While the Hawkes mourned Bethany this past year, Aveline had been mourning Wesley, quiet in her own ways, saying her private prayers that no one but the Maker heard, if he even existed. But there was a part of her that hoped he was listening and passing along Aveline's well wishes to Wesley.

Sometimes Aveline thought the Chant was nothing but pretty lies she needed when she was weak and soft, but surviving Ostagar was nothing short of a miracle. But were miracles the Hand of the Maker, or just the luck of a draw? That she somehow remained untainted while her husband's ashes went uncollected somewhere on the West Hill Highway. She was grateful that Lucky was kind enough to cremate Wesley along with his sister's body but Wesley's death was a burden that poisoned her mind. In her more bitter moments, she thought herself stupid, that nothing remained of the dead but memories.

But the Witch of the Wilds had spoken differently.

Aveline knew she had failed Wesley. That much was clear. She replayed that fight at least once a day, if she was being kind to herself, making corrections in her mind about what she could have done differently. Still, she knew in the thick of battle decisions need to be made and mistakes happen. Sometimes she imagines herself in Lucky's place, selling her soul for Wesley's life. Still, she knew her husband enough that he would not thank her. Nor would it even occur to her to ask. She didn't know what kind of man Lucky was and whether she should watch him carefully or admire him.

He proved to be a fierce friend in the first year of Kirkwall, but they were such different people. If it weren't the Blight, she knew well they would never have even been friends. But it was hard to move to a new country so suddenly. She was fully human but still being Fereldan was enough of a stain for the locals that made fitting in hard, though she had trouble with that even on good days.

The Hawkes for good or ill, took her in like family, fed her, clothed her, gave her space in their home until she found a space in the Barracks at the Guard. She felt indebted to them, and affection that she had not even known in her own family.

When she wasn't having dinner with the Hawkes, Aveline was eating their leftovers at work, using cheap microwave meals to supplement her diet when she felt like she was taking too much. Leandra would insist she was welcome to her cooking, though Gamlen would insist differently. Still, she tried her best not to annoy Gamlen so she tried only to come over when Lucky invited her, which was often.

Still, she was grateful she finally had no obligation to be Meeran's sword anymore, even if she did have a steadier paycheck. The problem was she was barely a guard. She stared absent-mindedly on her phone at her schedule in the Barrack's break room. She had only two shifts this week and she had three next week but two of them were only four hours. She sighed deeply.

What did I do to piss off the Captain this time?

"Excuse me, Serah."

She jumped to see Donnic, stiffening involuntarily, her tongue swelling in her mouth.

His smile was apologetic. "Sorry, can I get to the fridge?"

She stepped out of the way sheepishly, her fair freckled face turning as red as her hair. "Oh, sorry. I was…distracted." She tucked her phone in her back pocket.

"Well, the Captain's really busting our asses with overtime lately," Donnic's bushy eyebrows drooped tiredly as he opened the fridge to pull out a low-alcohol content beer, the only alcohol they were allowed to stock in the Barracks, and some leftovers he had in a tupperware.

"I wish," Aveline muttered as she gave Donnic space if only to keep her heart from racing out of her chest. She had no idea why the man incited such a response. He was definitely not the classic definition of handsome, a nose that looked too big for his face, tired eyes, mutton chops. Still, she couldn't meet his eyes as she spoke. "I have two patrols in the market that'll barely cover meals. I think I somehow stepped on his toes again."

Donnic walked over to the microwave and popped in his meal. "Perhaps contradicting him in front of everyone isn't going to win you points, just saying." The beer can opened with a hiss and he took a sip as he waited.

Aveline scowled. "Are his b-balls so soft that he can't take a suggestion?" She tripped on the word, her eyes unwittingly pulled downwards as she said it.

Still Donnic laughed, cheering with his can. "Well not everyone is made of iron."

It seemed to be a jest at her expense but Aveline was pleased to hear it nonetheless. For some reason, she felt her heart speeding up and she kicked herself from getting worked up over some friendly banter.

Still, Aveline was never good around her crushes, no matter how ill timed and unpursued most of them were. She was suddenly unsure of where to put her hands or where to look or how to even act. She hadn't felt these stirrings in her heart since her late husband Wesley, and she was blessed with the fact that Wesley decided to ask her out to dinner at the end of their joint mission instead of just saying goodbye.

It could have ended there. If it was left up to her, it would have. Still, she told herself a year was too soon. Besides Donnic and Brennan had been clearly flirting so she made a mental note to stay out of their way and let that progress.

Donnic smiled, and though Aveline wanted nothing more than to stare at it she couldn't meet his gaze. "Still, if you learn some tact I know the Captain would give you more action. I mean you have potential with all the cases you solved in your first year. Not bad for a rookie."

Aveline blinked, surprised he paid attention to her at all. Donnic was a little gruff, but he got along with just about everyone and not once brought up the fact she was Fereldan but looked Orlesian with a name to match. He just seemed to see her. Shyly, she stiffened, suddenly unsure of what to say to such a compliment. "Th-thank you," she tried to meet his gaze, trying to think of what to say back. "You're very dedicated yourself, guardsman."

They stared at each other in the quiet, her face flushed, and he fidgeting with his beercan, both trying to fumble for a topic but failing.

Donnic was about to say something when a familiar sing-song voice cried out her name. "Aveline!"

She turned with a smile, both annoyed and grateful for his intrusion. "Oh, Hawke, what are you doing here?"

Aveline stopped as Boof bounded up to her and nuzzled her legs for pets but she was distracted to see Hawke in stride with a dwarf she recognized as Bartrand Tethras' brother and business partner. She felt like she shouldn't be surprised to see that his mad plan to hire on the expedition was gaining some traction, but knowing Hawke it had hit some snag and he was here so she could inevitably help bail him out.

Hawke wrapped his arms around Aveline, his head level to her armored chest. "Why, I missed you, of course," he said in his usual overly friendly manner.

Donnic tensed up at the interaction as Aveline awkwardly returned the embrace with one hand. "Yeah, but you hate coming to the Barracks."

Hawke pulled away with a grin, Boof sniffing at his legs. "Aw, you know nothing will stop me."

She looked over at Donnic who was turned away politely to let them converse while Varric raised an interested eyebrow.

Carver grimaced in embarrassment in the background, looking at Donnic warily.

Aveline felt herself turning red at the stare she was getting from Varric.

"Are you going to introduce me to your girlfriend, Hawke?" the dwarf said with a teasing grin.

That's when Aveline's head imploded. She couldn't keep the shout from her voice, the red from blending the freckles on her cheeks and down her neck. "We are kii. NOT lovers!"

Hawke's lip pouted out at the forcefulness of Aveline's answer. "But we are close, right?"

Aveline looked over at Donnic to find him already staring at her. She didn't know how to name her relationship to Lucky, but close could be one category. Still, she glared. "Close enough that I know you're up to trouble. What's with the dwarf?"

"The dwarf has a name." Varric scoffed. He stepped forward bowing. "Varric Tethras, at your service."

Aveline glowered. "I know your name. I asked what you want with Hawke."

Hawke put a calming hand on Aveline's elbow. "Now, now. Aveline, be polite. He's a friend. Varric and I are working out a… business arrangement."

This time Donnic huffed. "You're not dragging Aveline into another one of your messes, Serah Hawke?"

Hawke seemed pleased that he was getting under the man's skin. The man had arrested Hawke enough times to become familiar with Lucky's mischief. "Don't worry, Guardsman. Just a perfectly legal hike up to Sundermount."

At this Aveline froze for a moment. So he was finally going through with the deal? When the Witch's timeline came and passed and Hawke failed to go, she was relieved and thought that was the end, but in her heart she knew he would one day change his mind.

The microwave dinged and Aveline took the opportunity to say, "Guardsman, can I have the room? I need to speak with Hawke privately."

Donnic squinted his eyes, his instincts telling him enough that Hawke's trip meant more than he was letting on, but he hunched as he walked over and grabbed his meal. "I'll just eat in my bunk, I guess."

Everyone was silent as they watched Donnic leave the room and shut the door.

That's when Aveline smacked the back of Lucky's head. "That's what changed your mind? Coin?"

Lucky rubbed the back of his head as Carver snickered, hiding it as he crouched down to pet Boof. "No," Lucky glared, looking offended at the implication. "Carver just had to celebrate his 19th birthday last week by himself. He should never have to do that again."

At that Carver froze, his fingers digging into Boof's fur as the hound suddenly nuzzled him, giving affectionate kisses on his cheek.

Aveline lowered the swatting hand that was ready to strike. She remembered when Wesley and her anniversary passed. She told no one but she went to the Hawkes for dinner as always, and relished that she didn't have to spend the evening alone.

She knew Carver was a twin, but not much else. Bethany seemed a good girl for the little time she knew her. Bethany was a wound that had scarred each Hawke in their own way and though they never talked about her, her absence was felt in every moment. She could not blame Hawke for wanting to heal that pain. "As long as you go into this deal with eyes open. You won't be able to go back."

Lucky slapped on a carefree smile raising an eyebrow. "Worried about me?"

This time she did smack him. He was sidestepping the question. "Of course. Don't make it weird."

Varric raised his eyebrows, a confused look on his face. "I hate to ask, but why do you have an appointment with the Witch of the Wilds?"

Lucky smirked, rubbing his jaw. "Come on, Varric, do you really want to spoil the surprise?"

—

Carver hated Kirkwall. He never wanted to come here. Never wanted to leave Fereldan. He hated the stink of the city, the rotting dead fish that clung to the air, the smog that made his lungs hurt. He hated how it always seemed like there were voices talking, and cars honking, and sirens blaring, and the layered cacophony gave him a headache most days. But he hated Hightown the most, with the way nobles in garb worth six months rent would stare down their noses at them in their L.E.D. parasols, and head-ache inducing neon lights that seemed to decorate every street corner and person.

What a bunch of idiots that just needed to show off their money. People here had no substance. He missed grass and the smell of sap in the trees and rich soil. He missed how much the weather in Fereldan changed from the lovely blossoming springs to balmy summers and frigid coated winters. He missed a time when Bethany and his Father were a part of his life.

Kirkwall had two seasons, sun and rain and both seemed to come in abundance.

Lucky fit right in, just as loud, always donning the same bright colors, making a string of questionable friends and melding into any scene, but then his brother never seemed to have any problems that actually affected him. Life was just something to conquer and he had gotten good at it.

As Carver lagged behind quietly, he tried to not feel disgusted as his brother continued to kiss up to Varric. Lucky was a playboy and he was sure that Varric was just another mark in the string of endless lovers he seemed to entertain. Why anyone would fall for the idiot was beyond him, but people did without fail.

"See a guard's with us," Lucky put a friendly hand on Varric's shoulder. "Now you know we won't kill you."

Varric chuckled, seeming to already be warming up to his brother like most people seemed to. "I don't know, Hawke. There are a lot of corrupt city guards willing to look away for the right reason."

Aveline bristled at that. "I am not corrupt!"

They exited the Barracks, now descending the steep stone stairs that raised the building.

"No offense intended, Serah. I'm sure you have your own noble reasons." Varric smirked, winking at Aveline which seemed to make her madder.

Lucky draped himself around Varric shamelessly, a stupid grin plastered on his face. "I am noble reasons."

Carver mirrored Aveline's scowl. This was such a headache. The dwarf and his brother seemed like two of a kind, assholes who think they are funny and love the sound of their own voices, but Carver remained silent. His brother was somehow managing to get more traction on this Deep Roads Expedition, and though he was grateful, the annoyance still frayed at his nerves. The two of them talked. A lot. But the dwarf already seemed at ease with Lucky, and he wouldn't be surprised to learn that by the end of the night they'd had gone to bed together.

Lucky and Varric walked ahead as Aveline silently fumed, looking like she was regretting her decision to come.

Carver saw his chance, and touched Aveline's forearm.

"Can I talk to you?"

Aveline looked over at Carver, slowing her stride to match his. She met his gaze and said, "No, I didn't get a chance to pass my recommendation."

Carver tried to not let his annoyance show but his nostrils still flared. "Why not?"

Aveline looked ahead and picked up her pace. "Your application has been processed. The Guard-Captain will decide if you're right for the job."

Carver gawked after her, before he shook off his shock. He stalked after her and forced her to stop. "Everyone knows the Guard only works on recommendation."

"It's not that easy," she met his gaze, sharp and she crossed her arms. "Besides I heard you got fired from McDickens after only working there three weeks. "

A pang of guilty anger flushed Carver's face. He looked away, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You don't know the whole story."

"I don't need to."

Carver snorted. That was typical Aveline.

"I know your pride is wounded working minimum wage but you have to grow up." Aveline's icy green gaze sharpened as she poked his chest. "Say I do recommend you and that temper of yours runs away again and you punch someone else? The Guard lands itself in a lawsuit and where does that leave me?"

Carver's heart galloped with his surging temper, and he tried his best to swallow the incoming protest. He didn't want to prove Aveline right by yelling, but anybody who called his Mother a whore for knife-ears was going to get punched, customer or not. Again, he was reminded about how much he hated Kirkwall, and his homesickness grew in his heart. "In Fereldan, if you're an asshole, you're expected to be able to take a punch."

"We are not in Fereldan anymore," Aveline scowled.

"Andraste's tits Donna is so fucking sexy!"

Carver and Aveline both looked down at the street to see Hawke hugging and rubbing a red sleek convertible with tinted windows and strange winged runes on the wheels. Hawke was practically drooling in appreciation while Boof sniffed the car in interest while a noble businessman in a pea-colored suit rubbernecked trying to look inconspicuous.

"Hands off! She's a lady!" Varric shooed away Hawke and his dog. "Weapons in the trunk."

Not wanting to talk to Aveline anymore, Carver hurried down the steps. "I still want shotgun."

Lucky and Boof climbed into the back, a vinyl seat-protector already covering the fine leather. Lucky placed a ratty blanket on his lap so Boof could climb into it while Hawke adoringly rubbed his belly.

Carver carefully placed his blade in the trunk besides an ornate dwarven box and Lucky's weapons. He avoided looking at Aveline as he climbed in the front, already adjusted to his height, though Carver's legs were still slightly cramped and he pushed his seat as far back as Lucky would allow.

Aveline slammed the trunk closed a little more forcefully than she needed to and climbed into the back, her long legs needing to be slightly folded to fit. Boof's paws kicked her sides as Lucky scratched his belly.

Varric adjusted the mirror, spotting the black handgun still strapped to Aveline's thigh. He turned around in his seat and looked at Aveline. "What did I say?"

"If we get attacked-" but Lucky interrupted Aveline with a light kick.

"Just give the man your gun."

Aveline turned to argue but Varric scanned his eye on the dashboard and lit it up in a red display. There was a holo-screen displaying a myriad of icons that seemed to bring up multiple features. As Varric tapped a winged icon the car shifted as it started condensing into a more aerodynamic shape. "I get you're the twitchy type, but Donna has runetech strong enough to protect against bullets, missiles," and he tapped one more button and turned the inside completely dark blue as the display turned red, a series of dangerous looking weapons featured on the screen. "Not to mention an armory arrangement that makes your gun look like a peashooter."

The dwarf turned back, his hand outstretched.

Aveline rolled her eyes, muttering, but she unstrapped her handgun and handed it to Varric.

He put his hand on a panel to the side of his door which lit up against his touch, and then his car door slid open to reveal some guns already stashed in the drawer. Varric placed the gun inside and it slid shut.

Varric gripped the steering wheel and Donna seemed to shudder into life. "Now seatbelts everyone, Donna has kick." He emphasized this by strapping himself in with a click.

Aveline scowled. "You will obey speed limits is what you'll do."

Suddenly the vehicle lifted upwards into the air as Varric shifted the car into gear and everyone hurried to buckle in.

Aveline's eyes widened, and she clutched the car door, unsure if she should fling herself out or just hold on. The car rose slowly for about five seconds before they were all thrown to the edge of their seats as Varric sped off into the skyline.

"There are no speed limits when you fly," Varric laughed as Aveline screamed in terror.

"You know that's technically untrue," Aveline half-shouted, clinging against the side of the car.

Lucky had rolled down his window and now had his head out, whooping as wind roared through the car and whipping his curls. Carver had the sudden urge to do the same but he didn't want to seem like he was copying Lucky. His foul mood from Aveline's conversation still clung to him like a bad rash.

He wished he could be as free and light-hearted as his brother, but while Lucky seemed to savor sweet moments everywhere he went, Carver could only taste the bitter, and he slouched against the window as he watched the cars below quickly turn into ants. They dashed towards the skyline, rushing past the tall skyscrapers until they were as high as the clouds.

Boof's tail wagged wildly at the jostling car and he climbed further into Lucky's lap, squeezing his head out the window to howl excitedly into the sky, his cheeks and floppy ears flapping.

Aveline reached over and pulled Lucky back in, knocking Boof in too. "You're going to fall."

Lucky laughed. "Live a little, Aveline. We're flying. Breathe the air, take in the sights. Did you really expect your day to bring this?"

Aveline faltered for a second, and she stared out her own window to see herself level with a cloud so close she could probably touch it. The sun was just overhead now and in the distance Sundermount approached. "I'd much rather you take this seriously."

Lucky laughed again. "I have the rest of my life to be serious."

A half an hour later they were passing Sundermount forest, said to be haunted by spirits of fallen elves defending their homeland and the countless bodies of slaves. There were remnants of an abandoned logging operation, but if it was the demons of the forest or more mundane forces that drove them off, it wasn't known, but Hawke had heard at least a dozen different stories when he first planned to make this trip.

Hawke pointed to a clearing in the right of the forest where a valley dipped. "Let's park there. Approaching the clan with a flying mini-tank might make them nervous."

Varric nodded and turned the vehicle towards the valley and descended softly in a patch of grass. They all clambered out of the car, Carver practically slamming the door.

"Easy with Donna, Junior," Varric frowned as everyone gathered their weapons and stretched their legs.

Carver stiffened, giving Varric a sharp glare. "What did you call me?"

"I give nicknames. You'll get used to it."

"Well, think of something else, dwarf."

Hawke popped up behind Varric, an excited look on his face. "What's mine?"

Varric chuckled. "Haven't thought of one yet."

Boof ran around barking in an excited circle, sniffing the air, before he caught a scent that turned his joyous frolic into a crouching growl. He hunched, approaching the forest, and the others darted their eyes into the treetops to see metal glinting, a glow of eyes in the darkness.

Aveline raised her shield, her gun pointed at someone she spotted. "We're not alone."

Lucky put a hand on Aveline's lowering her gun. "Wait," he said. He approached the forest where Boof's hackles were still raised but when Lucky put a hand in front of his face, his growling ceased. Lucky, raised his empty hands and called out across the clearing. "Aneth ara. Ar garas in atish.*"

Carver hoped the message was peaceful like Lucky said it was and not some awful swear. His Father didn't know any elven and never bothered to try.

The wind rustled the trees softly and for a moment it seemed like nothing would happen but a small figure jumped down from the tree-top, where they were not looking, a bow leveled at their flank. It was a middle aged elf, wrinkles barely starting to form on his umber skin. He curled his lips into a sneer. "You are late, shemlen."

From the darkness of the canopy and the thick of the bushes, more elves in traditional ancient armor surrounded them, their weapons raised and wary. An elf with a ponytail barely long enough to bound turned to another. "It really is a shemlen. From what the Keeper described, I thought he'd be an elf."

The other elves protected the middle aged elf as he spat three times at Lucky's feet. He lowered his bow, a mocking smile on his face. "He's a half-blood. Should have figured it out from the lack of respect."

Carver's shoulders tense and he saw Lucky flinch, tightening his hands into fists.

The other elves looked at Lucky with the same disdain and Carver tightened his grip on his broadsword, unsure if it would come to blows.

"How did you piss off everyone before we even got here?" Varric whispered, noticing that every elf had a scowl or sneer.

The leader elf looked at Varric, surprised to see him there. "We are bound to Asha'ballanar and have been tasked with this shem's burden and cannot be released until his business with her is concluded."

Lucky looked back at Carver confused and Carver shrugged in response. "I made my deal with Flemeth."

The leader elf laughed. "Asha'bellanar is not a creature bound by names. But I see she has collected yours."

Something about the elf's words chilled Carver to his core. This was wrong. He was going to lose his brother. They should walk away right now, but he never was able to change his brother's mind once he had it set. But the thought of Bethany's broken body still haunted his nightmares. He could not deny that if he were in Lucky's shoes he'd offer the same. He knew he should not be mad that the Witch would have no interest in him, but the fact that he was so overlooked made him feel like this was his destiny.

The elves were speaking quickly in their language amongst themselves and Varric looked over at Lucky whispering, "What are they saying?"

"Dunno," Lucky shrugged. "I looked up that phrase on the internet."

Then the leader elf stepped forward motioning to his hunters. "Disarm, blindfold and bind them. We take them to the Keeper."

Boof started growling again, protectively guarding Lucky but he whistled to his dog. The hound stared up at him with worried brown eyes as Lucky stepped forward to relinquish his wrists to the approaching elves. "Relax, bud. We'll be fine."

Varric seemed unwilling to part with his crossbow but he reluctantly handed her off. He then stared wistfully at his car which they were about to abandon. "If any of my girls get hurt, Hawke, the deal is off."

Hawke grinned at the dwarf. "Don't worry, we caught them in a good mood."

—

Mythal, I'm not ready.

"You're as ready as you can be, Merrill," a familiar voice answered her thoughts.

She knew not to trust the voice, but she had to admit that it was one of her only sources of comfort left.

Merrill stared teary eyed across the lake at the edge of the Dalish camp, thinking how this would be one of the last times she'd be with her clan, and though she was scared to leave them, she could not bear to spend these last moments with them. All these whispers of how they're finally glad to be rid of her and how they can finally be cleansed of the taint circled her thoughts. She looked at her eluvian shard, carefully wrapped so she wouldn't get blighted and for a moment she wondered if all this was worth it.

"What of Tamlen? What of Mhanon?" The voice told her and she perked up remembering her friends that died finding the eluvian. "They both knew of its importance."

She remembered the day Tamlen disappeared. Mhanon almost didn't wake up, but when he did, they just grew sicker and sicker. Merrill tried to keep Mhanon in bed, but nothing could keep them from desperately searching for Tamlen. Merrill worked by Keeper Marethari's side gathering all of the Mythal'anaste blossoms from every edge of the woods, but still Mhanon withered into bones, their veins darkening until their eyes lost color. In their last moments they spoke of how Tamlen saw something in the mirror and that it saw him, but Mhanon could only see the blackened city. Even in the end Mhanon asked Merrill if their death served a purpose, if they had made the clan proud by uncovering that bit of history.

After the clan buried Mhanon's body beneath two saplings, one for Tamlen, Merrill followed Marethari back to the cave. Instead of honoring Mhanon and Tamlen's sacrifice, Keeper Marethari shattered the eluvian into pieces with an arcane bolt. She told Merrill to leave it in the ruins where it belonged, but before the camp packed up, instead of helping like Merrill should, she went back to the cave and gathered as many pieces and kept them buried whenever she was at camp. She told herself that Mhanon and Tamlen would have wanted her to.

"They might not trust your knowledge, though," Merrill laughed, because what else could she do? It was a manic trembling thing, threatening to be a sob. She knew spirits could be tricksters, giving her what she wished instead of what she needed, in some hope to fulfill their own wishes and Audacity certainly has tried. Still, she had no choice. No one else would help her. Would Tamlen and Mhanon call her cursed and crazy too? She didn't know. Her best friends were gone and home wasn't the same.

Why did no one understand that this shard was all that was left of them?

"Merrill?" she heard a familiar voice and she tucked the shard away before it could be seen, hoping her mad moment was not just witnessed.

It was the Second, soon to be First, a proud young elf descended from an old line of mages said to be strong dreamers. She was only 14 summers old but she looked much more the part as First than Merrill ever felt.

"K-kasa. I was just finishing preparations," Merrill sputtered. She was never good at hiding or lying so she made up an excuse in advance. It wasn't a lie. It would be difficult to contact Audacity within the walls of Kirkwall with him being bound like he was. She winced at the thought of having to return to Sundermount and walk the dark mountain by herself.

Kasa had a look of mixed pity in her yellow eyes, so bright against her dark brown skin. "The Hasamara has arrived. The Keeper wishes you to be here to greet him."

The one bound to Asha'bellanar. Her new tool.

Merrill tucked a long strand of black hair behind her pointed ear. "O-of course."

She followed Kasa quietly, the shard nestled safely in her satchel.

"I will be waiting," the voice whispered, fading now that she was leaving the lake.

Kasa led her quietly in the largest tent in the camp where the augury fire had been prepared. Keeper Marethari was already attending to it, a flame burning bright at the end of her staff, her grey bun neatly fastened with braids. She saw that most of the clan was here, save for the younger hunters and the children which were safely tucked in another location in case the Hasamara proved untrustworthy. Kasa and Merrill settled into their places beside the Keeper who was still busy attending the flames, casting magic over the Circle with her hands in a slow lazy dance.

"This does not have to be the last service you perform for your clan. You still have a place here."

Merrill flushed. Was it really the time for this old argument? "Have you changed your mind?"

The Keeper paused momentarily, the wrinkles around the corners of mouth deepening, making the golden curves of her vallaslin stretch. "You know I haven't."

Merrill kept her eyes forward, determination somehow rising beyond her doubt. "Then there's nothing to discuss."

They stood in silence, the clan giving her dirty looks and she wished she were back at the lake again, away from their withering stares and she fidgeted trying to calm herself.

Soon the scouts led in a group of strangers and a dog, all bound and blindfolded, led by Chandan, their most experienced hunter. He placed them in the middle of the tent.

"Free our guests," Keeper Marethari said without turning around.

Merrill stared in interest at the bizarre group not sure who looked more strange. There was a dwarf with no beard, which made her think that perhaps he might not be a dwarf at all but a really short human because she heard dwarves always had beards.

There was also a giant fierce looking woman with fiery red hair, and shiny armor who looked more like a wall than a person. Merrill didn't need to be told she was a warrior. Everything about her screamed it.

There was also a tall grumpy looking man who looked like he had stubbed his toe and he was grimacing from the pain. She noticed on closer inspection that his nose had an almost elf-like quality and his ears were too large and pointed to be human but too round to be mistaken for an elf at first glance. She had never seen a half-elf and she thought he looked a little strange but not so strange as his brother, whose curly hair was so bright it looked like it had flowers growing from it.

His purple jacket had spikes that looked like it would hurt if you touched them and his red shirt was tucked into his snug black jeans. He was busy calming a growling hound, with wavy golden hair and a piggish snout, standing protectively between his legs.

"Easy, bud, we're not in danger," he crooned.

Merrill found her face turning red, her eyes unable to look away from him. She didn't realize how hard she was even staring. Could a man be too pretty? He was bright and colorful like a peacock, but she had never seen one of those in person, but she had heard rumors that Orlesian noblewomen would keep the creatures as pets. He also had the oddest eyes, his left eye as dark as ink but his right eye as blue as the clear lake. She had heard that different eye colors could mean a strange destiny and so she was not all surprised that this man had ended up here of all places.

The hound licked his lips and whined, but allowed the elves to get closer to untie the bonds that were around his packleader's hands.

"Andaran Atishan, travelers" Keeper Marethari greeted the group, who were staring in awe at the fire that danced lazily at the tip of her staff. "Be welcome here."

The grumpy man rubbed his wrists. "Kind of a rough welcome."

The red-headed warrior woman elbowed him sharply, and they exchanged a glare.

Keeper Marethari smiled patiently. "Please, forgive our caution. I see now that your hearts do not wish violence but we had no way of knowing your character."

The teal-haired man and his dog bowed their heads in unison. Merrill could feel in an instance that he was the Hasamara, his aura twisted into the same dark energy she felt when she meditated at Asha'bellanar's altar. "Not offended. I'm sure you've had your trouble with humans."

Keeper Marethari gripped the staff even tighter, her kind smile a little more strained. "It's why we do not linger in one place for too long."

The man at least had the sense to look guilty for holding them hostage to his debt. Satisfied, the Keeper stepped forward, grabbing the man's chin. They were about the same height and he seemed to shirk under what Merrill knew would be a vice grip, though she did find him staring, too, at the duality of light and dark that was just as present in his aura as it was reflected in his eyes.

Marethari clicked her tongue, "I see it's been a long-hard road that has shaped you into the man you are now."

He flinched at this, looking embarrassed, and he quickly muttered, "not a man right now."

"But there is a light in your heart, child," Keeper Marethari released his chin to pat his chest. "Take care not to let it go out."

Marethari stepped back to give him space and he rubbed his chest looking a little spooked.

"Do you have the burden?" Marethari asked.

"The what?"

Marethari remained patient even as the elves watching muttered to each other. "What Asha'bellanar tasked you to guard with your life."

The man's eyes went wide and his smile sheepish. "Right, the creepy amulet. It's in…storage."

The Keeper's face finally showed the irritation that had been building as elves broke out in angry chatter. "You did not bring it with you?"

"Do you know how long we've been waiting to get this over with?" Irenia shouted from the crowd.

"Ar'an ady emathe siya isa shosaan*" Hahren Paivel shook his fist in the air, and some elves were already gathering rope to string the half-shem up by his feet.

Oh Sweet Sylaise. If they leave him up in a tree for days we'll never get this done.

The grumpy half-elf slapped his face with his hand, groaning, while the dwarf looked like he was on the verge of breaking out into laughter.

The warrior woman twitched her hands, looking ready to defend.

The Hasamara looked like he was shrinking under all the anger and Merrill, though she felt like she should be annoyed too, couldn't help but feel pity for him. She knew what it was like to have the whole clan's wrath turned towards her and she fidgeted under the tension, picking at a scab on her forearm.

Merrill couldn't hear what the warrior woman was muttering but the grumpy half-shem nudged the Hasamara as the hound curled around his master, growling in warning. "Lucky, get it out before we're hamstrung."

"I'll get it out! I'll get it out!" the Hasamara held up his hands sheepishly. "Just don't attack me…"

Merrill thought that meant that the party would leave and come back at a later time, which would be awfully inconvenient for everyone, but instead the Hasamara closed his odd eyes.

He held up a glowing finger, bright with a strange magic that tingled her skin. He drew a bright white line in the air and it stayed shimmering and rippling like water. The line split open, a wet pop spread into a white hole that warped the edges like a bowl, fishbubbling the Hasamara's face. The energy seemed heavier in the room as elves broke out in frightened gasps hiding the soft hum of magic buzzing from it.

"What the fuck?" the dwarf echoed Merrill's thoughts though that was not exactly how she'd word it. The energy felt strange, almost like a ripple into the fade but with none of the magic emanating from it. In fact she couldn't sense anything from the portal and it had this pulling feeling, like the world was falling in.

Merrill unconsciously stepped closer. Her body was trembling and her hands quivering in excitement. What kind of knowledge did this man have to produce magic like this? It would explain why Asha'bellanar would even take notice of him. She only helped those with the greatest skill.

"Is that a rift into the Fade?" Keeper Marethari asked. She had real fear in her eyes.

The Hasamara stuck his arm in the hole causing Merrill and many others to gasp. "No, that would be dangerous."

Merrill half expected for his arm to get chopped off or something to grab him or something to fall out, but instead the man began digging out different objects out the portal and sticking them back in. At first he pulled out smooth white rock that looked like it had been fished from the river. "Nope." He put it back and he pulled out a thick leather-bound grimoire. "No." Then a pair of earrings tangled together with seed-like pearls dripping down. "Not there, either."

Merrill's eyes were as wide as saucers watching the man's arm disappear into the portal again and again, the room whispering warily. "Does it hurt when you do that?"

He looked over at her, giving her an ecstatic grin that made her heart start to gallop. "It's a little tingly, and my hand goes numb if I take too long, but nothing bad has happened…yet."

"May I?" Merrill asked, a trembling hand reaching for the portal.

The Hasamara stepped back to give her room. "Just not where the edges are warped. Hurts like a son of a bitch and leaves your bones feeling like jelly. '' He grabbed her hand, her skin feeling an electric current that tingled all the way from her fingers to her heart.

Marethari cried out in protest but before she could fully voice it, Merrill's hand had disappeared into the heart of the portal.

The whole clan was left holding their breath as Merrill lost herself in wonder. Her hand felt like it had fallen asleep and was now filled with sand as she stretched her fingers. "Oh that's so strange," she whispered, breathy in excitement. The portal itself felt not hot or cold, but just numb, but though most of her mind was preoccupied with the thought of this wondrous magic she also couldn't help but feel breathless from the fact that the Hasamara was so close she could feel his breath tickling her neck.

He nestled in close behind her, guiding her arms with a soft touch. "Calm your heart. Imagine an object forming."

Merrill could not obey that command because all she could focus on was the electricity in her skin at his caress, the smoothness of his voice that made her shiver, the smell of his musk that made her dizzy.

"Imagine how it feels, the texture of it, the weight in your hand."

She was imagining something but perhaps not the thing he was describing. Suddenly, something soft and stretchy wrapped around her fingers.

"Something's got me!" she cried out causing the other elves to draw out their weapons in worry. She flung out her hand to see something was dangling between her fingers.

Merrill was now beet red as the whole room including the Hasamara fell into laughter, for what had 'caught' her was a neon pink thong.

The Hasamara grabbed it from her, wadding it up and shoving it into his pocket. "Thanks! I was looking everywhere for those."

Merrill's voice was caught in her throat. Of all the things to happen, she didn't expect that and sheepishly she retreated a few steps, wondering if fleeing was an option.

"Yours or a friend's?" the dwarf grinned.

"They're mine now," the Hasamara grinned back.

Merrill saw in the corner of her eye even Keeper Marethari was having difficulty recovering. Most humans were so nervous around them they never dared make jokes let alone flash their underwear, but she found herself relatively relaxed around him. Not many would be eager to share their magical secrets with an outsider.

What a bizarre person, she thought as he stuck his hand back in.

"Now why is it hiding from me?"

Merrill stepped up, shyly, with her hand tucked under her arm. "How do you usually pull something out?"

"With intention, like all magic," he frowned. "I picture it, remember the weight, the texture, but sometimes the memory…" His face darkened as he faltered. "Sometimes it takes a lot of focus when it's…"

"Tied to pain?" Keeper Marethari finished as he trailed off.

The tension in the Hasamara's shoulders was visible. "I just kind of threw it in there. I don't even remember what it looks like."

Keeper Marethari's mouth dropped at the admission, but Merrill stepped up, with a bright happy smile. "I can help." One finger went up as she shifted into a more comfortable stance. "Gold is most common for it's malleability and mana conducting qualities. Traditionally the cord is woven into a braid. The amulet itself will most likely be fastened with a ruby, for its ability to hold a lot of spirit essence, and the engraving on the back should have the mark of Asha'ballanar, a dragon with four horns."

His odd eyes twinkled suddenly. "Oh, I remember the dragon!" A few moments later, he pulled out the amulet. "There's the bitch!" It gleamed in the augury fire, the ruby like crystal blood. Suddenly the heavy energy was disappearing as the void collapsed into itself with a soft pop.

"Thanks, that could have taken a while," the Hasamara outstretched his hand to Merrill who stared at it. She had heard of the human's greetings about how they shook hands but she had never done the ritual before. "Lucky Hawke. You are?"

"Merrill," she blushed and took both her hands in his and shook them side to side not sure when she was supposed to let go. "I'll be taking you up the-" She stopped mid-sentence, realizing that she was being glared at from all directions. Suddenly she bowed to the Keeper. "Ir abelas. I didn't mean to break the ceremony. It's just-"

The Keeper drew herself to her full height, her sharp features pointed at Merrill. "Yes. The shem's magic is fascinating but you should be leading him in example, not encouraging this brazenness. Asha'ballanar is fickle with her kindness and not to be taken lightly."

Merrill dared not raise her head. "Ir abelas," she repeated her apology.

Hawke stepped forward. "Hey, I started it."

"Hawke-" Keeper Marethari's tone was harsh and impatient. "She must learn."

Merrill flinched, retreating back to her to Keeper Marethari's side. She saw the group now looking at her with pity which only made her feel worse.

Hawke dropped his shoulders, looking guilty and held out the amulet by the cord with the tips of his fingers as if he was handling a dead animal. "So you'll perform the ritual?"

The Keeper shook her head no, and took the amulet and motioned for him to bow. He hesitated, staring at the amulet warily, but bowed his head so the Keeper could drape it around his neck. "As my former First was saying, you will carry this burden up the mountain and perform your funeral."

He widened his eyes in alarm. "What?"

Aneth ara. Ar garas in atish*- Hello! I come in peace.

Hasamara- One who is bound

Ar'an ady emathe siya isa shosaan- We should string him up by his feet