I had since abandoned my post beside the others and scouted ahead, glancing back every so often to check and make sure another one hadn't fallen to one of my accidental slips of magic. Maker, how did I allow that to happen? It was such a pitiful display of restraint on my part; I was disgusted with myself. A frown kept tugging at my lips the longer I thought about it, and she certainly wasn't helping any. She had returned with biting ferocity, cackling away in my subconscious like a deranged child.

Oh what fun, this glorious eve…

I tried to ignore her, but it resounded as a nagging roar in my ears, making it impossible to decipher the others' chatter floating behind me in the distance as if they stood miles away. I shook my head, lightly, while rounding a corner - careful to lessen my weight on my injured ankle - and gritted my teeth together when I heard her continue on her rant.

Filthy, disgusting, worthless-

"Isthalla-" I felt her hand at my back before I could register the words clearly enough over the audible shrieking the demon was crowding up my thoughts with. I paused, absorbing the words, then turned to find Morrigan at my side. My brow crumpled. Sincerity was never her strongest point, yet worry clouded over her face as I had never seen.

"Yes..?" I offered, though unintentionally snappish. I couldn't afford to be patient with this banshee woman screeching in my mind. I sighed when Morrigan gave me a peculiar frown and tilted her head. She lowered her voice so the others, though far enough behind that it didn't matter, would not overhear.

"Though tisn't my place, your mindset is beginning to worry me…," she offered in a careful choice of words. I glanced at her, still picking my way down the hallway, using my staff as support.

"I'm fine," I ground out, trying to push her shrieking laughter to the back of my mind. I shut my eyes for a brief moment, feeling the headache already forming. Maker, it was worse than the last time I was in the tower. I felt a hand briefly touch my chest, stopping me. I shot a viperous look at her, then withered when she again looked entirely surprised. Something was wrong; Morrigan wasn't one to be surprised by my actions. Something had changed-

"I fear I might have endangered you all by coming here," I admitted after a pause, shutting my eyes with regret. I had sworn to myself I would not mention this to anyone else. The last time I did, it had me forcibly kicked from the tower.

Maker, Cullen..

I saw Morrigan throw a wary glance over her shoulder at Wynne and Alistair, who now lingered far behind thanks to Wynne's sense of respected privacy. Thank the Maker for that woman's common sense. Alistair didn't look as happy to be so far behind, though didn't seem to have the willpower or desire to try and pass Wynne, who blockaded him with chiding looks that sent him hovering back to the fringes of the line, shoulders hunkered down like a beaten dog.

"I thought as much…" Morrigan sighed after she felt reassured the others were not listening. I saw her touch a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose, then lower when she turned back to me. "Last night you spoke of Greagoir evicting you from the tower-" she paused, chewing over her words, then furrowed a brow. "Isthalla, exactly how did that happen? As far as I know, it isn't an every day thing that a Templar willingly releases a mage, and a dangerous one at that." I felt a knot burrowing in my throat, recalling the scenes with unwilling pangs of feeling.

"The eve after my Harrowing I told Cullen of the nightmares I'd been experiencing," I explained.

"Yes, you told me that," she nodded, sounding a bit impatient as we rounded another corner of the abandoned floor. I tried to focus, but felt my eyes wandering about the empty hallway circling the second floor. We had not seen hair or head or a single living creature on this floor. It was beginning to put my nerves on edge; the complete lack of sound or life began to trigger a warning signal in my mind that something was terribly wrong.

"I did not mention that I began to hear voices after my initiation, did I?" I offered as plaintively as I could. I had hoped it would come off less crazy if I put less emphasis on it. Morrigan stopped in her tracks a the archway leading into the main corridor. I ticked my jaw when I found her startled eyes locked on my own.

"No, you failed to mention that," she scoffed, a bit injured that I hadn't mentioned it sooner. "Exactly how long have you been hearing these voices?" she demanded. I glanced at Wynne, who had stopped some ten feet from where we stood. Her arm fanned out to stop Alistair as well, who first looked at her arm and then to the both of us, stricken with the familiar look of a lost puppy.

"Ever since," I admitted, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I had hoped it was simply an after-effect of the lyrium-"

"Isthalla, you fool," Morrigan hissed, abruptly grabbing me by the arm. I jolted at her touch, my hand instinctively gripping my staff. She dragged me in close so the others wouldn't hear.

"If there is one thing I learned from Mother-," she snapped, pausing to lower her voice and grip my arm tighter. "When one hears voices, mage or no - then you have a very good reason to worry!"

"There are only two reasons one should hear voices," she hissed. "One, you have been possessed. Or two, you've gone mad!" I felt my skin instantly bristle as I slapped her off and yanked my arm away.

"Well then I must have gone mad," I snarled back, feeling my defenses rising again. She wasn't too happy about what Morrigan was saying, either.

Me, possessing you? How weak!

I am far greater than such a lowly, desperate act…

"Isthalla, please-," Morrigan pleaded, again grabbing for my shoulder. I jerked it away, storming my path through the archway, my mind on edge. She was cursing again, drowning out all other sound. I couldn't hear what Morrigan was saying, only that it was becoming more frantic as she tried following after me.

You are so very tired, aren't you?

A new voice had entered my mind, adding to the unwanted conversation flooding my subconscious. This one was new, this one made a cold chill tear up my spine as I fell to a dead halt in the open room, and fell my eyes upon the culprit.

An abomination.

I tried to take a step back, but it was too late. My body felt like iron, nailed to the stone floor. She was hissing and screeching in the back of my mind, telling me to run.

POISON! Get away! Get away!

A great, heavy weight began to press into my chest. The others were talking, trying to will themselves to move as well. My eyes fell to the floor, where I found the body of a mage twisted at his feet. My heart began to thrash in my chest.

You should rest a while…

"No, Isthalla, you must resist!" I could hear the voices, though I could not connect them to the others. I could feel my entire body shutting down, willing into an unwanted darkness. She was screaming at me now, cursing me for my weakness.

I tried to reach out my hand to grab him; something, anything to break from the spell. My hands were made of stone. My body felt numb, cold, and weightless. I could already see my vision blurring.

N-No, not like this… I can't…

She yelled at me to stop, yet the less I resisted, the less of her voice penetrated my conscious. It was a cold but peaceful place, quiet and uninterrupted. I didn't want it to leave. I wanted to envelop in the silence, that blissful silence that had been robbed of me from the moment I took my Harrowing. I was suddenly so very aware of my tired body, and how weary my muscles were; how exhausted my mind was.

You deserve more… you deserve a rest.

I couldn't help but find myself falling into its offering, slipping and falling into the darkness like an old friend. Here it was quiet. Here it was calm. No blood, no monsters, no screaming.

No pain…

Rest…

The world will go on without you…