Aveline had been awoken before the crack of dawn by the emergency alarm and her mind was still groggy with sleep. The sun was barely creeping over the horizon and it still hadn't touched the heights of the Chantry, leaving the shadows long and dark. The stained glass windows were dim, the colors sapped of life, more haunting than holy.

Every guard had been pulled in, even the reserves, for a joint investigation with the Templars. There were usually clear jurisdictions about which department got each work, and they were often territorial about their boundaries. Aveline was used to the Templars seeing the Guard as another arm of their force and she expected to have to deal with the headache of Templar grunts barking orders at her.

She fought a yawn as she stood on the steps of the Chantry with the rest of her squad-mates, waiting for Captain Jevlan and Knight-Commander Meredith to address everyone. Her whole squad was talking. The Chantry was hit the second night in a row and, with the Templars present on the scene, everyone was suspecting blood magic. There would be little other reason the Guard would need the Templars' help to investigate otherwise.

"What do you think happened?" Brennan asked Donnic.

Donnic's lips thinned into a line as he scratched his mutton chops. "Dunno, but I heard it was a bloody massacre."

Aveline was eager to finally be part of an official investigation, even if she was sure she'd be stuck with grunt work. Still, two massacres in the Chantry was an ominous pattern. Her instincts were telling her this was more than a coincidence.

Finally, Knight-Commander Meredith stepped in front of the Guardsmen, a stern look on her angular face and shadowed by Captain Jevlan. She was a severe impressive woman, with grey hair with only the faintest hint of blonde left. She was taller than the Captain by half a foot and every inch of her was made of muscle. Her blue eyes were cold as steel and her gaze was just as sharp. She was in a majestic suit of silver cyber armor, red lights lining the edges in an impressive display. Her hair was pulled in a tight bun, not a strand out of place. Strapped to her side was a very complicated-looking assault rifle that gleamed in the darkness.

She held up a mugshot of a blond scruffy thin man with hazel eyes glaring defiantly into the camera. "Last night a squadron of forty seasoned templars were murdered attempting to bring in a maleficar fugitive known as Anders." Her voice was harsh and sharp like a violin out of tune. "He is a suspected leader of the Mage Underground and a very powerful blood mage. This is what we know."

She held out her phone and clicked a button and a green light lit up the room. A hologram of a shrouded man walked through the corridor and past Meredith into the giant heavy red doors behind her. "At around 12:05 this figure, who is the same height and build as Anders, stepped into the Chantry where my templars were waiting to ambush and bring him to justice." The air around them distorted and then out of the corner of the corridor a strange purple energy flew into the camera above the door and shut off the hologram, plunging them back in the dark.

Aveline gasped. She recognized that spell.

"At around 12:25 a strange energy knocked out every camera watching the Chantry. That was also around the time my Templars stopped reporting in. We know a great Fade disturbance occurred in the area of the Chantry last night and we believe that may have rendered all technology useless. Preliminary processing of the area shows very advanced blood magic was used. Repeated death has torn areas of the Veil apart. We've already put down several shades so please proceed with caution." She nodded her head and then marched into the Chantry.

Captain Jevlan walked to the center of the stairs. He wasn't nearly as impressive as Meredith with his slouching posture and uncombed hair. "Alright, maggots, since this is a magical assault with Templar casualties, Templars will be running the show and we'll be facilitating in the background with interference. A curfew has been established. Everyone is to be off the streets by ten o'clock, no exceptions. We're going to need to double the stop and frisks to see if we can shake any connections to this scumbag. It's all hands in on the manhunt but, remember, this is a blood mage." The Captain jabbed out a finger. "Don't be a fucking idiot and try to take him on yourself. If you find a lead or connection to the fugitive, you are to report to me, and I will hand it over to trained professionals who will handle the capture."

He nodded, placing a hand on his chest. "Now, I want double patrols on the street. The Templars are also shorthanded and we need some volunteers to help speed up processing the scene so the Chantry can be cleaned up in time for Mass Service on Sunday."

That wouldn't give them much time to properly document the scene, but there would be no delaying Mass.

Aveline raised her hand and stepped out of line without even thinking. "I volunteer, Captain." It would be grunt work, certainly, but she had a sinking suspicion she might know who was behind all of this and she wouldn't get another chance to step directly onto the crime scene before it was scrubbed. She had to be sure of her theory before she could start knocking heads inside out.

Captain Jevlan glowered at her with his dark eyes, for some reason annoyed at her enthusiasm. "Anyone else? We need at least three more."

Donnic reluctantly held up his hand. "I guess if I'm needed I'll go."

Aveline bit down a smile at the thought of spending more time with Donnic.

"Really, Donnic? You want to be pushed around by Templars all day?" Brennan whispered incredulously.

"I'm curious about the crime scene. It seems too much of a coincidence for the two massacres to not be connected."

So Donnic was sensing it, too.

Captain Jevlan bristled. "Is that you volunteering, Brennan?"

Brennan stood up straight, her short hair bobbing. "Yes, ser."

"Good," the Captain nodded. "And since no one else is jumping up and down, Trevor, you'll join them. Everyone else, you're to start your patrols, even in Darktown. I want no alley unchecked. The sooner we get this criminal off the streets, the easier we can all sleep at night. Dismissed."

"Damn it," Brennan muttered under her breath.

Donnic chuckled. "Guess we'll be stuck together for a while."

Aveline couldn't help but feel her heart fall at the flirtatious tone in his voice. She tried not to let herself be bothered by it. It made sense. Brennan was more classically pretty, with a feminine face and sandy blond hair that the men seemed to go wild for.

The guards all started to scatter to their duties, and Aveline dutifully began her climb up the steps of the Chantry when she heard a voice behind her.

"Aveline," Donnic waved. "Wait up."

She didn't want to, but still, her legs slowed to a stop and she turned around, forcing a smile. "Guardsman," she said politely.

Trevor, a rather pudgy man with a handlebar mustache, seemed even more reluctant than Brennan to be assigned clean-up work and was dragging several feet behind. Brennan and Donnic were stepping in sync with each other, their bodies like magnets, and it was hard for Aveline to ignore the burn of jealousy in her heart.

"Ugh, I don't want to get cursed," Brennan shivered, hugging herself.

"Just don't touch anything with your bare hands. You'll be fine," Donnic said with a wry grin.

As soon as they caught up to Aveline, she slowly began to walk with them, feeling like the awkward third wheel that was making the wagon wobble.

"Do you think they'll let us help in the investigation?" Aveline asked.

"I doubt it," Donnic snorted. "But when else are we going to get a chance to get this close to a case like this? You don't see scenes like this every day."

Unfortunately for Aveline, she couldn't say the same.

The heavy Chantry doors were wide open. Templars in full riot gear and a clean-up crew in bright orange hazmat suits were coming in and out in a steady stream, carrying delicate-looking but unwieldy machines with all sorts of buttons and knobs and clear plastic containers of what looked like blood, organs, and even some bone. As they approached the scene, one of the men in the hazmat suits handed the group their own gear to slip over their armor. "You're going to want these. There's a lot of liquid evidence that will be contaminated soon if we don't collect it and bring it back to the lab." His face was obscured by the glare of his mask, his voice slightly distorted from the respirator.

Aveline nodded, her nose wrinkling at the acrid smell of rotting bodies mixed with a pungent sulfuric odor wafting from within the Chantry. She could hear the flashing of cameras as the photographers captured the grisly scene.

She stepped into the suit, zipping it over her armor. She could feel herself cooking already despite the cool early morning. The head mask ventilated the air better, but was very unwieldy to move in.

"Ugh," Donnic grimaced as he grabbed a plastic container and looked at the piles of viscera everywhere. "This is going to be messy."

"Yeah, well, you wanted to see the action." Brennan shook her head as she put on her headgear.

Aveline wasn't exactly eager to step inside the Chantry proper, but she needed to witness what happened. It only took one glance to confirm her suspicions. There were vines everywhere, entangling and restraining Templars, much like the ones Merrill made. Some of the guards were shot with bullets, but others had been shot by strange red glowing bolts, just like the ones Bianca used. One of the Templar's throats had been torn out by dog teeth, a marker Boof had been present. But the most damning of all were the piles of red goo. There was nothing discernible in the viscera except for bits of bone in the piles of armor. She had seen advanced blood magic like this only one time: when Lucky saved her life from a horde of Darkspawn.

She was going to murder him.

"Ah, you must be the processing team," a voice said behind them. He was a blond man, with rather short wavy hair slicked back and a five o'clock shadow. "I'm Knight-Captain Cullen and I'll be overseeing the crime scene."

"Ser," Aveline saluted automatically and the others found themselves following suit.

"At ease," he nodded and then waved his armored hand around. "As you can see we have plenty of DNA and physical evidence so there's bound to be something useful. The intact bodies are still being inspected, but we need help packaging the more damaged remains to be examined at the lab." He handed each of them something that looked like a small shovel and air-tight bags to seal them in. "Make sure you take time to label the remains. Keep them as separate as possible."

"We know how to handle evidence, Knight-Captain," Donnic crossed his arms.

"Right," the Knight-Captain pursed his lips. "Well, I'll let you get to it."

Aveline turned to the others. "Do you mind if I step out for five minutes? I just remembered I need to make a call."

She could hear Brennan grumbling but Donnic nodded, his face hazy through his mask. "Sure, whatever you need, Aveline."

Aveline nodded gratefully, handing off her tools to Donnic before heading off deeper into the Chantry. There were people everywhere and she needed a bit of privacy for what she needed to say. She wandered around until she found a broom closet, stepped inside, and closed the door behind her. She tore off her mask and unzipped her suit just enough so she could pull out her phone and dialed Lucky's number. Immediately she heard his voice mail signaling his phone was off. "Figures," she muttered, punching in Carver's number. It rang for a long time, so long that Aveline almost hung up to try again, before Carver's sleepy voice picked up.

"Why the fuck are you calling so early?" Carver was yelling in a harsh whisper. "Mom is dead asleep!"

"Why didn't you stop your brother last night? Killing templars! I can't save him from this!" She was also whispering, for fear of being overheard.

"What?" the confusion sounded genuine.

"There's evidence everywhere. Don't you lie to me now, Carver!"

"I wasn't with Lucky last night. He's been fucking off on his own since yesterday."

"Oh, so that was his work yesterday night, too?"

"What!?" Carver's voice strangled to not be a shout.

"I don't know why your brother was with a wanted terrorist of the Mage Underground, but he's pushing his luck on how much I can help him." Aveline pinched the bridge of her nose with her gloved fingers. "So help me, Carver, I will murder Lucky for this."

She heard Carver snort. "No, you won't, because I will."

And he hung up on her.

Aveline's head fell on the closet door, and she stared into the darkness of the broom closet. She was done protecting Lucky, she decided. He was a full-grown man who broke the law. He knew the consequences. She would not drag herself down with him. But even as she thought that, she knew she couldn't go through with it. A year of family dinners and long night talks and vicious fights and hearty laughs made her realize that she couldn't abandon Lucky.

She clenched her fist and slammed the wall. "Damn it!" she shouted.

That was a mistake because, not even a few moments later, someone knocked on the door. "Are you alright, serah?"

It was Cullen's voice.

"I'm done. I'll be out in just a moment."

"Don't worry. Take your time."

She took in a steadying breath trying to calm her racing heart. There was only one way forward. She had to find this fugitive and bring him in before Lucky got caught. She just prayed offering up Anders would be enough to satisfy the Knight-Commander.

—-

Lucky lit up the elfroot joint between his lips with his finger and inhaled deeply. The smoke filled Bethany's lungs, a feeling of relief easing her shock. Lucky held the smoke as long as he could and Bethany felt the pain in her side start to dull to a low burn. It was still uncomfortable, but she could feel her muscles start to relax as the elfroot worked through Lucky's system. While Lucky often indulged in elfroot, Bethany had only taken it when necessary. Though she felt so raw inside and out, that perhaps now was one of those times, so she didn't think to complain to Lucky.

Anders' clinic was mostly empty, only a few miners lying in bed recovering from chokedamp. Varric had long taken Isabela and Merrill home so they could all rest up from the long night, and so it was just Lucky, Bethany, and Anders, who was prepping Hawke's surgery in the back of the clinic.

Ser Pounce-A-Lot was busy glaring at Lucky as he nibbled on a mouse he had caught. The long scar over his feline eye made him look sinister. The cat had taken a few swipes at Lucky already, and Lucky was trying his best not to provoke another unannounced attack. Ser Pounce-A-Lot kept glancing at the door, warily guarding it from Boof, who was waiting dutifully for Hawke just on the other side. Every once in a while Lucky could hear a low whimper from Boof, followed by Ser Pounce's rumbling growl.

Bethany was still in a state of shock and had not spoken to Lucky since the incident, and Lucky was too ashamed to try, knowing his words meant nothing. He already said he was sorry, but the damage was already done, the wounds already inflicted. He knew in his heart she was not safe with him, that the longer she stayed with him, the sooner he'd repeat his actions. And while he swore it would never happen again, he knew himself.

When he pulled out the knife on himself, he did it on instinct, in desperation. He knew he was willing to be a monster if it meant that they survived. And he was willing to accept Bethany's hate if it meant she wasn't destroyed or locked up. But it didn't make the pain of betraying his sister any easier. He knew better than to ask for forgiveness.

Lucky could feel Bethany start to stir inside him as the elfroot numbed them both. He knew his sister would rather not get high, so he began to tamp out the joint when Bethany stopped his hand with a gentle tug. "Wait. Can I have another hit?"

He was surprised at her. "When did you start smoking?"

She bristled with annoyance. "It's been a day, alright."

That it had been. Lucky still had so much adrenaline in his system that he still hadn't slept and his mind was starting to burn with exhaustion. "Don't worry, I have plenty," Lucky put the joint back to his lips and breathed in another long drag.

It was silent except for the miner's heavy labored breathing. Lucky was uncertain what to say. He was sorry, but he knew he couldn't regret what he did when they were still free. While Bethany was still safe. Well, as safe as she could be.

Hawke laid back on the crate, the hardwood digging into his back. The ceiling on Ander's clinic was moldy and so moist it dripped. A wet splotch hit Hawke's forehead and he groaned, smearing it off. The walk back to Anders's clinic had taken everything out of Hawke and left him with no energy to wash himself, so he was still filthy with blood. He was running on empty. If the Templars found him now would he even have the energy to fight back?

Finally, after an eternity of silence, Bethany said, "I hate you."

Hawke flinched but nodded. "I'd hate me, too." His hand dragged along his stomach feeling the bump of the bullet still lodged inside.

Suddenly tears welled up in his eyes. "You promised…"

He gritted his teeth, wiping the tears away as he swallowed down more. "I shouldn't have."

That made her anger snap like a whip inside him. "I don't understand."

Hawke could feel Bethany's rage start to overwhelm him, and he couldn't help but cower from it.

"You're just like, Dad, Lucky, so much raw talent and you just… waste it! Dad never needed blood magic! Why do you!?"

"Because I'm a fuckup that's why." Hawke tried to bite back his anger but the comparison rubbed him raw. "I'm a lot less like Dad than you think. Let's face it. I'm the half-baked version of him."

Bethany stilled at that. "You don't mean that."

Lucky bit his tongue, having said much more than he usually did, but it was hard to hide emotions within one's own head, and right now he had no strength to hide from her. "I'm sorry I hurt you again," he found himself repeating. "I just…didn't know how else to save us."

Bethany was conflicted. On one hand, there was no doubt they would have died. But on the other hand, the pain he put her through was so intense, the reasons behind it mattered little to her. She was still angry but she didn't feel like she had the right to be. She could feel it. Lucky was in bad shape, and though the bitterness tinged her heart, she wondered what she would have done differently. "Is this the part where I say I forgive you and we never speak of this again?"

"Not if you don't mean it," Hawke took in another calming drag, feeling her stress.

They both breathed out slowly, feeling tense and uneasy. "Well, good, cause I'm going to need a little more time before I feel better."

Hawke nodded. "Take all the time you need."

Suddenly he noticed that Anders was beside him, the bloodstained apron freshly laundered, but you could still see the dark splotches. His lips were in a thin line. "Oh, don't mind me. Keep talking to your demon." His voice was edged with tension as he arranged his tools in a line on the table in front of him, looking menacing and sharp.

Hawke's anger spiked. "She's not a demon," but he stopped himself from saying more, not sure if he could trust Anders with the truth. He stamped out the joint on the side of the crate and tucked it into his front jacket pocket. "Besides, aren't you playing host to something? Feels like you shouldn't really be judging. You're just as much of a blood mage as I am."

Anders' eyes flashed blue and his face cracked with light. "I am not a blood mage."

Hawke scoffed. "Could have fooled me."

The light left Anders face leaving him with a scowl. Without asking, Anders pulled up Hawke's shirt, and pushed him to his back with a thud, exposing the wound. Hawke could feel Bethany flush at the feeling of Anders' fingers on his skin, an unwelcome stirring came that caused them both to cringe in awkwardness.

"Hey," Hawke jerked upright. "What are you doing?"

Anders held him down firmly with one hand, surprising strength in his gangly fingers. "I told you I need to cut the bullet out, so lie down."

Hawke gritted his teeth, settling back down under the crate, feeling vulnerable and exposed. With one hand, Anders rubbed Hawke's bruises in soothing circles until the skin was numb and he couldn't feel any pressure. Then Anders lit the blade of the scalpel with a flaming finger until it was red hot.

Hawke swallowed nervously as Anders lowered the blade to his stomach. "You might feel pressure. Just keep breathing," Anders commanded.

Anders then sliced into the bullet wound. It started to bleed but strangely there was only pressure and the dull ache, not the sharp pain Hawke expected, which he was grateful for. Bethany had suffered enough.

As Anders cut, Bethany could see the red rims of his eyes, and if she didn't know better there was a slickness to his throat like he'd just broken down. Her heart ached for him. Here, he had just taken the life of someone he cherished and he was back to work in his clinic like nothing happened. "I'm sorry…" she said, accidentally borrowing Lucky's voice.

Anders paused the incision, looking at Hawke with hard eyes. "About what?"

Bethany couldn't say more, the grief of playing a demon stealing what comfort she might have said. So Lucky finished for her, "Karl…" he said softly, his own thoughts on the subject quiet. "You did right by him."

Anders looked away, clearing his throat, his hands suddenly shaky. He gritted his teeth. "I don't want to talk about it," he muttered, and then jabbed the scalpel in deeper.

Hawke gasped, but there was still no pain, just a sensation of flesh pulling apart as his side gaped open. As soon as the incision was deep enough, Anders set the scalpel aside and picked up a pair of tweezers and then proceeded to sanitize them with flaming fingers. "It's not what you think," Anders said.

"Huh?" Hawke lifted his eyes to meet Anders' gaze, feeling Bethany's heart speed up as soon as their eyes met.

Anders dropped his eyes to his work, hot tweezers digging into the wound and Hawke felt a pinch. "Yes, I'm playing host to something, but it's not a demon." Anders pulled out a fragment of a bullet and dropped it in a tin cup, the sound clattering as it fell. "I met Justice when I was still a Grey Warden serving under the Hero of Ferelden." Anders dug the tweezers in again and another pinch. "He was a spirit trapped outside of the Fade, and I thought to give him a host. I thought my friend would be better not haunting some corpse." He pulled out another fragment, a bigger one this time, and Hawke felt some of the pressure in his side relieve in a warm sensation.

All of a sudden Hawke was feeling less dizzy. "Didn't seem too friendly."

"Should Justice be friendly?" Anders dropped the bullet fragment and stuck the tweezers in again rather forcefully. Hawke hissed this time feeling pain. "Justice is hard. Justice is righteous…" Hawke could feel the tweezers writhing deep inside him and the sensation was rather nauseating. Anders' lips thinned into a hard line. "…But you're right that when we merged, something in him changed. I…broke him."

Bethany's heart swelled in pity. It seemed like he'd only tried to do a good thing and it blew up in his face. Was there no joy in this man's life?

Lucky gritted his teeth. "It's not what you think either."

Anders raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Lucky bit his lip, as he reached inwards and felt Bethany. "Do you trust him?"

Bethany watched Anders as the corner of his tongue tucked to his lip as he concentrated on digging out the last piece. It seemed to be stubbornly deep and the pressure was getting overwhelming, but Anders' hands remained gentle and kept it from hurting.

Bethany wasn't sure why, but she did trust Anders. What he was doing with his clinic alone was a selfless act. And the way he took care of Karl- how he put his needs first even though she knew it must have killed him to do so, made her feel like she could tell him anything. "I want him to know."

She could feel Lucky's surprise. She could tell what Anders confessed had made him uneasy. But Anders had been honest with them, and Lucky relented to her that they owed a little honesty back.

"What you heard me talking to was not a demon."

"So you said."

Lucky felt another pinch as Anders grabbed onto something deep and jagged inside him.

He could feel his insides squirm together as Anders began to gently tug, and this time Lucky did feel pain, a guttural ache that left him breathless. He clenched his fists as Anders slowly pulled the slug out of him, spilling his confession so he didn't have to think about what was happening. "The witch of the wilds was supposed to save my sister's life but she tricked me and now Bethany is cursed in an amulet."

Anders raised his eyebrows in surprise, eying the amulet around Lucky's neck. "Huh. And you're sure the witch didn't substitute another creature in your sister's place."

Finally, the slug pulled free from Lucky's skin and Lucky fell backward into the crate sighing blissfully, the pain already starting to dull to an ache again.

Hawke wiped the sweat from his forehead. "I think I know my own sister."

Anders dropped the last bullet fragment in the tin and began wiping his bloody hands on his apron. "Care to test that?"

Hawke raised his head, glaring. "What?"

Anders' hands started to glow as his eyes flooded with light. With a wave of his hand, Hawke's wound closed over again. This time Anders massaged the wound until all the pain was gone and there was nothing left but a raised scar. "I am Justice," Anders' voice was now warped as one of his glowing hands hovered over the amulet. "I sense a powerful being inside you, and yet I cannot tell if it is a spirit or demon."

Hawke shifted uncomfortably. "She's neither," he spat back.

"And, if Anders and I are allowed a conversation, I may confirm that. Would that not give you more peace?"

Hawke clenched his fists, hesitating. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

But Bethany said, "Let him. I…want to know for myself."

"But-"

"Lucky," Bethany snapped. "I need to."

Lucky bit his lip, and then picked the amulet off his neck.

The void was back, the impenetrable darkness of quiet and solitude. Bethany opened her eyes but it was just as dark as it was closed. She wanted to scream but she braced herself, counting backward from a hundred like she was taught to pass the time. She kept losing her place and starting over, so she had no sense about how much time had passed until a light appeared on the horizon, and the clinic hazily focused into view. She could smell the damp mildew, the iron of blood on her hands, the burn of shed tears behind her eyes. There were two powerful presences in her mind, scanning her with a wary caution.

"What is your purpose?" Bethany could tell the question belonged to Justice even if it was spoken with Anders' voice. She could tell because the presence was much more calm but alien. She had never been so close to a Fade spirit. There was so much raw energy swirling in Anders like he had a mini sun inside him burning brightly. The energy unmistakably had life and intelligence and it surrounded her until she could almost see a presence forming behind her mind's eye, a tall lanky figure sharing Anders' shape.

"My purpose?" Bethany repeated. She could feel the presence scan her intent, reading her every emotion like a book. "I don't think I have one."

"No," Justice's voice confirmed. "I see that you do not. I cannot tell what you are."

"That's because I am…was human...sort of."

She felt a sensation of fingers running down her spine and lighting up her veins like something was sifting through her like fingers through silk. In that touch she could feel her memories being poured over with a curiosity that burned in a child-like quality. She felt like she could see back into her first breath of life when she met her mother's eyes, tearing up with love. "Your essence is layered with something more ancient."

Bethany shifted nervously, feeling very exposed. "I guess that's the elf in me…"

"Perhaps," Justice's voice seemed unsure. And then suddenly the sensation was gone, and the probing feeling with it, and she suddenly had much more sense of privacy. "In any case, if you are a demon, I do not recognize your breed. And with the direct connection between us, I can see you believe you speak the truth."

Bethany couldn't say how relieved she was to hear that. "Does that mean…I'm real?"

"Spirits rarely have so many conflicting layered emotions," something changed and she could tell this was Anders speaking instead. There was a shift in the tone, a mania in the presence laced with unspoken grief. There was pain in every breath that he spoke that Bethany wondered how he managed to keep a straight face. "Colette- I mean the Hero of Ferelden said she once met a mage in an amulet in the Brecilian ruins. It's theoretically possible to bind living essence into objects like stones but the process has changed you. You're…pure magic now. Essentially, you've become very much like a spirit tied to no purpose."

"Does that mean I could become a demon?" The question solidified Bethany's inside.

"Now that I don't know."

Bethany couldn't tell which of them was speaking now.

Lucky leaned in eagerly, his hand holding his healed side. "If we can find information about how souls are bound, then I could use this information to free Bethany?"

Anders touched the point of his chin. "It's possible, though I wouldn't even know where to start."

"What happened to the mage in the amulet the Hero found?" Lucky asked.

Anders' lips thinned. "They were barely anything intelligent left when Colette found them. Couldn't even remember their own gender or name. They said they could pass on their magic, but in exchange, they asked for the amulet to be destroyed. Colette… gave them peace."

Bethany could see how uneasy those words made Lucky, and he stared at his hands wordlessly.

What Anders said scared her. How long did they face that empty void with nothing real but themself? She didn't want that future. She didn't want her present.

Suddenly Boof started barking from just outside of the door of the clinic, causing Ser Pounce-A-Lot to fluff up and start growling. Only a few moments later, Carver punched open the door with a storm cloud dragging behind him.

Boof made it halfway into the room before Ser Pounce-A-Lot charged at him. Boof yelped and dashed back out the door. Anders scowled as the cat guarded the entrance yowling. "What in Andraste's knickerweasels is it now?"

Lucky was on his feet with a sheepish look on his face. "Broooo… how'd you find me?"

Carver picked up his phone that was already in his hand. "Had Aveline help me install a tracker on your phone last time you went missing." Then he took one look at Anders and froze, his face flooding with fury. "So she was right? You're helping a wanted terrorist!"

Anders crossed his arms, and Bethany could feel his bristling annoyance, the spark of a spell at his fingertips readied in case Carver attacked. "I am not a terrorist."

Bethany's heart froze. If it came to blood could she stop Anders from killing her brother?

Lucky chuckled, a nervous edge to it. "Look, you had to be there-"

"I should have been there!" Carver shouted, marching up to him.

Lucky backed away but Carver was quickly catching up. "And if you recalled I did ask-"

"You didn't tell me you were going to do this!"

"Well, to be fair, I didn't know any of this was gonna ha-"

Carver grabbed Hawke by the collar and yanked him up until he was at eye level. Hawke dangled like a doll, as Carver took his fist and swung, but Carver stopped just shy of touching his face. Carver growled, his eyes darting to Hawke's neck. "Where's Bethany?"

Lucky pointed with his lips in Anders' direction.

Anders clutched his forehead, and Bethany could feel pain pounding in her temples from the noise. "Can you keep it down? I do have other patients to consider."

Carver's eyes darted towards the amulet on Anders' neck gleaming in the candlelight. Then he clocked Lucky in the jaw, splitting his lip open.

Bethany cried out as Lucky's head fell back with a snap, blood spitting from his lips.

"Why the fuck is she on the terrorist!?"

Anders narrowed his eyes in a glare. "Call me a terrorist one more time, boy."

Carver snarled, raising his bruised fist. "Oh, you try it. I can handle the likes of you."

Bethany froze, unsure what to do.

Lucky got in between Carver and Anders, shoving his brother back. "Quit it, dude. Anders is cool and Bethany asked to speak with him. Listen to the whole story before you blow a gasket." He then groaned, spitting a wad of blood on the ground. He wiped his mouth, healing it over with a swipe of light.

Carver raised his fist again. "So you can give me excuses? You killed a squadron of Templars. There are curfews, a manhunt! I bet your blood is fucking everywhere because you're a bloody fucking moron!"

"We were ambushed!" Hawke thrust his arm out in annoyance and then grunted as he held his side, apparently still bothering him. "I had like two seconds to make a decision. I know this is not ideal, dude, but things could be worse."

"Things could be worse," Carver's voice sounded slicked over, and then suddenly the tears pricked his eyes, and he quickly wiped them away. "Let me get this straight. Mom kicked you out, Beth's stuck in an amulet, your DNA is all over an active crime scene, the Templars are actively hunting you and your new 'friend', and yet things could be worse? Am I forgetting something in this very fucked up situation?"

"Yes. I don't make friends with blood mages," Anders stepped forward, his arms crossed. "Now, I feel for your sister and your situation, but Justice and I have enough problems running from the law without you adding to them. I think it would be best if we go our separate ways."

Bethany couldn't hide her disappointment from Anders. She wasn't sure what she was expecting to do when he found out. She knew he owed her nothing, and yet, she wished things between them were different.

Lucky flinched, but he soon slapped on a smile. "Damn, man, you don't sugarcoat shit."

Anders sighed heavily and Bethany could feel how much he was running on empty. It seemed Anders was sustaining himself on willpower and the spirit inside him. "The Templars have been hunting me for years. I don't have time to be nice anymore. We both should just focus on taking care of our own problems."

Anders closed his eyes, feeling Bethany, and gave a feeling of apology. "I hope your brother can help you."

The void came back as Anders lifted Bethany off of his neck. She counted steadily from a hundred, pretending that the darkness was just her closed eyes. She hardly hit eighty before she felt another heartbeat beating alongside her. Her arms felt strong, her chest wide, her neck broad. She opened her eyes and she looked down at Lucky who looked so small he could have been a dwarf next to Carver.

Anders picked up a yowling Ser Pounce-A-Lot and tucked him under his chin. The cat grew limp, purring heavily as he butted Anders head with his. "Now please vacate my clinic."

Lucky raised an eyebrow. "You still owe me those Deep Roads maps."

Anders sniffed sharply and disappeared to the back of the clinic, Ser Pounce-A-Lot cradled happily in his arms.

"I'm glad it's you," Bethany could cry in relief. She missed Carver so much it hurt.

"Did Lucky hurt you?"

She flinched, not wanting to be honest for fear of her brother's reaction, but he could see her scars, the flashes of the nights before still playing unwittingly like an unwelcome stream as the phantom of the pain still ached in her side. Carver was able to piece together enough that his fists were clenching again.

"Don't hurt him," she begged. "Not while I can feel it."

Carver gritted his teeth. "Fine," he spat.

Anders came back into the room throwing the Deep Roads map at Lucky's feet. "There. Now we're even again."

Lucky picked up the maps, dusting them off, and then reached out to touch Carver's arm.

Carver slapped it away.

Lucky looked down at the maps, "C'mon, I know a place we can hide for a while."

Bethany found herself glancing back at the broken man possessed by the spirit of Justice, wondering if she would ever see him again.