thought she could have closed the vortex, but even if she had…"

The demon army. The political chaos of Orlais. Could Maria Cadash have stopped all of that? But… no vortex growing above their heads, no cracks spreading under their feet with demons leaking into their world.

Hell, it may have given them a bit of a fighting chance. And if anyone could have rallied Thedas against the storm, wouldn't it have been the Herald of Andraste?

"She wasn't supposed to die in Redcliffe." Hawke whispered. Varric watched her left hand dive into her coat pocket, saw it curl around her deck of cards. "I knew she wasn't supposed to die here. If she hadn't…"

If Varric had saved her. Varric met Cassandra's eyes in silent, mutual grief. If they had saved her like they should have, saw her through like they promised they would…

"If it can be undone." Cassandra's eyes were beginning to blaze the same way Hawke's were, but the skepticism still spilled from her lips. "If it can be set right, why have you not seen it?"

"I see it now!" Hawke argued hotly, gesticulating wildly above her head. A trail of sparks fell from her fingertips and Varric swore, slapping them out when they landed on his jacket. Hawke ignored him. "It's not my damn fault Tevinter time magic made the future more nebulous than it already was!"

"She's got a point, Seeker." Although she really needed to work on her temper. Varric wondered just how much of Hawke's rant carried behind them, so he chanced a glance over his shoulder, only to meet gray eyes searing into him.

For a second, he forgot how to breathe.

He smiled, reflexively, held up one finger in Maria's direction. She rolled those stunning eyes impatiently and Varric swore he heard Dorian invoke a rather obscene part of Andraste's anatomy. Varric turned back to the Seeker and Hawke, lowered his voice. "I think we're all in agreement that if we've got a chance, this is going to happen. The question is, how the fuck are we going to manage?"

"More important question." Hawke's smile didn't quite reach her eyes, but there was a flash of her old mischievous sense of humor around the corners of her lips. "When are you going to tell her?"

"Oh for the love of…" Varric couldn't help the exasperation, but he also couldn't help but feel comforted by it. Exasperated by Hawke, simple. Easy and refreshingly normal, like nothing had been for a long damn time. "Is this really the time to be thinking like Rivaini?"

"I watch you pine over a dead woman for a damn year, she comes back from the grave, and you're telling me…"

"We shouldn't have brought Beatrix." Cassandra snapped, interrupting what Varric was sure would have been an entertaining rant about his personal life delivered with both panache and style. The Seeker pinched her nose with her fingers and closed her eyes tightly before repeating herself. "We should have done something else."

Hawke and Varric exchanged a tense look. They'd only brought Beatrix on this rescue mission because they all, quite rationally, expected it to be a suicide run. When you were making one of those, as Hawke had said cheerfully before leaving, you took all the guns you had even if one of them was prone to misfiring. Bea still had enough sanity rattling around in her skull to probably not be a danger to herself or any of them. Probably. Hopefully.

Plus, the thought of leaving Maria's beloved sister all alone, to die slowly from the red lyrium in her veins when they never returned… it had been too much for Varric to face. He suspected the Seeker felt the same way, although he understood why Hawke couldn't look at the other woman without seeing Bethany's face those last excruciating days before she finally lost her own battle with the poison running through their veins.

Sunshine, he thought morosely, had deserved better. So had Fenris. Varric, in his head, rationalized it was better for Bea to go with them, to die quickly, at least. Unlike the other two. But if they'd known that Maria would show up, if they'd known that this may still be a suicide run, but one with the very weight of the world on their shoulders…

"I can handle it." Varric grit his teeth together. "I can convince her to hold it together."

Maker, he hoped he could. He needed to, somehow. Hawke's frown deepened and she opened her mouth. "Varric, think. If Bea was herself, if she knew what was going on, would she want us to risk…"

No. No, she wouldn't, but Varric couldn't think of that now. He shook his head briskly. "It's not negotiable, and if you think Maria is going to let us leave her behind…"

"She would not." Cassandra sighed, wiped her hands on her jeans. "Varric is correct. We must hope for the best."

Hawke blinked, shocked. "You're agreeing with Varric? Shit, it must be the end of the world."

Varric couldn't help it, he snorted with a burst of undignified laughter as Cassandra glared at the two of them stiffly. Then, the Seeker soldiered on, ignoring the splotchy redness crawling up the skin of her neck. "Alexius is in the thirteenth floor of the hotel. We suspected Leliana was being held in the building, but on one of the lower floors. Our plan can still hold with modifications."

It hadn't been much of a plan, but it was all they had. Cassandra continued, thoughtful, "The Herald was a talented shot and a brave woman. It will be easier with her, and if Dorian is as good at magic as he claimed…"

A fighting chance. They could have a fighting chance. It was better than the odds they started with, anyway.

"Oh, don't mind us!" Dorian, it appeared, couldn't contain himself any longer. "We simply adore being the topic of hushed conversations. It's like being back in Minrathous all over again."

"Maybe we could come up with another plan?" Hawke suggested hopefully. "One that doesn't rely on the Magister?"

Cassandra and Varric simply looked at her until Hawke's shoulders slumped. At her feet, Loki barked unhappily as if in agreement. She shared a baleful look with the dog before turning on her heel and heading back towards Maria and Dorian.

Varric agreed with that look. Fenris, Maker help him, was spinning in his grave. Regardless, it was time to get the show on the road. He turned back and found Maria's eyes continuing to bore into him, like she could see down to the shattered pieces of his soul, through the grief and guilt, past the trauma to something more.

One year. One year was all it took to convince himself he'd been on the precipice of something with Maria Cadash. One year to begin to consider her the biggest "what if" of a life full of them.

She'd been back with them for less than an hour, and now he knew. There had been no precipice, only the fall, and he'd have fallen with or without her. But that wasn't for him to tell her, not now. That was for a different man, a different time, an entirely different life.

"Let's grab your sister and head out, Princess." He stated lightly, but firmly. She nodded and their group dove into the darkness.

When they finally first heard Bea's voice drifting down the tunnel, Varric felt Maria stiffen beside him. The song lyrics fell, trembling, into the eerie silence. Varric could see light flashing erratically in the darkened space they approached. The tunnel emptied into a cavernous space, what once was meant to be a subway station he assumed. In the center of that space a lone figure stood, tossing and catching a flashlight repeatedly as she sang. In the wobbling light, Varric could see her eyes glued to the ceiling above them.

"Twinkle, twinkle, little star…" Bea's voice curled in the echoing silence.

Maria made a noise in her throat, but it was Cassandra who turned and thrust an arm out to stop the Herald from running forwards. "Allow Varric." She instructed tersely.

Varric was sure Maria was going to argue, so he pushed forwards instinctively. Bea didn't look at their approach, didn't tear her eyes away from the darkness above them. She tossed the flashlight in the air again and Varric darted forward, quick as a snake, to catch it before she could. Without the light bouncing around the room, the space seemed suddenly even larger. The disruption did cause Bea's glassy, almost empty eyes to turn to him. He still wasn't sure she saw him. He tapped the light gently against her shoulder. "Mittens, you're going to give yourself a seizure."

The steady light illuminated her, from the old canvas sneakers with frayed laces, up to the old, worn thin bomber jacket and the knit cap pulled down over her frazzled brown curls. Cole's hat, Maria's old jacket that she left in Haven when they went to Redcliffe that final day. Bea continued to look at him, blinking red tinged eyes slowly before she shook her head briskly to clear it. Varric nearly choked on the relief as he watched her struggle to come back from wherever she'd gone. He always dreaded the day when she wouldn't return to them at all.

"I was wondering how long it was going to take you to limp over here old man." An insult, a good sign even if her hand reached up to tug the silver chain around her neck too hard. "It's so fucking loud. It's so…"

She didn't finish, instead biting her lip and folding her arms around herself. Varric heard her hum a note under her breath and he frowned, looked over his shoulder at the group behind him. Damnit, he didn't have enough time to do this. He needed…

He didn't know what the fuck he needed. To go back to the day they lost the three of them, to stop it before it happened, to bring back Fenris, Bethany, Bianca, Cole, Sera, Bull, Merrill, Isabela, Sebastian…

He could. They could if they could just…

"Hey. So - new plan." He injected optimism into his voice and reached out, curling his fingers gently around Bea's upper arm. She frowned intensely at him, but didn't try to squirm out of his grip. "We're gonna save the fucking world today, alright?"

"We can't." Bea protested, voice instantly going shrill. "It's too late. It's all dying and dead. You can't hear them but I can and I know, I know, I know…"

Her eyes swung wildly to the space behind him, her careening gaze dashing recklessly across the small group huddled in the silent darkness. She didn't see her, not at first, but Varric knew the minute she did. He felt it in the way Bea tensed up, as if waiting for a blow.

"She's here again." Bea jerked, nearly out of his grip but he tightened his hold on her to prevent her from running away. "Varric, she's here again and I can't…"

They said Fenris saw Danarius and Hawke as he succumbed. Bethany saw Carver and her mother's mangled corpse trailing her, but Bea… Bea always hallucinated her sister. And Varric would always tell her, calmly and gently, that it wasn't her sister. Just the red lyrium making monsters in her mind.

This time, Varric looked over his shoulder into Maria's ashen face too. She'd stepped forward, more brave than sensible, one hand reaching out on instinct. Varric squeezed Bea's shoulders tightly. "Mittens, this time it's really her."

xx

Maria's heart felt stuck somewhere in her throat. The woman flinching away from her and into Varric couldn't be her sister, it was impossible. Beatrix Cadash would never be caught dead with less than perfect hair, let alone wearing Maria's old baggy coat. The wraith like figure in front of them was too skinny, too disheveled, too vulnerable to possibly be her sister. Bea belonged to neon lit clubs and loud bass beats, not this haunting melody and cavern of poison.

She couldn't hear what they were saying, although Bea's distress was too was the warmth between the two of them, the gentle, soothing hush of Varric's words. The way Bea curled towards him in a way Maria, honestly, had never seen Bea curl towards anyone except her and Nanna and dad.

Would you believe I tried to keep her safe, Princess?

She didn't. She didn't until she saw this and now that she had, she didn't know what to do with the information. She couldn't make any of this fit, couldn't piece it together in any way that made sense.

"Ria?" Bea's voice cracked and she broke free of Varric's grip, lurching unsteadily around his form in the darkness. Bea gave off her own, dim, glow. A red halo of heat surrounded her, illuminated her, and when she stretched out her hand Maria could see red veins seared under her sister's pale skin.

But those were her sister's gray eyes, even under the red, and Maria would know them anywhere because they were hers and it was her blood in Bea's veins and her cursed luck that led them all to nothing but death and destruction.

It was her grandmother's ring circling Bea's finger.

And it was Maria's hand that reached out without a thought, her fingers that tangled with Bea's, and her voice that cracked on her sister's name the same exact same way. "Bea, it's okay. I'm here."

"No." Bea whispered, shaking her head, even as she twisted her fingers tight with Maria's own. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, red things that looked more thick that they should have, glimmered like crystals before they dropped, leaving red salt in their wake. "No. No, no, no…"

Maria swallowed bile in her throat and reached out, fingers trembling, to brush a frazzled curl behind Bea's ear, to reveal more of those bright red lines under her skin, like crow's feet from her eyes, a mockery of the ones that once lined their grandmother's.

"You're dead." Bea's grip was bruising, her eyes glowing. "You're dead and back with Fynn like you always wanted to be. You left me, you left me and it was my fault. It was all my fault."

"Bea…" Maria was at a loss, didn't know what to say, but even saying her sister's name seemed to be the wrong thing to do. Bea reeled back, instantly furious, venom spitting from her lips.

"Don't! Don't you dare act like… act like… like it wasn't me. I should have died! I should have been in prison, I should have…"

Maria's heart sputtered and she fought the urge to slap her hand over Bea's mouth, to hiss at her to shut up before Maria made her shut up. Instead, she pulled herself up straight. And she channeled every inch of their grandmother into her posture. "Beatrix Grace Cadash, if you don't pull yourself together I swear on our ancestors I will make you regret it."

Behind her, Hawke snorted in amusement and muttered under her breath. "Grace, that's fuckin' excellent."

Bea herself seemed stunned into coherence either by the threat or the use of her full name with all the indignant rage of Zarra Cadash behind it. She peered into Maria's eyes, torn between alarm and a glimmer of hope. She chanced a glance away from Maria over her shoulder to Varric, the beam from the flashlight he held falling over her pale face. It was to him she addressed the tentative, terrible question. "This is real?"

"Is your middle name really Grace?" Varric asked in return. "Because I sure as hell didn't know that, although I certainly wish I would have."

Even this didn't look like it quite convinced her, Bea's face frozen in a mask of anxious hope and distrust. Maria stepped forward and grabbed Bea's hand again. "Your name is Beatrix Grace Cadash. We grew up in Ostwick and it was just me, you, and dad." Maria swallowed, hard. "Nanna lived down the street. Do you remember them? Dad and Nanna?"

Bea's free hand rose to the silver chain circling her neck and she pulled it from where it vanished beneath her shirt. Maria watched while the leather badge holder appeared, the shining Ostwick police shield catching the dim light. She could see the letters embossed in it, their last name in gilt. Bea hadn't touched it in years, hadn't worn it since she'd been a young girl playing pretend. Instanty, Maria recalled their cramped apartment, the sound of her father's laughter, his big hands shuffling playing cards at the table, Nanna arranging Bea's curls over her shoulder fondly.

Maria felt it all like a punch in her gut. And she could hear her father's voice booming across time, all the time he reminded Maria to be careful, to watch out, to take care of Bea - to always take care of Bea because there were dangerous things in the city, dangerous people, and her dad would know because he was a cop.

Maria would become one of those dangerous people. She did it to protect her family when dad couldn't.

A vivid memory pulled itself into focus, Bea with her head in her hands, shoulders shaking on the edge of her bed. The smoke curled from an abandoned cigarette and all Maria could think about as she stared at it was how much she could trade it for in lockup, even half-burnt down. She still moved uneasily, still listened for the footsteps of prison guards and the sound of zippers being done up hurriedly. She still ached, like the bullet with her name on it had ended up in her chest instead of Fynn's. Like she was slowly bleeding out, waiting for the right chance to collapse.

The way she felt so tired, tired in her bones, when she looked at Bea that night and realized she couldn't. That there was no one left to protect the little family she had left except for her.

Maria said the same thing she'd said then, the same thing that kept her going through all of it. "It's alright. I'm here now, I won't leave you."

She saw the flicker of recognition light Bea's face up from the inside out, even past the sick red lines burned into her skin. Her sister's face broke into an uneasy, shy, not-quite hopeful smile. Bea's fingers squeezed hers, firm, and maybe it was foolish but Maria swore she saw her eyes focus clearly on her own.

"I've missed you, you idiot."

There was enough fondness in those words to nearly bring tears to Maria's own eyes, but if she had allowed it she would have missed the small, pleased smile that flitted quickly in the dim light across Varric's.

"C'mon, Mittens. I've spent enough time down here." Varric swung the beam of his flashlight forward and pointed it to the opposing wall. "Which way out?"

"This way." The Seeker began gruffly, moving past them. Varric trailed after her, their shadows thrown up like puppets on the walls around them. Bea hummed a half note to herself, twining her fingers with Maria's like they were girls again.

"C'mon Bea." Hawke's voice belonged to a corpse more than a woman, dry and ancient. "I need you to tell me how bad the red shit is before those two fall into a shit ton of it."

"We'd never get it out of his chest hair." Bea's eyes flashed at her own joke, but her smile faltered at whatever she saw on Hawke's face. Maria chanced a glance over her own shoulder and found herself startled by the dark, intense fury on the other woman's features. She looked, Maria thought, exactly like a hawk. Exactly like the woman who started a war in Kirkwall, like a creature created to hunt blood witches and demons.

"Hawke?" Bea questioned, her voice losing some of it's surety almost as quickly as she gained it. "Hawke, I couldn't save them."

"I know." Hawke managed to tamp back down whatever had flared to the surface. "C'mon. We're doing this for your sister now, right?"

Without waiting for any further assent, Hawke stormed past, curling one long human arm around Bea's shoulders and twisting her out of Maria's grip easily. Maria fought the urge to scowl, to demand a fucking second with her baby sister. The dog trotted beside the two of them and Hawke turned her head, piercing the darkness behind Maria with a glare so intense she felt the entire room grow warmer.

"Tell her." Hawke growled, following the bobbing flashlight. Maria turned, confused, to Dorian and arched an eyebrow up.

Dorian's dark eyes looked like an abyss in the meager light as he shook his head sadly. "My dear this… this isn't real for you."

"It is." Maria protested. She could taste it, feel it, smell it. Nyx squawked unhappily on Dorian's shoulder.

"It isn't. You don't belong to this future, Herald." Dorian paused, eyeing her nervously. "And you'll have to leave her behind. You'll have to leave all of them."

At first, the words didn't compute. Like a computer that had completely frozen, she just stared at him blankly. Then, something dropped into the pit of her stomach. She shook her head immediately.

"Cadash…"

"No." She bit out, turning on her heel.

She couldn't. She couldn't leave them. Not after everything she'd done to keep her and Bea together, not after Cassandra looked at her with such hope, not when Varric…

She tamped that thought down like a stray spark and stalked, resolutely, after her people.

When they finally came to the ladder, Maria felt a surge of reckless joy. Out, they'd be out, and that was worth a million fucking dollars as far as she was concerned. She couldn't stand the rotten, inky darkness one minute longer. Cassandra pried open the manhole cover far above them, the creak of it piercing the silence as loudly as a gunshot. Maria's fingers curled around the grip of her gun, waiting for the inevitable rush of people eager to inspect the noise. Cassandra paused, silhouetted in an eerie half light.

"Allow Nyx." Dorian gestured grandly at the bird on his shoulder who seemed to have simply been waiting for the cue. The little ball of feathers nearly took off Cassandra's nose in it's rush to get out of the tunnel, darting into open air above them. Cassandra glared down from the ladder into Dorian's face.

"And if it does not return?" She asked pointedly.

"Oh, she always does." Dorian waved away her concern breezily. "Once, I lost her in a wishing fountain for two days. She'd decided to try and pick up all the coins from the bottom and nothing I gave her could lure her away from it."

"Well, here's hoping she's not distracted by anything shiny." Varric muttered under his breath.

Bea tugged briskly at the police shield around her neck, frowning down at her scuffed up sneakers. Maria gently reached out and snatched Bea's fingers away from it before she broke the thing. Bea looked up, met her eyes and reached down, tracing the chain as it disappeared beneath the jacket.

"All clear then." Dorian said brightly as Nyx chirped above them. Cassandra huffed and swung her lanky frame out of the manhole. Varric grabbed the rung next and hoisted himself up, then peered back down.

"Well, it's a shitty day in the neighborhood, but come on up and see for yourself." He slung his shotgun over his back and crouched back over the hole. "Mittens, you next."

It surprised Maria that Bea reached for the ladder and shimmied up it effortlessly, although it probably shouldn't have. If Bea could swing around a pole, after all, pulling herself up onto a ladder wasn't that much of a stretch. She clambered up after Bea and emerged just in time to watch Varric hand her little sister a loaded gun.

"What are you doing?" She hissed, immediately outraged.

"You're right." Bea slyly looked up at Varric from under her lashes, fingers curling around the gun jealousy. "She must be real."

"She's not gonna kill demons with her good looks, Princess." Varric shrugged, only semi-apologetic. "She's not a bad shot."

"Almost as good as her." Bea grinned, all teeth and red gums, jerking her head toward Maria. Varric shook his head.

"Wouldn't go that far." He qualified, taking a moment to look around the concrete building they found themselves in. Maria glared at the weapon in Bea's hands, sternly looking up into Bea's face.

"Don't shoot yourself in the fucking foot." She ordered. Bea's answering giggled caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand straight up.

"Right." Hawke breezed past, dog at her heels. Maria did a double take, looked back down at the ladder where Dorian climbed up, swearing rather elegantly in his pretty language. "So if we went far enough…" Hawke began.

"Wait, how did…?" Maria interrupted, frowning. Varric smirked, a lazy, rakish thing that very nearly lit up the dim room.

"Magic." He stage whispered and shrugged carelessly. "It's always fucking magic."

Hawke ducked past some odd machinery, tanks, and pipes, making her way to the door and the grimy, cracked window beside it. She pulled her sleeve over her palm and swiped across the dirt and debris. She peered into the dull light outside before sighing. "Balls."

"What is it?" Cassandra snapped, instantly at Hawke's side. Hawke looked over her shoulder wearily.

"The good news is that we're inside the gates of Redcliffe." Hawke quipped, laying her hand reassuringly on her hound's head.

"And the bad news…?" Maria asked.

"We're inside the gates of Redcliffe." Cassandra stated, pounding her fist against the wall beside the window. "Maker preserve us."

"I'm assuming that's bad." Maria tightened her grip on her pistol automatically. Varric sighed and rubbed the rough stubble of his jaw thoughtfully.

"There are defenses at the gates." He explained slowly. "It's why we went through the tunnels in the first place."

"But we're behind them now." Hawke tapped her fingers against the glass in the window pane thoughtfully. "We could use this. Make a distraction here, draw most of the attention to the gates while we…"

"Sneak right behind them?" Varric asked. "Tall order here, Hawke."

"Go big or go home, right?" Hawke's grin took on that manic edge.

"Water." Bea murmured, letting her fingers reach out to touch the pipe. "It's poisoned. The red is deep, dark, twisted. It sings in the pipes, in the ground."

"Not shocking, but also not helpful." Hawke sighed, looking around the room thoughtfully. Bea ignored her, trailing her fingers across the pipes, humming under her breath as she traced them across the room, hips swaying to the music in her head.

"What type of distraction are you thinking?" Cassandra asked briskly.

"Fire?" Hawke supplied. Varric sighed as if he knew that was going to be the answer.

"How original." Dorian drawled. Hawke shot a glare back at him and her dog growled at her heels.

"There's nothing to burn here, Hawke." Varric gestured to the barren room, full of nothing but pipes, concrete, and metal.

"I wouldn't say nothing." Hawke grumbled, eyes still very pointedly latched onto Dorian.

"They tried to purify the water. Disinfect. Different ways." Bea continued, eyeing one of the tanks speculatively before tapping it. It made a sound that wasn't quite hollow and she nodded to herself, sweeping those red tinged eyes around. "UV light, best way. Environmentally friendly. Venatori wouldn't care, of course. Doubt it would have worked anyway."

"Glad to see something from school stuck." Maria muttered, watching Bea from the corner of her eye as she moved to the window. Her eyes were drawn, immediately, up to the sky.

What was left of the sky, at any rate. It looked like a shattered mirror, inky swirling blackness spreading like cracks across the dreary clouds. Lights flashed, ominously, from within them and Maria felt the bottom of her stomach fall out.

"When did it…?" She asked, leaning forward and touching her own palm to the window.

She nearly jumped as Varric's palm settled on the small of her back, but if he noticed he didn't remove it or comment on her reaction. Instead, he looked out the window as well with a tight frown.

"After you died." Varric confessed quietly. "The worst part is that we haven't had internet in ages. I don't even want to know how many unread emails I have."

"Shame that." Maria said weakly. "There was a new show I really wanted to binge."

Varric chuckled quietly. Dorian harrumphed from behind them.

"I could cast a hex to harness…"

"If we cast a hex or start cursing things, they're gonna fucking know they've got witches that don't belong to them hanging around." Hawke folded her arms over her chest and planted her feet firmly on the ground to stare down Dorian.

"She has a point, Sparkler. At that point in time, we may as well just start shooting." Varric's hand dropped from her back and for a moment, she missed the steady pressure. Until something crashed into the concrete with a heavy metallic thud. All their eyes swung immediately to Bea, her small form standing above a large canister.

"Andraste's ass, Bea." Varric swung forward, exasperated. "Maybe make a little more noise, let them know we're here."

"I would have tried chlorine first." Bea continued, oblivious. "But it's hard to get. Harder now. Lots of hospitals have these, though. Easy to steal from the corpses in the wheelchairs."

"Have what?" Maria asked as Bea pulled another one of the canisters away from the wall. It rolled forward with a heavy clunk that sent something skittering into another dark corner. Maria shuddered in revulsion and stepped back.

Bea tapped the canister with a wicked, sky smile. "Oxygen is explosive."