I had expected scowls of templars and magi alike lining the walls of my Tower upon my return. I had expected to return, and find that no one had missed me; or that the rumors of my abominations-possessed body were true. I expected to walk past the apprentice dorm and see the fear and mistrust on the faces of my former friends as they turned and murmured to one another about the stories of my departure. My banishment.

No mage has ever been banished from a tower..

I almost found myself in a state of admiration for the title. Isthalla, the mage who invoked the wrath of Greagoir and lived. Isthalla, the only one ever to be kicked out of the Circle. It was endearing, at best.

Today, it felt bitter.

As we crossed the dark lake of the tower, I stared down at the waters, thinking of earlier times. Thinking of how many bodies sat at the bottom of the lake. Some I had known; some I had never had the chance to know. I remembered seeing the templars as a child, dumping faceless bodies in the lake for those that missed the water and landed on the Circle grounds instead.

I remembered their anguish.

I let my fingertips lace across the water, rippling in a distilled moment of quiet. How calm the waters were; how different than I remembered as a child. To the tower magi, Lake Calenhad was a great, foaming monster with teeth and claws, not taking a second's breath to take you under and devour your soul alive. It looked different from the other side.

I had never expected to be crossing over this lake again, much less step foot on the opposite shore where those big, iron gates loomed over me the same as they had as a child. I still felt so terribly small and meek standing against them. I could still imagine the eyes of a monster perched upon their great, iron walls.

But inside was a different story. Inside, we found the stench of death and fear. The sound of distant screams that sent my nerves on edge and heart thrashing. Greagoir looked like he had seen a ghost.

The tower is taken..

The words echoed dully off my mind, though I hadn't comprehended them. I was too busy watching the others, my eyes desperately scanning the room for his red hair; his sad, brown eyes. I could feel my stomach twist over in knots when I saw just how scarce left of them there were in the entrance hall - and that he wasn't there.

The Rite of Annulment is where I returned to the conversation, the place where my entire body instantly bristled and I turned my teeth on Greagoir. He may have revoked me from my home (funny how I once called it a prison), but I would never allow his wrathful hands into the innocence of the tower. They had nothing to do with this.

Absolutely nothing.

I fought him, I combated him there in the entrance hall with every templar - injured or not - standing warily by with their remembering eyes trained on me. I would take on every last one of the mongrels if they wanted; let them try.

Greagoir offered a compromise - an in-between. He saw the look in my eyes; the knowing brimstone of determination that I would not back down. He did not feel ready to take on that threat, my provocation. If I could simply get inside and find Irving - bring him back - I could save them. If I could get inside-

I will find you.

I made no questions for ifs or maybes. He was there. He had to be. For all my taunts, I knew him to be a skilled templar - perhaps higher than any of his peers. He was a well-trained templar, unfortunately, and if I knew anything about him… he was still alive. He was fighting. He would not abandon the tower as Greagoir had, the coward. Him and all his men hunkering in the entrance like frightened children. Damn them all.

We rushed down the corridor, myself lost in a frantic daze as I threw the obstacles aside, frantically searching the rooms for those, the ones I knew and cared about. I hid the choke that just barely bubbled in my throat as I found the cold dead eyes of their familiar faces, their bodies still freshly slaughtered with their blood decorating the walls. I swallowed hard, ignoring my twisting stomach, and moved on. There was no time for grief; I had to find the ones still alive.

Never in my life did I expect to be so glad to see Wynne, as sure-footed and fiery as I remembered her with her staff raised at the magical force field. I saw the pain in her face, and the distraught will of her dying strength. She could not keep the barrier up; I would not leave her to die. My gaze found the children, and something stirred deep in my chest as I saw the fear in their eyes, and recalled the feeling as well. Greagoir had wanted to leave them to the wolves. He would have let them die in here, alone, without a single flicker of hope.

I would not abandon a single soul left inside.

For all that was left of me, I would not let Greagoir dispose of them as he had of me. Damn him to hell for so quickly thinking he could offer innocent children up as bait for these monsters. I felt the bitter rage consume me, well-prepared to take on every damn abomination and templar alike in this tower, and fight my way out through the Chantry itself if need be. Greagoir would not have them.

I would die before I would see such a merciless act committed on my brothers, my sisters, and my teachers. This was all I had to recall of a family. Faces that had meant nothing to me were now my only grasp of hope and determination. They were all I had to grasp, and my hands would be cold, dead claws before he pried them away.

Alistair did not see this cause so readily.

I had never cared to pay attention to him; though he mentioned he had trained as a templar, I felt no ready threat. Not until he stepped in, and took the side of him, the Commander and my enemy. He was the fire blazing in my eyes, and the bitter memory in my heart as the one who had cast us away and murdered us into the hands of our attackers, these demons.

How could you?

Someone I had never cared for of his opinion now so suddenly and eagerly wounded me. I felt anger, and surprise, by his words. They stung me like none other. Perhaps because I had seen a likeness in him; a same eager and kind likeness to the templar I so desperately wanted to find again. He shattered that invisible respect within seconds from the moment the words left his lips.

These are not people, Isthalla. Not anymore.

I reacted with anger, and rage. I tore every shred of confidence he had apart, and left him bleeding at the back of the group with a terror written in his eyes that I had prior not accomplished. Let him suffer and grieve over his words. I never wanted to see his face again. I hated him from that moment. I could not put into words what wrath he now invoked within my heart.

So now I know where you stand, templar..

I had made it my decision to ignore him for the rest of the journey, with Wynne at my front and Morrigan lingering behind, perhaps to make sure he did not run off like the coward he was. Wretched, pitiful bastard. My lips curled in disgust as I considered his words. He wanted to run, save his own hide, and sacrifice all these mages to abominations? Let them feed off their flesh as mere food?

I would make sure he saw exactly what it would mean to throw them to these creatures. I wanted to see the horror in his eyes when he saw exactly what an abomination looked like, and what it was like to witness an innocent mage being eaten alive by those monsters.

I darkly fantasized about these things, seething and infuriated, when we came around the staircase and I heard her again.

You should make him suffer…

"ISTHALLA, PLEASE!"

I stopped at the top of the stairs, the wind knocked out of my chest at the sound of his voice. Tears enveloped my eyes, briefly, as I struggled to regain myself. Wynne sensed the disturbance, and turned on me in an instant.

"Isthalla, are you all right?" she tried. I could hear the sensing concern in her voice, the type that waited on the well-remembered history of my dealings with spirits. They were never very fond of my presence. I saw the knowing glint in her eye, the quiet don't-let-them-in look that made a cold chill settle in my stomach.

"It's nothing," I brushed off without thinking. I forced myself to press forward, then froze at the archway when I saw her there, standing in the middle of the room with the remnants of a mage bleeding in her grasp. The girl uttered a final, sobbing cry before her head was cracked in half and she dropped her body to the floor. I bit back the noise that struck my throat, and clenched my mouth shut.

"Isthalla…" she purred, gliding forward with a tilting smile on her poisoned lips. "What are you doing here, love?" Her black eyes warmed at the sight of me as she reached out a clawed hand and brushed the bangs from my eyes. "And looking so distraught, my poor darling," she cooed, tsk'ing with a shake of her head. I was completely rigid.

"Why are you here?" I ground out, feeling my skin crawling with fear. This was the waking world, she shouldn't be here. I had proved to myself she was well-contained within the realm of the Fade, where she belonged. No mage was stupid enough to let her out.

She laughed at this, circling around to my side to rest her cheek upon my shoulder. I shuddered at the embrace, though I knew she could feel the welcoming falter in my posture. I couldn't help myself.

"My darling girl," she whispered with a chuckle, "you know better than that.." She tapped my nose and moved back around front. "What better welcoming am I to be given?" she said while gesturing around the blood-splattered room, freshly littered with bodies. "They practically rolled out the carpet for me, my pet."

I felt a snarl pull at my lips.

"Are you the cause of all this?" I ground out, feeling my grip tightening around my staff. She looked genuinely surprised, and lowered down from her floating perch to set her feet upon the stone floor. Her hair collected around her in a weightless, dancing wave of coal black and midnight fire.

"But of course not," she said, wounded. A frown pulled at her mouth. "I would never do such a thing without you to enjoy it with me," she nodded.

"Then who did this?" I snarled, feeling my patience drawing to a close. My hand was beginning to shake around my staff. She paused, absorbing my stance, then quietly shifted back to my side, leaning in until I could feel the chill of her breath on my lips.

"You, of course," she whispered. My heart skipped a beat.

I stepped back, eyes widening. "NO, I didn't-" I shook my head, glaring at her. I remembered what Wynne had said.

This is Uldred's doing..

She was lying; I would never do this to them, never!

Hush, my little Isthalla…

I turned my violent gaze back on her, a vengeful snarl on my lips. She was smiling across the room at me, now.

Hush my sweet, I was only jesting…

You are too soft for this treachery. I know what you seek…

My breath caught in my throat as I instantly formed the image of his face, in perfectly remembered detail, in my mind. Sad, lost brown eyes - wearied by the nights he suffered through ill-conceived doubts and fear. A silly, foolish little grin betraying his lips. Strict, yet kind face. Brazen red hair so carefully pressed back it looked silly.

Cullen..

I shut my eyes to try and force the grief of his name away. She was back at my side in an instant, threading her delicate claws through my hair, comforting me.

"Darling, it's all right…" she murmured. "I'm here to protect you." I was shaking with tears out of my control, now. I could not contain the emotions anymore; those I had so carefully forced away from the moment I stepped out of the tower. I fell to my knees in a fit of overwhelming fear as I imagined him lying dead, helpless, and with the eyes of a demon as his last waking vision.

He abandoned your templar…

My eyes flew open to stare at the floor. I saw blood splatter stained just in front of me; fresh. I swallowed, trying to quell my pain, but instead found it being replaced by a deep, stirring rage. She whispered into my ear.

He would have sacrificed your Cullen to these creatures…

Left him to die.

Left them all to die.

I felt my blinding anger fixating on his face, a red target in my eyes. Her cold hands brushed my shaking arms.

He should suffer for what he said…

I realized what she was asking. I knew what she wanted, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. My hands shook against the stone floor, blurry eyes fixated on the blood stained deep into the ground. It would stay there forever. The life of someone I knew, stained into the very core of this tower.

Let me take him..

Hurt him, as he hurt you..

I could feel the no already forming on my lips, but felt the burn of my heart screaming for vengeance. My heart wanted him to suffer, to feel the agony I had felt when Greagoir ripped the Circle away from me, and crushed my broken heart along with it. I wanted him to suffer as I had suffered.

I swallowed hard, still staring at the blood, and forced my mind away from the idea. I thought of Cullen, still trapped in the tower. Still trying to fight his way out and save the others.

He would save them..

I knew if I were going to finish this battle, I had to do it through his eyes. I had to see through the compassion of his heart, and not my own. I did not possess the compassion and love necessary to bring this tower out of the ashes in time; but he would. My templar would. Maker preserve me, I would act in his stead. I could not push myself through this alone, but perhaps he could.

With my heart set, I pushed myself to my feet and focused my mind. I must clear it of her; rid her illusions away. The task was suspiciously quick as the illusion of the dead girl's body vanished, and I was left standing in the center of the chamber with Wynne just at my heels.

Then Morrigan screamed.

"Alistair!"

A great, dropping dread filled my chest as I heard the telltale sound of his body dropping cold onto the floor. My heart froze, and body tensed as I heard the fading laughter of her voice in my mind.

They will never learn…

I turned in an instant, my wary eyes trained on Morrigan as she knelt at his side and began to reach out a fearful hand.

"Don't touch him," I ordered. Her eyes were wild with fear and grief.

"..No-" she shook her head. I knew she was already rejecting what I saw to be happening. "No, Isthalla he didn't! I was watching!""..No-" she shook her head. She was afraid; I had never warned her this could happen to him. I should have. "No, Isthalla he didn't! I was watching!" My jaw ticked.

I stepped up, pressing the tip of my staff against her shoulder to push her back. He still remained motionless, but I knew not for long.

I felt my heart grow heavy with burden as I knew what I had done, and could no longer undo. She had taken my invitation.

"Step back, all of you," I warned as I saw the flicker of light appear in his eyes. I raised my staff, using the other hand to usher Morrigan and Wynne behind me. He twisted unnaturally to his feet, and the moment I met the white eyes, I knew who I was facing. She smiled wickedly at me.

Silly, foolish Isthalla…

Alistair was taken.