CHAPTER 5

..x..

Wagons made up the Dalish camp, called Aravels in the elven tongue. Each one a work of art, carved from pine wood and adorned with colorful sails that helped carry them through the forests and open fields of Ferelden. They represented a sad period of an ancient past when the elves were cast out from their lands and left to wander Thedas without a home to call their own. As such, they were a valuable part of their culture and their identity. But although beautiful and magnificent to look at, right now their reds, greens, and blues were dulled by the sight that greeted them when they finally met the clan's Keeper.

"Werewolves…" Everil echoed quietly.

"That's right…" Zathrian somberly nodded a bald head, his withered hand gripping a mage's staff. Unlike the scouts from before, he wore robes the color of pine and moss, while feathers decorated a charm hanging from his neck. He carried swirling marks over his forehead, easily visible over his pale, wrinkled skin. A sigh escaped him and he elaborated further, "They have been systematically attacking my people, dragging them out into the forest, never to be seen again. Those we manage to save are badly injured... As you can see."

She folded her arms, casting a sympathetic look on the bloodied elves lying on the ground. There were many. All writhing in agony as the local healers cleaned and dressed their wounds. How terrible…

The Keeper continued, a hint of grief in his voice. "What is worse… is that those attacked appear to be cursed by those beasts. They will transform into the same creatures, mindless and savage, out for blood. So we will eventually be forced to end their suffering in order to prevent even more deaths, as well as the spread of the infection." He sighed bitterly, his eyes downcast. "I am sorry, but regardless of the treaty signed by my predecessor, I cannot lend you our aid until I know my people are safe again."

Sighing quietly, the Warden gazed over the injured once more. "Is there anything that can be done to help your people?"

Zathrian's expression subtly brightened with hope. "There is one thing... Obtaining the heart of the werewolf leader—Witherfang. Killing it can cure my people and eliminate the threat at its core. But… those I sent to accomplish this task never returned. Perhaps you and your companions have what it takes to get it done."

"All right then…" She gave him a firm nod, finding they had little choice in the matter. They needed the elves in this war. "We will help you. But you must promise to keep your word and lend us your aid afterward."

A smile tugged at his lips and he bowed his head. "Of course... You have my word, Grey Warden. But remember... Witherfang's heart is the key."

Everil didn't miss the glint in his eyes when he mentioned the wolf leader's name, the smirk on his face unnerving her. Something about him was off, but she couldn't quite place it. "So where do we start searching for this Witherfang?"

He aimed his staff towards the other side of camp and to a path leading further into the forest. "The last scouts I sent said they saw it near the ancient temple my people occupied long ago. Be careful, however... The temple may still be protected by magic meant to keep out intruders."

"Understood." Everil looked in the same direction and set her jaw, recalling their prior encounter with the creatures. There was no way of knowing how many of them awaited them in those woods or in that temple, and that alone concerned her. They would need to be careful along the way and return with the heart as quickly as possible.

.x.x.x.x.

The Wardens led the way on foot this time, followed by Bjorn, Morrigan, and Wynne after leaving the rest of their party to help protect the Dalish camp. And the deeper into the woods they went the more intricate the trails became. Their path twisted around the terrain, snaking through more Tevinter ruins and under natural bridges. The sound of a waterfall came from somewhere in the distance, joined by the rustling of leaves and the creaking of the branches swaying over them.

"This place…" Morrigan whispered with an involuntary shiver. "'Tis… filled with so much death. Possibly from old battles that took place in Ferelden's ancient history."

"I feel it too…" Wynne added sadly. "And as they say… Where there is too much death, the veil grows weak as the souls push through. I wouldn't be surprised if the very trees around us carried wandering spirits from the Fade."

Eventually, they entered an open area where a great waterfall poured its waters into a large pool. A series of wooden bridges were built over it, leading to the other side and to another path. They were walking through one when a shape ahead made Everil pause midway and extend her arm, halting the group. Narrowing her eyes, she watched as the fog dispersed and revealed a man-made-beast, its glowing eyes set upon them.

She cautiously drew her weapon and began to edge closer while her friends did the same. However, the werewolf did not attack them this time. It spoke instead as she approached, in a voice deep and gruff. "You were sent by Zathrian… weren't you?"

Everil regarded him suspiciously, seeing more of the same sinister eyes hiding beyond the trees behind the creature. "I came to help his people… Why are you attacking them? Where is Witherfang?"

"You are an outsider… blinded by his lies. You know nothing of our suffering—of what this curse has done to us all." It barked and then snarled at her, showing sharp teeth. "And yet you seek our leader? I will not let you near her!"

So there was something the Keeper wasn't telling me, after all, Everil deduced inwardly, then spoke solemnly. "No, I'm not here at Zathrian's behest… not exactly. If there's something I must know that would keep us from fighting, I'm more than willing to listen."

The monster seemed to hesitate, its attention flickering to her blade. "Hrm…"

Seeing this, Everil lifted a hand and sheathed her sword. "It's all right. We won't attack you," she said, motioning for the others to also put away their weapons.

This visibly shocked the creature.

"My name is Everil." She reached for a handshake. "Please, let us talk."

He scrutinized her hand for a moment, still unsure of her intentions. Until reason triumphed over fear and it began to reach out. Large claws were about to clasp her much smaller hand when the snap of a bowstring was heard. An arrow shot out from the woods, gracing the wolf's arm and taking the Warden by surprise. Howling in pain, the werewolf withdrew and struck, forcing Everil to drop on a knee and away from the sharp talons. Her head snapped in the direction of the trees, seeing movement as elves hid behind the brush.

"Kill them!" he roared before spinning about and making for the cover of the forest. The other werewolves charged at their leader's command, stampeding through the shallow waters. Snarls and barks joined the growl of the waterfall as they closed the distance and pounced at the party.

Everil rose to her feet and drew Elethea as one of them attacked her. She ducked, avoiding a sideways swipe, then swung, cutting through one of its arms. Another ran past her, heading for the other Warden. Alistair brought up his shield, blocking its claws before hitting it across the face with the edge. The wolf staggered backward and struck again, hitting air when he dodged. His blade then found the creature's side, slashing it open. Morrigan and Wynne backed away as one of the werewolves darted around the Wardens, heading straight for them. Bjorn leaped between them and pounced, latching onto the monster's neck.

The howls multiplied as more of them attacked, but this time a wave of arrows cut their path, taking out some in mid-sprint. Blood quickly stained the clear waters, flowing like red wine from the bodies now lying within. One of the surviving monsters turned to what was left of its friends, signaling a retreat and leaving their fallen behind.

Everil let out a breath, surveying the downed beasts with growing irritation. There was more to them than bloodlust in spite of what Zathrian had said and it was evident something was driving them to attack the elves. Had she found out what it was that caused them to hate them so much, perhaps they could have solved the problem much faster and in a peaceful way. Now they had to venture further into the woods and follow them to their lair, where they no doubt would attack the moment they set foot in it.

"Who fired the arrows?" Alistair asked from beside her, sheathing his blade.

"I have a pretty good idea who," she uttered moodily, taking a step towards the woods. "Come out! I know you're still out there!"

"Good senses, for a shem…"

The same girl who greeted them outside of the Dalish camp emerged from the brush along with some of the men she commanded. She walked across the shallow waters, bow in hand and a scowl on her face. Everil stalked towards her, met her halfway, and roughly grabbed her by the front of her tunic. "Why are you here!"

She met her glare, unfazed and defiant. "You need not do any talking, Warden. Just do as our Keeper says. Those beasts killed some of my men and turned others into monsters. They deserve to die."

Everil's jaw tensed. They were missing half the story but she couldn't fault her for wanting revenge for the deaths of her friends. Still, she would keep her from it a while longer—at least until they could find out what was happening.

"No," she said, shoving her away. The elf landed on her rear with a splash while her brethren promptly pointed their arrows at the Warden, angered by her transgression.

"Watch it…" Alistair took a warning step, drawing his blade once more while Morrigan and Wynne also summoned flames to their hands.

Everil ignored the other elves, still staring her down. "Take your men and leave."

"These are my people dying!" Mithra retorted, her features twisted into bitter rage. "You are a fool if you believe you can stop me from avenging those I lost and protecting my camp!"

"I don't intend on keeping you from protecting your people, but you are throwing yourselves at an enemy you cannot defeat alone!" Everil sighed and shook her head. "You now have Grey Wardens willing to lend you a hand in this. So you will be the foolish one if you don't step aside and let us handle things from here."

For a moment, the elf glowered stubbornly at her, baring her gritted teeth. Then she glanced over her shoulder. "Stand down…"

The men exchanged skeptical looks at her command, but slowly lowered their weapons.

"Good girl." Everil put away her blade. "Now, I would return to camp if I were you. You've caused me enough trouble as it is." With that, she and the others continued crossing over the pool without sparing them another glance.

Mithra's hands closed tightly into fists as she stared after them, frustrated by her own failure.

"Mithra," One of the men walked up, leaning over to help her up. "Are you all right? Are you certain we should let them go?"

She let out a huff, running a hand through her soaked hair. "Yes… I just hope Keeper Zathrian is right about them…"

.x.x.x.x.

A strange mist shrouded the temple, thick with moisture and magic. Roots and vines crawled over the rock, nearly making the ruins one with the forest. But despite the vegetation's attempts at claiming it, the structure still stood regally, imposing its presence over the trees in a display of resilience against the passing of time. Everil admired it in subtle wonderment, along with Morrigan, who took a step next to her. "This is a Tevinter structure... look at the statues," said the witch, pointing at one of them. "Yet it has some elven features... How odd."

"It was probably altered with magic," Everil replied and began approaching the building. "Shall we see what lies inside?"

"Besides a pack of angry wolves?" Alistair half-joked with a wry smile, following after her.

"Yes, besides that..." She pushed open the heavy doors, cautiously gazing inside. They entered a massive chamber, with columns of white stone and a once polished floor that still retained some of the luster. Crumbled statues littered the place, their limbs and heads scattered about. Three passages were connected to the hall, all leading in different directions. The one on the left was blocked by rubble, the one at the center led further into the temple, while the one on the right had a door slightly ajar.

"I wonder if they're really here..." Everil walked over to the right first. As she grew near and reached for the handle, the door slammed shut, the force echoing loudly around them. She was about to question who shut it when a low growl from within gave her the answer.

"Sounds like they are…" Alistair said.

With a sigh, she turned to her party and pointed a thumb over her shoulder. "That's where we need to go so we have to find a way around."

"This seems to be the only way." Wynne motioned for the path at the center of the hall.

Nodding, Everil went towards it and entered first while the others trekked after her. They descended a steep slope, their footsteps echoing in the constricted space. Spider webs hung from the ceiling, white, sticky silk swaying with the nearly imperceptible breeze flowing from the crevices between the stones. The scent of dust, dirt, and moisture crowded their nostrils, making it slightly difficult to breathe.

A bit of dirt fell from the ceiling above, landing on Alistair's shoulder. He brushed it off. "Is it just me or does the roof over us look like it's about to fall apart?"

"'Tis an ancient structure overtaken by the forest… 'Tis probably held together by magic alone, unlike that Grey Warden tower in the Wilds," said Morrigan.

"Ugh…!" Everil frantically swatted at a web she'd walked into, the prospect of a spider crawling over her sending chills down her spine. "This is a nightmare!"

"Calm down..." Morrigan approached her, using slender fingers to brush the offending thing off her face. "At least 'tis a common web. Giant spiders love abandoned places such as these. We are sure to eventually run into them, as well."

Everil sighed, letting the witch pluck silk from her hair. "Thank you... Now I hate this place even more."

"Wait a minute..." Alistair stepped closer with a teasing grin. "Is our mighty leader afraid of spiders?"

She awkwardly avoided his stare, heat rising to her cheeks. "N-Not afraid... just… disgusted by them."

He chuckled, finding her uncharacteristic reaction utterly adorable.

A distant bang, like a hammer hitting rock, interrupted them, resonating from the way ahead. The group exchanged serious glances before they cautiously followed it, heading further down the passage. After they took a few tentative steps, another dull bang came from directly above them, halting them and prompting them to stand still. They gazed up as their surroundings shook, causing small rocks and dirt to trickle down from a new crack in the ceiling.

Everil paled. "Ooh, no…"

Then another, much louder, bang rumbled over them and the same crack split the rock, stretching and growing.

"Run!" she cried out, shoving Morrigan forward first, then Alistair and Wynne. They moved as fast as they could when the ceiling caved, crumbling behind them as they fought to outrun it. The passage split into a T and Morrigan and Alistair hurried to the left, while Wynne nearly tripped. Everil grabbed her and made a mad dash through the cloud of dust now blocking their view, dragging her with her while Bjorn followed after her.

The deafening rumble of the collapse stopped and they coughed as the dust settled over them. One last stone bounced down the pile of rubble now blocking what remained of the passage, dropping all the way to the ground. A series of rough laughs followed from over them, growing quieter as the werewolves responsible retreated from their handy work.

With effort, Everil slowly pushed herself to her feet while Wynne tried to sit up beside her.

"Everil!" came Alistair's panicked voice, muffled by the rocks. "Are you guys all right!"

She gave Wynne a concerned look, at which the mage nodded in reassurance. Meanwhile, Bjorn sat and shook the dirt off his fur.

"We're fine!" Everil yelled back, coughing lightly. "What about you and Morrigan?"

"We're fine but uh…" There was a pause. "I don't think we'll be able to get through here."

Morrigan's faint words followed his. "Thank you for stating the obvious, Alistair."

"Maker's breath... Of all the people I could have ended up with, it just had to be you."

Everil rolled her eyes at the two and looked over her shoulder to see an open hallway behind them. She returned her gaze to the rubble. "We have another path we can follow. Do the two of you have a way out on your end?"

There was another pause.

"Yes, I see one," Alistair called out.

"Good!" she breathed in relief. "Let's hope we can meet at the other end. Work together and try not to kill each other, all right?"

"I promise nothing," she heard Morrigan say, picturing the smirk on her face.

"All right. I will see you on the other side," she turned to leave.

"Everil?"

"Yes?" She stopped, eyes reverting to the rocks upon hearing his voice.

"Be careful in there."

Her lips curled into a smile. "You too."

And Everil kept walking, leading the mage and hound down their only way out.

.x.x.x.x.

Alistair shook his head with a sigh and turned away from the cave-in before stepping past Morrigan, heading for the open door at the end of the hall. The witch went after him, staff in hand. Both crossed through the doorway and entered another long corridor, lit only by some dimming torches.

"Do you think the bastards know we're alive?" he asked quietly, ears alert for any sound other than their own footsteps.

She nodded. "They appear to be relatively intelligent, so 'tis likely they would have placed men at the exits."

"Heh… Yes, that sounds about right."

They continued on in awkward silence, with Alistair a short distance in front of her as Morrigan stared ahead with disinterest. The narrow path eventually opened up into a small room. A sort of sitting area, with old wooden benches and a broken statue at the center. A pair of doors came into view across from them and he approached them. He attempted to open them but they wouldn't budge. "Great… They're locked," he muttered irritably, finding no other way through. "Now what?"

"Step aside."

Alistair turned to her just as she hurled a fiery ball his way. He jumped out of the way with a yelp, the fire narrowly missing him. "Damn it, Morrigan!" He shot her a glare. "You almost burned me!"

"Oh, quit your whining, fool. 'Tis open now," she retorted with a dirty look of her own.

He faced the door, watching as the wood around the lock crumbled to the ground along with it. Grumbling something about rotten luck and evil witches, Alistair drew his blade and proceeded to kick open what was left of it. Only to find himself in the sights of a ballista a few yards ahead and a werewolf ready to fire. It snapped, hurling a projectile straight for them. He reacted with no time to think, whirling about and tackling Morrigan to the ground. The spear flew mere inches over them, nearly hitting them both as they fell, but instead impaling the wall behind them.

Shock fell over her as she found herself pinned beneath his body. And at that moment, as she lay with his arms around her, Morrigan realized just how muscular he was. She heard him huff by her ear and felt him shift when he lifted his head to look at her. Their gazes met, and the skip in her heart it caused snapped her back to reality, sending her into a frantic panic. "Get off of me!" she yelled, shoving him and kneeing him.

"Ow!" Alistair moved away, rubbing his aching side. "I just saved your life and yet you hit me?"

Yellow eyes narrowed dangerously. "I should turn you into a pile of burning coals!"

Another snap was heard, prompting them to look at the ballista just as another spear flew towards them. They both went prone, covering their heads as it cut the air over them, shattering against the statue in the room.

"Wait, stop!" Alistair called to the werewolf, sitting up to glare at it. "We're not here to fight, we just want to talk!"

It ignored him as it roared, then promptly loaded another shot and fired, forcing both Warden and mage to hit the ground once more. "Agh, that's it!" Alistair grunted, quickly pushing himself to his feet. "I'm killing the bastard!"

He ran out of the room and to a large chamber lined with broken weapons, heading straight for the creature before it could reload. Seeing this, it rushed towards him, pouncing with claws extended.

Alistair blocked with his shield and then hit him with it, throwing him off balance before stabbing through its stomach. It growled, gripping his sword as its eyes bore into his. And then it threw its head back and howled, summoning a series of barks and roars that made him gaze up to the second level of the chamber.

"Damn it…" His jaw tensed upon seeing more of them pour in from above. He withdrew his blade from the monster's gut and slashed across its chest, sending it to the ground. He spun about, ready to engage the incoming wave of enemies when suddenly his sword was set aflame, brightening the hall like a torch. Alistair's gaze went to Morrigan, who was now lowering her hand. He gave her a grateful nod before rushing in to engage their new opponents.

.x.x.x.x.

Bjorn sniffed the ground ahead of the two women as they trekked through the narrow path. More cobwebs of different sizes covered every corner, making Everil increasingly nervous, something she was trying to hide behind a look of pure determination. The older woman next to her seemed calm however, carefully scanning their surroundings.

They certainly hadn't talked much since Redcliffe, too busy running around for conversation. That and Wynne usually went to sleep as soon as her tent was up, seemingly too tired to stay up with the rest of them. She had to give the old mage credit, for despite her obviously worn appearance she had yet to complain once within their travels.

"Do you need to rest?" Everil asked worriedly.

"No, I'm quite all right." Wynne gave her a sad smile. "You know... You did not have to help me back there."

She grinned. "Well I couldn't just let the roof fall on you, now could I?"

"I am an old woman... you could have left me and saved yourself. Then you would not be in this predicament."

"You offered to help me with the Blight. The least I can do is keep my word to your First Enchanter and make sure you remain in one piece."

Wynne let out a breath, eyes downcast. "I probably shouldn't have offered. I am doing nothing but holding you back."

"Oh, come now. Do you honestly think I would've brought you along if I thought you a burden? You're powerful and experienced, while the rest of us are all youngsters trying to save the world." She chuckled. "Well.. except for Sten. I don't even know how old he is." That earned her a light laugh from the mage and Everil smiled at her. "I'm glad you're here with us. We need someone like you to keep us grounded."

"You are too kind. Though I must say you seem to have a good grasp on things without my help."

"I try... Which is all I can do," Everil replied with a heavy sigh. She wasn't one to show her troubles to others, but somehow the old woman's warm presence made it easier to speak of her uncertainties.

"And that is enough, obviously. Not many could have picked up this mantle you carry and continue fighting as you have. I knew the Cousland name carried a great deal of weight in Ferelden, but now I can truly see why," Wynne said firmly, drawing a surprised look from her. "Your family must be quite proud."

"Thanks…" she whispered, sadness crossing over her eyes. Yes, she knew much was riding on her making the right choices and following the correct paths. In fact, the more they learned of Ferelden's situation, the more pressure she felt. But what she said truly helped her realize that perhaps that's how it was meant to be. That she may have been destined to be the one bearing the burden because no one else would in her place.

A brief silence fell over them, then Wynne spoke again, a bit more hesitant. "There is a matter I've been meaning to ask you about… if you will forgive my bluntness."

"Go on."

"What is the relationship between you and Alistair?"

The Warden sent her a bewildered look at the question. The others were yet to ask her something this personal, about a matter she figured didn't need an explanation. Wynne, however, seemed genuinely concerned as she waited patiently for a response. Everil's brow furrowed as she attempted to pick the right thing to say. "He and I… We have been through a lot together. He's very important to me."

"You are a Grey Warden and he is the son of a king. Any romantic involvement between you two is destined for hardship. For the sake of humanity, Grey Wardens must remain committed to their cause, to do anything and everything to ensure victory—this to the point of personal sacrifice. As our leader, you may eventually be forced to make those types of decisions."

"I… Uhm… I think you're making things sound worse than they really are," she stammered awkwardly.

"You should see the way the boy looks at you when he thinks no one is looking... It's almost too sweet for my taste. I would hate to see him suffer when such time comes."

For a few seconds, Everil stared at her feet, unsure of how to respond. She may be right. But now that she put more thought into it, knowing that their time together may be fleeting actually made her want to be with him even more. To enjoy their present to the fullest when either of them could perish at any given moment. "I appreciate your concern for him... and for me. But Alistair isn't a child, and neither am I," she said, offering her a half-smile. "Know that I will not shirk away from my duties as a Grey Warden and that I will take your words into consideration should my relationship with him get in the way of our mission… but our relationship is ultimately our business, and no one else's."

The mage released a soft breath of defeat. "I have given my advice. Do with it what you will."

Bjorn whined, looking ahead into the dark corridor and drawing their attention. During their talk, they hadn't noticed they neared a part of the passage connecting to a room that was shrouded in pitch-black darkness.

Everil drew her sword, warily stepping closer to her hound. "What is it, boy? Is something in there?"

He snarled and growled in response, baring his fangs at the black wall before them.

She glanced at Wynne. "Can you cast a fire spell for light?"

"Of course." Wynne flicked her wrist, drawing a flame around her hand. She approached the young woman, standing beside her and lifting her arm. The small fire illuminated the chamber, revealing massive spider webs covering the room, while bundled objects hung from the ceiling or clung to the walls. A screech pierced through the silence as heavy, rhythmic thumps came from the shadows where Wynne's light could not reach, growing louder. Closer.

"That doesn't sound good..." Everil muttered, taking in the webs covering every inch of the ceiling while recalling Morrigan's earlier words. She gulped and took a tentative step just as something began to slowly emerge from the dark.

Eight eyes stared back at her, mounted on a head connected to a large body, a pulsating abdomen, and eight thick legs. Everil felt her pulse quicken, fear gripping her as two more spiders crawled from behind the first. And despite the many nightmares she endured each night since the Joining, this was the worst one yet.

The first charged, moving at a speed she didn't think possible for a creature its size. Refusing to freeze in fear, Everil willed herself forward, slashing at it as it tried to tackle her. She felt her sword crack its exoskeleton, a white goo splashing out before it fell back and squirmed.

"Ugh...!" She shuddered, utterly revolted by the substance now covering her body. But she didn't have time to recover as another one came from her left, attempting to blindside her. Bjorn tackled it head first, flipping it on its back. He jumped on it and bit at its abdomen, chomping away pieces as the creature released a screech.

Everil looked away from him with a groan, forcing down the vile threatening to rise up at the scene. She swallowed thick and clenched her jaw. Blast it! Get it together! Her hold on her weapons tightened and she steeled her resolve, feeding off every ounce of courage she could muster. Another spider came and she ran to it, releasing a battle cry and swinging to slash at its legs. She then spun and brought her sword down on its head, piercing through to the ground.

Behind her, Wynne cast a spell, sending flames across the web and setting three of the creatures on fire. She then unleashed more magic, setting more of them ablaze while a cacophony of high-pitched cries pierced their ears. As the fire spread and lit up the room, the creatures set their sights on the mage, seeing she was the one doing the most damage while also standing defenseless.

Everil glanced up, watching them scurry past her from above, heading for their new target. Cursing under her breath, she whirled around and ran, ignoring the ones still chasing after her. "Wynne!" she called and shoved her to the ground just as the spiders dropped over them. One landed on her and she fell on her back with a grunt, its weight pinning her down.

A mass of legs surrounded her in seconds when the other arachnids came, crowding her vision. "Damn it!" she screamed, dodging venomous fangs that pierced through the rock floor by her head. Barks and growls could be heard as her hound tried to reach her, biting his way through.

Need to get up, need to get up! was the mantra in her head as she slashed at one that tried to steal her away from her current captor.

Growing impatient with her squirms and with its kin, the spider atop her brought clawed legs down upon her. Everil frantically avoided most by the skin of her teeth, yet one managed to hit its mark. A single, razor-sharp claw stabbed through her armor, carving a deep hole under her collarbone. Crying out a curse, Everil found the clarity in her panic to thrust her dagger upwards, stabbing through the creature's upper section. It screeched in agony and tried to bring its legs down again, but was set aflame from behind by Wynne. Everil kicked up with both legs, pushing it off her as she rolled out of the way of its heavy body.

Covering her wound as she knelt on one knee, Everil panted for breath and gazed at the burning bodies of the remaining spiders. All were now dead or dying, shriveling up as their cries slowly died out. Bjorn ran to her, whining upon smelling her blood.

Wynne worriedly did the same, kneeling before her. "Andraste's mercy, are you all right?"

"Oh…" Wincing, Everil lowered her hand and eyed the deep red stain spreading over her gambeson. "Oh, blast it…"

"That was a foolish thing you did," Wynne reprimanded her sternly before proceeding to inspect her with a subtle frown. "Jumping into danger like that for my sake again... I could have handled them with a simple spell, yet here you are."

"Sorry…" The Warden let out a weak chuckle. "It's but a flesh wound though…"

"Yes, fortunately for you, young lady, it's not as serious as it appears. But it will keep bleeding and may become infected if we don't do something about it now... Here, just hold still," the mage instructed before closing her eyes and bringing a hand to her wound. A bright, white light began to glow from her fingers, spreading to cover the injury. It began to mend, the muscle and flesh pulling together and becoming whole again.

Everil stared in wonder at the beauty of her magic, feeling its warmth as the affected area tingled like fresh mint against her skin.

Once done, Wynne lowered her hand with a small smile. "There. It shouldn't bother you anymore."

"Thank you…" Everil rotated her arm and found herself impressed by how quickly she'd healed her. "You have quite the gift, Wynne…"

"Yes, well... I have been doing this for a long time." She put on a gentle smile as she helped her to her feet.

"You will certainly be of great help when the time comes for us to face the darkspawn horde again."

"That is my hope… But considering what just happened, here is my word of caution…" She raised an index finger as if speaking to one of her students. "Conventional white magic can only heal so much damage. Mending major trauma such as broken bones and torn organs is quite difficult and it is dependent on the mage's available mana. Magic also cannot fix severe blood loss, exposure or cure certain types of poison—so you should not think yourself invincible simply because I am here."

"Ah, right… If magic could solve everything, Arl Eamon wouldn't need a fabled Urn..." Everil put on a playful smirk. "And I suppose that also means that attempting to defeat an ogre with my bare hands is out of the question."

Wynne laughed lightly at her jest. "Yes... It very much is."

"All right then…" Everil motioned to the wide arch on the other side of the chamber, where stairs lead up to another door. "Shall we go? The sooner we get out of here, the better."

"Yes. I agree."

The two of them headed for the steps and began to climb, followed by her hound. As they reached the door at the top, vicious growls and yelps could be heard coming from the other side. Whatever was happening, it was clear the werewolves were angry at something or someone. Everil gazed at Wynne from the top of the stairs while the mage responded with a confident nod.

Sword in hand once more, Everil opened the door and they quickly made their way through. They crossed the next short hallway on the second floor, the howls growing louder with every running step. They emerged from another arch and into a large room filled with white pillars, old weaponry, and more broken statues.

She looked to the floor below to see Alistair fighting several werewolves with a flaming sword, while Morrigan provided support by setting some of them aflame or electrocuting them. Seeing they were almost overwhelmed, Everil put away her blade and drew her bow before pulling an arrow in one swift move.

.x.x.x.x.

Alistair grunted as he buried his blade into a beast's chest, drawing its pain-filled howl as the flames spread over its body. Wasting no time, he pulled back and prepared to engage the next as it came running at him on all fours. It was about to jump when an arrow hit the side of its head, dropping it with a yelp. Both he and Morrigan gazed up to see the other Warden take aim again and fire, hitting another feral creature in the neck as it tried to charge at them from behind.

The werewolves growled upon seeing her arrive, finding themselves flanked. And they scrambled to retreat, climbing up the wall and disappearing behind the wide crack from whence they came. Howls and yelps echoed as they dissipated the further they fled and the room soon fell silent.

"I see you two managed to work together!" Everil called out with a chuckle, her voice echoing towards them.

"You could say that!" Alistair shouted back before turning to Morrigan, waving his still flaming weapon. "Could you…?"

She scowled and grumpily waved her staff, dispelling the magic.

"Thank you~" he chimed, sheathing his blade before they both went to reunite with their companions.

Everil hopped from a broken set of stairs while Bjorn also jumped to the floor below. Then she reached up to Wynne, holding her hand as she began to climb down. Once the mage was safely on her feet, she faced the other Warden, who promptly took notice of the blood on her armor.

"What's that?" he asked worriedly, pointing to it. "What happened?"

She followed his line of vision. "Oh, it's nothing."

Wynne smiled up at him from behind her. "She's fine, son. I took care of it."

"Ah, good…" he sighed, glancing past her at the mage before his stern gaze met Everil's once more. "That still doesn't answer my question, however."

She shrugged. "We ran into those disgusting spiders Morrigan mentioned and a handful of them took me by surprise."

"While she was foolheartedly trying to protect dear old me from something I could have handled myself," Wynne interjected, hands at her hips. "She is quite brash and careless."

"So you've not learned your lesson from that little skirmish with the possessed child, after all," Morrigan chimed in smugly from a few steps nearby. "Jumping in to save others with little regard for your own well being. Foolish."

Everil pursed her lips at the women. "I'm not that bad…"

"You've got to be more careful…" Alistair chastised gently, crossing his arms. "What if Wynne hadn't been there to heal you?"

"I know..." she huffed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're right… I'll be more careful from now on."

"Promise?"

"I promise…"

His gaze softened. "Good."

Wynne watched the exchange with interest, smiling a little.

"So now what?" Alistair relaxed his arms with a lopsided grin. "Shall we go kick some tails? Which way should we go?"

Everil searched the area with her eyes, spotting the double doors at the far end of the room. "I guess it would be this way," she replied, leading the group towards them. They crossed the chamber and she pushed the gates open, revealing another passage that stretched out before them.