Varric picked himself up and immediately hunted for Bianca, finding her not far from him. "Poor girl," he crooned, polishing a smudge on her stock. Mercifully, she seemed otherwise undamaged. "Now, let's see where we are, shall we?" He was talking to himself, and hearing himself, and he was holding Bianca, so he seemed to be alive … maybe. But they were in some kind of weird greyness, filled with rocks, and that's—well, what did he remember? Big dragon, lots of fighting, falling, green flashy thing, and now here they were. "You think Stones did something with that mark of his?" he asked Bianca, cradling her carefully. "Where is Stones, anyway? Or Hawke? Or … anybody?" At this point, he'd have been okay being stranded with Chuckles. His special brand of wit didn't survive long without an audience, and Bianca, while appreciative, was hardly a witty conversationalist. Other than late at night, after too much Antivan brandy, but they didn't talk about those occasions.
To his great relief, he heard a groaning sound not far from him. It was Alistair, sitting up and rubbing his head. "Where are we?"
Varric looked around. Same rocks. "Well, if this is the afterlife, I think the Chantry owes us an apology. This doesn't look much like the Maker's bosom to me."
"No. No, it really doesn't." His Majesty got to his feet. "Anyone else here?"
"Just us, so far."
"Ah. Over there." Alistair motioned with his head off to Varric's right, where he saw Chuckles and Daisy standing, staring off into the distance.
"Hey, you two have any insight into where we are?" Varric asked, joining them.
Daisy glanced at him with a distracted smile, but Chuckles continued to stare at the sky, which Varric now noticed was rather greenish, with a crackling Breach high above them.
"This is the Fade," Chuckles whispered to himself.
"You're shitting me. We're standing in the Fade. Physically, our bodies, in the Fade?" Varric frowned. "You do remember I'm a dwarf?"
"We don't understand it, either, Varric," Daisy told him, "but this is the Fade, and we're standing in it."
"Unbelievable," Alistair murmured.
Chuckles, still not moving, said, "The Inquisitor must have opened a rift. We came through … and we survived."
"But how many of us?" Alistair's eyes were darting all around. Varric was sure he must be looking for Hawke.
"Hard to say." A little smile lifted the corners of Chuckles's mouth. "I never thought I would ever find myself here physically …" He hesitated, as though there was more he wanted to say, but stopped himself.
Stones came out from behind a rock, leading a fairly shaken-looking Sunshine. "This is incredible. And you say it's the Fade? Last place I ever imagined to find myself." He looked over the group, frowning. "Has anyone seen Cassandra?"
"Not yet," Alistair told him. "Have either of you seen Hawke?"
They shook their heads.
Chuckles was still talking to himself. "What spirit commands this place? I have never seen anywhere like it."
"They need a new decorator," Varric agreed.
"You've never dreamed in such a place?" Thule asked.
"No. Never. Usually the Fade has … places. People. Scraps of memories. It is shaped by the desire of the spirits to be close to the feelings of those on the other side of the Veil. This is …"
"Emotionless." Sunshine's voice matched the word.
"Yes."
"Could it be because we're here physically and not just dreaming?" Alistair asked.
"Perhaps. But more likely this is a choice," Chuckles said.
Alistair looked down at Stones. "The stories say you walked out of the Fade at Haven. Was it like this, when you came through it?"
Stones had been searching for the Seeker, and Alistair's question jarred him. "How should I know?" he snapped. "I'm not exactly an authority on the subject!"
"But what was it like last time?"
"I don't even remember last time," Stones said impatiently. "Cassandra!"
"I can't imagine we're safe here," Daisy observed.
Sunshine nodded. "They were going to call some huge demon through to bind to Clarel; it must still be here."
"And there will be others. Spirits hungry to know what you know, to feel what you feel," Chuckles agreed.
"Just what we need, hungry spirits," Varric muttered.
Daisy suggested, "The rift the demons came through was nearby, in the great hall. What if it's the same here? We would just have to get there." She looked at Chuckles for confirmation.
"Yes. It should work that way."
"Beats waiting around for demons—spirits," Varric amended, catching the glare Chuckles aimed his way, "to find us."
"We're not going without Hawke," Alistair said stubbornly.
"Or Cassandra," Stones agreed.
"Then I suggest we find them, and quickly." Chuckles led the way around a pile of rocks that reached up as far as the eye could reach.
"I don't suppose you have any words of wisdom for this part of the Fade," Stones said to Chuckles. The combination of the Fade and the missing Seeker clearly had him on edge.
"Why would I ever voluntarily have come to this part of the Fade?" Chuckles sounded edgy, too, and Varric wondered why. Wasn't this supposed to be his home? He spent half his time dreaming here; he ought to be overjoyed to be here in person. He looked around them, squinting a little, studying the sky and the rocks. "The demon that controls this area is very powerful. Some variety of … fear, I would guess." He looked around at them all. "I suggest you remain wary of its manipulations. And prepare for what is certain to be a fascinating experience."
"Fascinating?" Varric asked Daisy in an undertone.
"Oh, yes, Varric. Look at it!" Her eyes were shining. "This is what I glimpse when I use my magic."
He glanced around them at the rocks and the green sky. If this was what she saw, he didn't envy her. Not at all.
"Imagine it," Daisy said. "To walk in the Fade and survive …"
"So, we survive? Good to know." Varric was glad at least one of them could see into the future.
Around the edge of a jutting rock, Thule was infinitely relieved to recognize Cassandra, and he could feel the tension ease out of Alistair when they both saw that Hawke was with her. They were both standing and staring at something—someone—in front of them.
When Thule came closer, fighting the urge to reach out and take Cassandra's hand, to reassure himself that she was all right, he recognized the figure in front of him as Divine Justinia. Since he had only ever seen the Divine at a distance in the middle of the Conclave, he was at a loss to know how he was so certain it was her, but he was.
"By the Maker," Alistair said softly.
"Divine Justinia. Most Holy." Cassandra's voice was strained; Thule could tell she was near tears at seeing her friend and mentor once again. Or was it? Solas had said the demon controlling this part of the Fade would be trying to manipulate them—was this part of that manipulation?
"Cassandra," said the image, gently, and with great affection.
"Is this really her?" he asked, looking up at Cassandra's awestruck face.
She drew herself together with a visible effort. "I … I don't know." The admission was pulled from her unwillingly.
Thule glanced over his shoulder at Solas, who shook his head minutely.
Cassandra went on, wistfully, "It is said the souls of the dead pass through the Fade and sometimes linger, but … We know the spirits lie," she said, her voice strengthening. "Be wary, Inquisitor."
"The Divine is dead," Bethany said dully. "This must be a spirit—or a demon."
"Here you stand in the Fade yourselves," the image of the Divine pointed out. "If my survival is impossible, so must yours be."
"So it must," Bethany muttered. Hawke glanced sharply over her shoulder at her sister, but Bethany was looking off into the distance, ignoring them all.
"It is no matter. You have little time to waste on proving either my existence or your own." The image's eyes met Thule's. "You do not remember what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Inquisitor."
"No," he admitted unwillingly. "And the Divine wouldn't have known that title."
"Cassandra just addressed you by it," the image reminded him gently. "But that is not of importance now, and it wastes time."
Point to the image, whatever it was.
"What is the demon that controls this part of the Fade?" Solas asked.
"Nightmare. That which you forget upon waking, so deeply held that you cannot admit it even to yourself."
All the humans and elves in the party looked distinctly uncomfortable, and yet again, Thule was glad to be a dwarf and avoid all that messy dreaming business.
"It feeds off memories of fear and darkness, growing fat on the terror." She looked at Alistair, and then at Bethany. "The false Calling that wakes you at night, that terrified the Grey Wardens and broke their minds with their fear? Its work."
"Well, then, I look forward to repaying the favor," Alistair said grimly.
"You will have your chance, brave Warden." She looked around at them all. "The Nightmare serves Corypheus willingly—his reign of darkness has brought much terror, and the Nightmare gluts itself upon it. If you kill it, you harm Corypheus greatly."
"Two for one. I love a bargain," Varric said.
"Can you help us get out of the Fade?" Thule asked.
"That is why I am here. When you entered the Fade at Haven, the demon took a part of you. Before you can escape the Fade, you must recover that part."
"What part?"
"Your memory. You feel the hole in your mind, do you not?"
He wouldn't have put it quite that way, but his lack of memory had been bothering him for a long while.
"As you fight the demons who serve the Nightmare in this realm, you will regain pieces of what you have lost. Only then, when you are whole, can you face Nightmare itself."
"Well, by all means, let's kill some demons," Hawke said, her hand on the hilts of her daggers. "It's been entirely too long."
Solas glanced at her disapprovingly, but he didn't argue about the necessity of killing Nightmare's minions, for which Thule was grateful.
The image of the Divine disappeared, and they moved on toward the image of the Breach in the sky, hoping that was the direction of the rift in the great hall at Adamant.
The first demons seemed to come from nowhere. Thule had his blades out quickly, but with every slash and cut, memories sounded in his head, deafening him, confusing him, until he didn't know where to turn or where to look. He felt someone's hands on his shoulders, shoving him out of the way of the battle.
"Take him!" he heard Cassandra say, and then Merrill had hold of him, her slender hands gentle on his forehead as something seemed to burrow into his brain. He closed his eyes against a bright flash of light, and suddenly there he was again, in the Conclave, wandering the halls looking for the cache of lyrium he was supposed to pick up and deliver back to his Carta contacts.
He opened a door, and there was the Divine, held haniging in the air by some kind of energy. The Grey Wardens surrounded her, and she called out to them for help.
In front of her stood a creature, twisted and darkened and looking like death, holding a green glowing orb near the Divine's face.
"What's going on here?" Thule shouted.
Startled, the creature jerked and the orb fell, rolling across the floor. Thule reached automatically to pick it up, and something burned into his hand, jolt after jolt of pain running up his arm.
And then the vision was gone, and he was back in the Fade, the others surrounding him with looks of concern and curiosity.
"So your mark did not come from Andraste," Cassandra said after he explained, her disappointment clear in her voice. "It came from the orb Corypheus used in his ritual."
He wanted to apologize to her, but he had never claimed to be connected to Andraste; he had never known what had happened. He hadn't lied to her—she knew. But she had constructed something in her head, and now that was gone, taken from her, and there was nothing he could do about it.
"Corypheus intended to open the Veil," Merrill said. There was curiosity in her voice, wonder, as though she found it a fascinating puzzle to contemplate. "He wanted to step into the Fade, as we are now."
"So when I picked up the orb, I gained the Anchor instead of Corypheus?"
"Yes."
Thule sighed, getting to his feet. "That may be an interesting fact for the history books, but it tells me nothing—not about Corypheus, or a weakness for the demon, or even a way out of here."
"The Divine said once you had your memories back, you would know a way out of here," Varric said.
"Not exactly," Solas corrected him. "The spirit only said that once his memories were restored, he could face Nightmare. Presumably, our exit from the Fade goes through the demon who controls this part of it."
A cry sounded through the air, shaking the very rocks. Bethany looked up. "It knows we're here," she said in the same monotone she'd been using since they got here.
"Good," Hawke said. "Because we're its worst nightmare." She looked at her sister, clearly hoping to see a response to her bravado, but there was nothing.
"Is no one going to mention the Grey Wardens?" Cassandra asked, her voice that telltale firm, reasonable tone that meant she was at her most dangerous.
"What about them?" Alistair asked, eyeing her warily.
"They were the ones holding the Divine. What have you to say about that, Your Majesty?"
"I don't know." There was pain in his voice, and helplessness, and sorrow.
"Their actions led to her death."
"So it seems. He must have taken their minds."
Cassandra's level gaze said what she thought of someone who would let Corypheus take their mind.
"We can argue after we get out of here," Varric said impatiently to both of them.
They looked at one another, and then away.
As they walked on, Cassandra fell back with Solas. Thule glanced back, wanting to walk with them, but she wouldn't look at him, and so he kept just ahead.
"Could that truly have been the Most Holy?" she asked Solas, an eagerness in her voice that Thule had rarely heard.
He shrugged. "We have survived in the Fade. Perhaps she did as well." But he didn't sound as though he believed his own words.
"If it is a spirit," Merrill offered, "it may have identified so strongly with Justinia that it believes it is her. Can we deny it that?"
Cassandra looked as though she could, but in the face of Merrill's earnestness, she didn't say as much.
"She seems interested in helping us, at least," Hawke said. "Can't we just leave it at that?"
"Personally, I just want to get to this Nightmare and kill it so we can get out of here," Thule said grimly.
"Preying on fear? That's low, even for a demon." It seemed to be getting to Varric; he clutched Bianca tightly to his chest, looking around him apprehensively.
"Fear is a very old, very strong feeling," Solas said. "Older than love, compassion, pride—every emotion save perhaps desire."
Thule wondered if the elf's eyes had flickered to Merrill there, or if he had just imagined it. This was a terrible place to be a romantic, but it seemed he couldn't help it, not entirely.
"After what this demon did to the Wardens, all I want is to find a way to take it down." Alistair's words were edged with steel, and Thule could truly see the warrior in the king … and the Warden.
Then, through the air resounded a voice. "Ah, I see some foolish little boy comes to steal the fear I kindly lifted from his shoulders."
Thule looked around, feeling in a sudden rush all the inadequacy he had spent so much of his life fighting through. He could be the strongest dwarf he knew, the broadest of shoulder, the quickest of strike, the firmest when it came to decision-making, but that would never make him as tall as a human man; it would never make humans look on him as a true equal. They would always look down on him and see his size as a measure of his intelligence, of his worth. He swallowed against that self-doubt—he was the Inquisitor, one of the most powerful men in Thedas, he reminded himself. His size had nothing to do with it.
"You should have thanked me and left your fear where it lay, forgotten," the Nightmare continued. "Tell yourself what you like—the only one who grows stronger from your fears is me." It chuckled. "Perhaps I should be afraid, facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition. But I am not." After a pause, it went on. "Once again, Hawke is in danger because of you, Varric. The red lyrium has spread because of you. Everything you touch kills everything you love … and it always will."
Varric bit his lip and pretended to be polishing Bianca, but Thule could see a suspicious brightness in his eyes as if he was holding back tears.
"Merrill … failure as a First, failure as the savior of your people, murderer of your clan. Your legacy to your people is one of death and despair."
"No," she moaned, but it was clear the demon had her number. Solas turned to her, questions in his eyes, but she looked away from him, hanging her head.
"Your Inquisitor is a fraud, Cassandra. You put your faith in him, and everything about him was a lie."
Thule looked at her, frantic to tell her that, no, he had never lied to her, but she avoided his gaze.
Nightmare went on, "Yet more proof that there is no Maker, that all your faith has been for naught."
Her hand flexed on the hilt of her sword, then relaxed. No, don't believe it! Thule wanted to shout, but she was closed to him now; she would never listen to him.
"Die in the Void, demon," she said, but her voice lacked conviction.
"Bethany, Bethany, Bethany. Are you never to stand on your own two feet? Dragged through life by the choices of others, always told who to be and what to want. Your whole life has been fashioned for you by someone else, and you were too weak to stop it. You always will be."
Bethany didn't respond; she didn't even lift her head.
"Dirth ma, harellan," the Nightmare said. Both Solas's heads and Merrill's snapped up, his eyes on the sky and hers on him. "Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ena mar din."
"Banal nadas," Solas snapped back.
Nightmare chuckled again. "Did you think anything you ever did mattered, Hawke? Used by Anders, used by Alistair, used by your parents, by Meredith, by Dumar, even by Varric to write his little story … nothing you wanted ever mattered, did it?"
Hawke's face crumpled into tears. Bethany looked up at the sky, frowning thoughtfully, and then she got up and crossed to her sister, putting her arm around Hawke's shoulders, holding her fiercely.
"And Alistair, the little king. Your father put you away, Duncan left you behind, Leyden chose death over a life with you, and now you've failed at being both a Warden and a king, a man and a lover. Makes you wonder why you were ever born, doesn't it?"
The demon was laughing out loud now, triumphant laughter that shook everything around them, as they stood frozen. "Defeat me? You can't even defeat your own fears."