WARNINGS: Heavy drug addiction references; graphic addiction side effects (body horror)

CULLEN

"Maker, take you!" I growled in frustration, punching my sword through the dummy before me.

I had failed yet again to grasp at my templar abilities. The cursed song hummed along my bones and at the back of my skull in a never ending melody, yet I was unable to harness it as I once had. It had been natural, without thought, a part of me. I simply a note in its symphony, but now...it was as if I could only hear an endless dirge. Mourning and anger that I had abandoned it.
"Come, sweet templar. You know all you have to do to put an end to this needless suffering. Your throat is parched for it, your stomach twisting in knots with hunger, one drink...one drink and you'll be whole. Be better, stronger. Isn't that what you want? To be better and stronger for your men? For Meira?"
 The demon's honeyed voice was like claws along my skull, poking at the seams where they had broken me in the tower. Gritting my teeth, I closed my eyes and felt along my body, searching for the song. Once so loud, so all encompassing it was hard to hear beyond it, now it was as if I could hear it in the distance. No matter how I stretched out for it, it simply got further and further away. But I could not have the peace of silence.
I sliced the head off the dummy in frustration before putting my back to it and stomping off. I needed action, some sort of distraction, anything to get my mind off the near relentless thirst for lyrium. It'd been growing worse and worse since that night in the tower, the waking nightmare of the demon wearing Meira's face as lyrium dripped from her full lips.
I licked my own in want at the memory before pinching the bridge of my nose. The ground beneath my feet nearly rose to meet me before I threw out a hand to steady myself against the stone wall. Legs shaking, pain licking its way up my spine and the ceaseless headache causing my skull to feel as if it were splitting, it took everything I had not to vomit upon the ground.

"Commander," Sela's voice spoke from behind me. The dwarven female had the uncanny ability to find me no matter where I was or how hard I tried to hide.

Wanting to groan at the pain, I forced myself to stand tall and face her. "What is it?"

"The Ambassador has returned, ser. She has requested an immediate meeting in the War Room."

"Did she give a reason for her delay in returning?"

"Captain Isabela sensed a storm on the seas, ser. She did not want to risk the travel with the Ambassador on board. They sailed a little ways, made port until the storm passed and then continued on."

"I am glad it was nothing more serious."

"Aye, ser." Sela's dark eyes flicked over me, thoughts occurring behind her gaze. Her small mouth opened as if she were going to speak, but thinking better of it she closed it once more.

"What is it, Sela?"

"Nothing, ser." She gave me a salute before departing.

Letting out a sigh, I sheathed my sword before making my way to the War Room.

...

"I was glad to hear that Prince Sebastian came to his senses," I voiced upon Josephine recounting all that had occurred in Orlais. "Our men arrived in Kirkwall a little less than a week ago."

"What of the Champion?" Leliana questioned.

"Lady Marian departed the evening after our meeting with Prince Sebastian. She left a note that stated she was on her way to meet Ser Stroud. I take it you have heard nothing?" Josephine looked between the two of us, both of us shaking our heads. "You'll forgive me for saying this, but...I am glad Lady Marian was not made Inquisitor. She is far too...troubled."

I gave a snort. "That's putting in mildly."

Leliana gave me a curious look. "You gave no disapproval when it was first discussed?"

Shifting in an effort to take weight of my aching feet, I met her gaze. "I would not have disapproved, Hawke is capable. But to lead the Inquisition? To lead what it has become? I fear she would have buckled under the weight of the responsibility...or rose to meet it."

"There are two kinds of people in this world, Commander," Leliana gave a nod. "I believe she would have risen to the challenge, but...I do thank the Maker for Lavellan. She is strong, clever, and willing to do what others are not to see victory."

"She has certainly changed from the defensive female we first met," Josephine gave a gentle smile. "She cares deeply about the Inquisition, that much is clear."

"I am simply glad to have a leader that isn't raving mad," I mumbled, earning a chuckle from the others.

"My, my Commander," Josephine teased, "I've never heard you be so informal."

"Forgive me," I cleared my throat. "I meant only that she is a capable leader—one I am glad to follow."

"Not to mention a particular benefit that comes with her," Leliana hinted, her voice suggestive.

Not giving in to the bait as the headache began to peak once more, I looked to Josephine. "What of the shards that were found at the merchant's home?" Josephine pulled out a velvet cloth. Setting it upon the table, she carefully uncovered three shards. Runes of some sort decorated the crystal pieces, familiar yet strange. The runes reminded me of those the Tranquil mages would create upon goods to be sold. "What is it?"

"Master Tethras and Ser Dorian agreed that it is a dwarven memory crystal," Josephine explained. "I took the liberty of inviting Dagna to join us to give us her opinion."

Leliana leaned forward, picking up one of the shards. Examining it, I could see her mind working. "What does it do?"

"It apparently does just as it is named: it holds memories. When the Inquisitor," her eyes flicked to me, "When Talitha fit the pieces together, it revealed how the merchant was slain at the order of Calpernia due to his mistreating slaves."

"Did we discover any more about Calpernia from this botched meeting?" I questioned.

"Enough to have made it worth the trouble," Leliana nodded. "Before she became leader of the Venatori, Calpernia was a slave from Minrathous. Even slaves with magic are treated unkindly in Tevinter. If Corypheus freed her, no wonder she follows him."

I crossed my arms, trying to stem the tremors I felt in my hands. "Her old life must have been harsh if Corypheus seemed a better master."

"Perhaps. Calpernia has freed every slave she's purchased," Leliana mused. "Vicinius tracked his 'shipments'. I have my agents investigating. This may lead us to Calpernia's lair."

A knock sounded on the door. "Sers, Arcanist Dagna awaits your summons."

"Send her in," Josephine answered.

The door opened as Dagna made her way inside. Her usual cheery smile was in place as her dark eyes swept the room. "So, this is the War Room? No wonder the others whisper about what they think is inside. Certainly impressive, isn't it? Well, I'm sure you already know that, you're always in here, but for me...wow. The undercroft is amazing, but this...just exudes power." Realizing she was rambling, she approached the table. "Sorry, you called me here for a reason. Shards, right? Dwarven...something. Memory is a bit fuzzy, got distracted by some exciting theories presented by Alexius and Felix."

"A dwarven memory crystal, Dagna," Leliana placed the shard back upon the velvet cloth. "It's in pieces, but the Inquisitor was able to get it to work by fitting the shards together. She thought you might be able to make use of it."

Dagna picked up the pieces, her eyes alighting with excitement. "This is an amazing find! The Shaperate in Orzammar had something like it. They preserve voices, or a likeness. Memories, you know? Doesn't matter, the Venatori cracked it, but here..." Dagna began to fiddle with the crystal shards, pulling out tools from her belt.

We watched in curiosity as she worked before us. Josephine began to speak as we waited. "A few more things of interest to discuss—"

The crystal became a whole once more, a strange sound emitting from it as it began to glow a deep blue. We all sprang back as before us an ethereal creature of inhuman height lumbered towards us. From its features—seared into my mind by Ellana's account—I could only surmise it was our enemy: Corypheus.

"Have no fear of demons," he commanded of whomever he was speaking to. His voice was ancient, powerful, calling forth dread.

"But the power will draw them," a woman's doubtful voice spoke. Her likeness took shape, but neither had discernible features. "Unless you have wards against possession?"

"Once you have become the Vessel, demons will be beneath your concern. Prepare as I have directed."

"I shall, Elder One."

The images disappeared as the crystal made another noise, the glow fading away. Vessel? Demons? What is Corypheus planning? What is Calpernia's role?

"Sod it!" Dagna swore. "Um—sorry, the crystal couldn't take any more. Wasn't meant for this."

"The creature was clearly Corypheus," I stated. "Does that mean the other was our elusive Calpernia?"

"That would be my guess, Commander," Dagna nodded. "It was a memory, stored in the crystal. But etching a few new runes upon the old, I was able to make the crystal project the memory, instead of just letting us hear it."

"It was more than that," Leliana interjected. "That was vital information. Did you see Calpernia's expression? Their alliance may be less than harmonious." How Leliana had discerned expressions from the vague likenesses we had witnessed was beyond me, but that was what made her the spymaster and not I.

"Corypheus said Calpernia was going to be a vessel. A vessel for what?" Josephine questioned, worry in her voice. She was a bit pale, fear still in her eyes as she had beheld the creature. No one had taken the loss of our people, the attack on Haven, harder than her.

"They spoke of power and demons," Leliana thought aloud. "But Calpernia is already a magister. Corypheus must have some other plan."

"It does seem that Calpernia hasn't bought into Corypheus's myth just yet," I stated, having noted the doubt in the woman's voice as she spoke to the creature.

"Well...I'm no Shaper, but I might be able to get it to remember new sounds," Dagna offered. "Store new memories."

"Really?" Leliana asked, excitedly. "If we hid it among Calpernia's belongings, imagine what we could learn."

Dagna became excited once more, nearly dancing upon her feet. "Aha! I can split it and keep half here! We could hear her speaking right then!" Her excitement dampened a fractioned. "It's not how they're supposed to work, and it'll probably break. As I said, I'm no Shaper."

"If the leads from Vicinius's home pan out, it might lead us to her. If this crystal were placed in her lair, I cannot overstate the value of what we might learn."

I let out a breath, pain lancing it's way up my spine as the demon's whispers began to echo in my mind. "Why not attack Calpernia head on?"

Leliana's full mouth twisted. "As elusive as she has proven already, the Venatori's spies rival our own. They would see us coming. A single agent may slip in and out without notice. This crystal may yield great rewards."

"It does seem fitting to turn Calpernia's tools against her," Josephine stated.

"Right!" Dagna agreed.

"If there is a rift growing between Corypheus and Calpernia, we must exploit it," Leliana practically snarled. She smelled blood, she was going in for the kill.

"I'll have the crystal ready soon. I think," Dagna offered as she scooped up the velvet cloth with the crystal pieces. Giving a slight bow of her head, she made her way to the exit, mumbling about quicksilver.

"As a possible contingency, Fenris volunteered to pursue the Venatori that attacked in the Emerald Graves. Perhaps he will discover Calpernia's lair; perhaps he will find something of even more value."

I scoffed. "Fenris is hardly 'spy' material. The male has a nasty habit of leaving a trail of bodies behind wherever he goes."

"I was warned as much by Varric, but the Inquisitor herself approved Fenris's mission. If nothing else, the world could do with a few less Venatori slavers. That said, I do believe Fenris shares our motivation in discovering more of Corypheus without showing our hand."

"I pray you are right," I murmured. "Anything else?" I was ready to done with this meeting and possibly seek a few moments refuge in the chambers Meira had commissioned for me. It would be short respite given that Laren, Asaala and Amelia were to be put through initiation later in the afternoon.

"Try to remain calm, Commander, but Elizabeth Trevelyan provided a location of Red Templar operations. I had a few of my agents go investigate and they have assured me her tip is legitimate. You'll be pleased to know, Commander, that two of our troubles will be solved in seeing to this."

"What do you mean?" I questioned, my voice a growl at the mention of Elizabeth.

"The location is in the Hinterlands, an abandoned dwarven thaig dubbed 'Valammar'. It is the base of operations for the bandits operating in the Hinterlands, but beyond that, their operations have acted as a cover for the Red Templars's operation. As to what they are doing, Elizabeth believes they are either mining red lyrium or using the thaig to store mined red lyrium. She was never allowed to see the operations, but helped the bandits protect the thaig until given new orders to infiltrate the Inquisition."

I grimaced. "And so she did."

"She did," Leliana nodded. "And now she will be used by us. She is to infiltrate Valammar once more, creating an opening for my agents to discreetly put an end to operations."

"No," I snarled. "I will not have her free with no oversight. This does not need to be handled delicately. The Red Templars could easily have been discovered by us attacking the bandits—as we've already done. Trying to discreetly put an end to this would bring more suspicion to Samson than to simply attack them head on.
"Clearly, it is a base they are willing to lose if they have not already abandoned it. A pawn to sacrifice so to speak—perhaps to give us a sense of comfort that there are no more, perhaps because it is of little value. If I were in Samson's place, a discreet take down would cause me to strengthen my defenses, perhaps even change locations elsewhere. A head on assault where the bandits are our focus? It would seem we stumbled upon their operations by accident."

Leliana's cold eyes flicked over me as she mulled over my words. "I understand what you are saying, but do we run the risk of them abandoning the thaig when word spreads of our coming?"

"I did not say to handle the assault without tact—stealth would be wise without knowing exactly what we're walking into," I rebutted. "We could wait until evening to strike, mobilize Corporal Vale and the others to meet us there. Paint it as no more than a rotation in soldiers guarding the area? Seasoned soldiers moving from the forest villa to Skyhold in favor of fresh recruits?"

Leliana gave a nod. "That could work. However, Elizabeth has requested to join this mission to help in possible negotiations with the bandits. They are more than mere bandits—as we suspected—they are led by the Carta. Elizabeth believes she could convince their leader to form an alliance with us, opening the door for access to more lyrium free of the Chantry."

"And how could she do that?" I sneered.

"Lady Trevelyan is rather charming, Commander," Josephine observed.

Leliana gave a wry twist of her lips. "Always so innocent, Josie." Leliana looked to me. "She is charming, but also cunning. In her time amongst them, she collected information that...this certain leader would prefer kept secret."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course. We cannot have an alliance built upon mutual respect."

"With the Carta?" Leliana chuckled. "Even you must realize the Carta does not operate upon respect, honor or trust?"

"I do," I gritted my teeth, offended. "But we are the Inquisition, not the Carta. Surely, we could gain alliances without debasing ourselves?"

"Thus why Elizabeth will be making the deal, not us," Leliana clarified. "She was not lying when she claimed wanting Corypheus and his followers to burn. If she burns with them, she will be satisfied." She met my gaze. "If it gives the templars more lyrium to have access to, would that not make it worthwhile?"

"Fine, but I want to be there," I demanded. "I do not trust Elizabeth. I will not put my men in harm's way."

"Very well, Commander," Leliana sighed. "But there is to be no word of your going to the Hinterlands. That would surely spark suspicion."

"Agreed," I gave a curt nod. "It will take some time to organize the troops, but we should be ready to assault the thaig within a fortnight. What of Emprise du Lion? Any word?"

Leliana's lips pulled into a frown. "No. The journey is treacherous, far more so than reaching Skyhold. I fear progress will be slow and it will be some time before we hear anything."

"As soon as you have word—"

"—You'll be the first to know, Commander."

"Does Trevelyan not know anything of Emprise du Lion? If we are looking in the right place?" I questioned, hating to do so.

"Elizabeth will give us no more than Valammar until she assured that her family is safe," Leliana stated. Her lips twitched. "I warned her that Valammar best be what she says and she secure an alliance with the Carta or her family is not of our concern. If she crosses me, gentle negotiations will cease. If she proves herself useful, Charter is to bring the Trevelyans here. Where they will be both safe and useable."

"Leliana!" Josephine protested. "Do you wish to make us enemies of the Trevelyans?"

"And how would we become enemies when Elizabeth died serving the Inquisition? Valiantly giving her life to save the lives of others?"

"You would...hide the truth?"

"Of course," Leliana nodded. "What use is the truth when a lie serves a far better purpose?" Her face turned dark. "Her treachery led to the loss of so many of our people. She will aid us one way or another."

"Why do you work with her when your plan, should she become difficult, is to torture her?" I questioned.

"Only if it comes to that, Commander," she smiled, though there was no warmth in it. "If she is wise, she knows better than to cross us again."

...

The meeting over, the templar initiation quickly approaching, I gave up the pleasurable thought of escaping to my bedchamber. Instead, I made my way back to the tower office. As I crossed the bridge connecting the tower to Skyhold proper, I looked to the now nearly completed towers to my right and left. One for the mages, one for the templars.
My sour mood abated for a moment thinking of Meira's surprise upon her return. Too often had she needed to work either in my office or at a crammed table in the library. I did not mind her sharing my space, but I knew she could use a space of her own. As could the mages themselves and Barris and his men. Then I was filled with longing for her and my sour mood returned tenfold.
The light from the sun grew too bright, the noises all around too loud, so I hurried to the dim and quiet of my office. Upon the desk, to my relief, were letters from my family and from Meira along with reports of the Inquisitor's and the battalion's recent adventures.
The letters from Mia and Bran were of the usual sort: updates on the farm, how little Samuel was doing, how the soldiers were helping. There was still nothing from Rosalie. Despite the mundane nature of the letters, they had become a source of comfort once more. In Kirkwall they had been a distraction from the darkness all around; here they were motivation to keep going in my staving off lyrium.
Those whom I loved were my reasons to keep going. As much as I wanted it for myself...that was becoming harder to cling to. It felt selfish to want it for myself. But for others? For those whom I hurt under its influence? That I could hold on to and feel justified in. Finishing their letters and writing brief responses, I hurriedly opened Meira's letters.

Cullen,

I, too, could use your laughter and steady shoulder. The mystery was far more macabre than I had prepared myself for. A mage child, hidden from the world by parents who could not bear the shame. Her isolation led to near madness, her fate sealed when her parents purchased an item of unknown origin and power for the child to use in hopes of removing the girl's magic.
Instead, it opened a doorway for a demon. Baiting the child with promises of fairer treatment, the two slaughtered everyone within the household. Eventually, the demon convinced the girl to...I can hardly write it, my love. The details will be in my report, but I cannot write it out again. Her end was tragic—in some ways, even more so than her life. An arcane horror was born, preying on any who were ill-fated enough to stumble across the château.
I thank the Maker we were able to put the child to rest, along with the rest of the undead. It was nightmarish, Cullen, and I long for your arms to give me comfort. Barris and the other templars cleansed the mansion. I presented the idea to the Inquisitor of using the château to house mages and Tranquil that need a refuge.
Much like the girl, those who have seen enough abuse and mistreatment that a special place—a safe place—is needed. Where I ask your advice is in how to protect them? If they've suffered at the hands of templars...templars would hardly make them feel safe.

There was an ink blotch where she must have taken a moment to think before scrawling the next sentence.

What do you think of mages joining the templar ranks? Of course they could not take lyrium as the templars do, but...why can there not be mages who serve the Maker the same way? Who protect other mages and hunt down the maleficarum? There's no need to answer now, but I ask that you think on it so we can discuss it upon my return.

An interesting idea, but one I doubted any templar would support. Then again, it could be exactly what the Order needed. Who better to advise Templars in their handling of mages than mages themselves? Who better to hold the Order to account? The two main issues would be potential bias and discontent with the mages not going through the sacrifice of lyrium usage. But if I could find a way to use my abilities without taking lyrium….I clenched my jaw, frustrated with my inability to do so.

As for the elven ruin, it was quite interesting. There was some involvement of the Emerald Knights, but mostly, the ruin was a monument to a singular knight. An elven male who'd fallen in love with a human woman. The other knights feared he was turning to Andrastianism and would divulge their secrets; that the woman was simply luring him away. He had no love for either religion, only wanting to be married to the woman that held his heart. She, a devout Andrastian, longed that he would come to know the Maker—and for her, he would have made whatever vow.
The night they were to be wed, he was delayed and the woman mistook his sister for him. Killed as she ran towards the knights, her lover hearing her cry of pain, he wept over her. The villagers had heard her scream and upon entering the woods found the elven knight curved over her body, drenched in her blood. They killed him and threw his body in the river. Fighting ensued and soon, the Exalted March occurred.
These were the true events of Red Crossing and what ignited the slaughtering of the Dalish in the Exalted Plains. Ellana was particularly troubled by the news, seeing fault on both sides. Even faulting the two lovers for selfishly choosing each other over their duty, knowing what it could lead to. Writing it now, it brings back memories of what the actions of another set of lovers led to.

Knowing she was referencing Jowan and Lily at Kinloch Hold, I couldn't help, but think back to that day. I had been so worried for her as she went through her Harrowing. Watching her immobilized form, feeling the shift in the Veil all around us as her consciousness crossed over to the Fade.
The other templars had placed their hands upon their swords, even drawing them out of their sheathes just a bit. Greagoir commanded us to be ready, his mouth pulled taught, his eyes fierce and face grim. Irving stared at Meira with a mixture of worry and excitement. None of the other mages in the tower showed the raw talent Meira did—Solana a close second. Whispers had been heard in the halls of how they hoped she fared well; but others hoped she failed, envious of her natural skill.
Greagoir had prepped me prior to her Harrowing that the test was grueling, often taking hours for completion—or moments, if possession was the end. A demon of pride had been lured, the enchanters having entered the Fade to draw it and seal it within a chosen section of the Fade. But the demon was clever, was instructed to be clever, striking a deal with Irving. It was to hide, to gain the apprentice's trust, to aid them even, all as a ruse to see if the apprentice could be discerning. A rage demon would be the decoy. Other spirits and demons were within, but they were of little significance.
I had wanted to tell Meira everything, to prepare her, but I had been expressly forbidden and told if such a thing were to ever occur, the templar would be imprisoned for treachery and the mage made Tranquil. So, I had remained silent. Begging the Maker through the whole process that she would make it out and quickly.
Only moments after she had entered the Fade, did her body reanimate. Greagoir had drawn his sword, but Irving had put a hand up. He spoke quietly to a pale Meira, who murmured back to him before fainting. Irving assured us that she had succeeded, seeing through Pride and defeating Rage. Relief as I had never known swept over me and I had taken my time to carry her back to the apprentice dorms.
Later, after she had awoken, we'd spoken—I a nervous, fumbling wreck as she looked more beautiful than ever with the joy of her triumph plain on her face—and she'd kissed me upon the cheek. It had taken every ounce of my self-control not to profess my love for her right then and there, to not take her in my arms, so instead, I'd run away. Both out of duty and innocence. No matter how much we longed to be together, we could not be; it would have ended in disaster for us both.
As it had for Jowan and Lily who'd foolishly chosen to conduct a secret affair and rope Meira into their plans to escape so they could be together. Jowan had been revealed as a maleficar, Lily betraying him in the fear of that discovery and Meira nearly losing her life for her involvement if Irving had not intervened.
What would have become of us had we thrown caution to the wind and been together? I shook my head at the thought. This was better. There was no shame, no lying, no hiding. We were free to be all that we wanted to be without fear of death or separation. Instead, we'd remained friends, taking what we could. But even in our putting duty ahead of desire, we had suffered. I at the hands of demons, she at the hands of a mad templar.
My head pulsed painfully, the dim light searing my eyes, the smell of the candles causing my stomach to flip. I could hear the cursed song emanating from the box sitting upon my bookshelf, beckoning.
"You know how to make those memories go away, sweet templar. How to drown them out with the song. You suffered, but now you suffer more forcing yourself to face it all. Lyrium would ease your pain. Come now, drink and find peace. Isn't that what you long for? Peace? Dreamless sleep, quiet thoughts, a body free of pain? How could those be wrong to long for?"
 My body was shaking, pain coursing through me and my mouth parched. I thirsted and hungered, unable to recall when I'd had sustenance of either kind. But the thirst and the hunger was for only one thing: lyrium. My surroundings shifted from Kinloch to Kirkwall to Skyhold and my breaths became panicked.
Heart erratic within my ribs, beating so wildly and painfully I thought it was leaving bruises. My skin crawled, feeling blood, sweat, and urine upon it as if I could never be clean of the tower, of Kirkwall. Screams sounded in my ears, the stench of death filling my nostrils, my own sobs echoing in my skull. I heard the demons' laughter, heard the cries of the mages as they were cut down, heard Meredith's mad ravings, heard Meira's broken cries. Maker, Maker!
 A firm rap sounded on my door and I praised the Maker as I was pulled back to reality. The door swung open, banging as it hit the stone wall. Hoping I appeared in better shape than I felt, I watched as the former grand enchanter strode into my office. Ella to her right, a young templar being dragged behind her by magic. Fiona's bright green eyes were ablaze with fury as she came to stand before me. Fighting the weakness in my legs, I braced myself on the desk as I stood to meet her.

"Forgive the intrusion, Commander, but I did not know whom else to turn to," Fiona spoke, her Orelsian-accented voice laced with anger. "As Barris and the others are gone, there are no senior templars to deal with...such matters at the moment. Given that you were a templar and you are the commander of the Inquisition's forces, I thought it best to come to you."

I cleared my throat. "I shall do what I can."

Fiona gave a nod and seemed to relax a fraction. "Thank you."

"Do not be so ready to trust him, serah," Ella bit, her eyes glaring at me. "He promised safety, freedom…and then this."

I met her hard stare. "Tell me what happened."

Ella hugged herself with her arms, her anger dissipating as unease to its place. "I…I had left my room to meet with Alain and Bethany. When I returned…I found this templar within. Rifling through my things until he noticed me. He rushed me, grabbing at me…I screamed and others rushed inside. They pulled him off me and I ran to Fiona."

Surmising what they had feared the templar would do, I looked to the man in question. He could hardly have been more than twenty. His hazel eyes met my hard stare for a moment before looking away, saying nothing.

I looked to the mages. Fiona spoke first. "He claimed it was a misunderstanding, even willingly let me restrain him to bring him before you, but I would not dismiss young Ella's fears." Fiona stepped forward, raising a hand to drop something atop my desk. "I found this on his person." It was a small leather pouch.

I gave a nod, looking to Ella. "Has he attempted anything like this before?"

Ella shook her head. "No, but he has been noticed around the mages and our rooms a time or two." She shifted on her feet, looking away. "You may not remember—may not even know—but…templars took liberties often in Kirkwall."

I gripped the pommel of my sword tightly, mind flashing to Meira in that cage. "I am well aware. Forgive me, Ella, for not realizing—for not acting—when I should have." She gave me a look of surprise, but said nothing.

"What will you do with him?" Fiona questioned.

I looked to the templar. "Let me speak with him privately, then I will decide. Depending on what I discover, I may leave the punishment up to you."

Fiona gave a nod before leading Ella out of the tower. The man was released from Fiona's spell, but was unsure what to do. I sat back down as I looked over him. All the signs were there and I knew his motivation likely had nothing to with Ella, but lyrium.

"Sit," I commanded gesturing to one of the chairs before my desk, knowing a difficult conversation was to be had.

The young man was nervous, his eyes darting about, pupils dilated. He sat, unable to keep his legs or hands still. "I wasn't after the girl, ser, I swear."

I steepled my hands in an effort to keep them still. "Then what was it about, templar?"

He swallowed thickly. "Barris has us on rations, ser. The others say you were a templar? I mean the lyrium, ser. He has us on rationed lyrium. I suppose because the Inquisition doesn't have enough at its disposal for us all." He ran a shaky hand through his sweat-dampened hair, his eyes unfocusing as he looked towards the floor.
"It's...it's just not enough, ser. I just need a little bit more and then I'll be fine." His gaze met mine, suddenly piercing. "It takes the nightmares away. The bad memories. The song soothes, ser." The demon's shadow appeared behind the man, her eyes and smile mocking me.
"Just a little more is all I ask." His gaze flicked to the pouch between us. "The mages always have the dust, ser. Kit has the rest."

I was silent for a long moment, understanding what he was going through, but also knowing—given the signs—more lyrium would only exacerbate the problem. "Are you able to perform your duties? Your abilities on the ration you've been given?"

Anger creeped into his features. "That's not the point, ser. I can't live like this!"

"It is the point, templar," I stated, trying to keep things calm and ignoring the feeling I was no more than a hypocrite. "Giving you more would not aid you."

He stood abruptly. "It'd take the infernal nightmares away! The blasted memories! Drown out their screams, their cries! You don't understand! No one understands!" He paced before me. "It's the only thing that keeps them quiet! I thought here, away from the Chantry, I could get what I needed instead of—"

He cut himself off, his back to me. "Instead of seeking out smugglers? Or stealing more?"

The man rounded on me. "Don't judge me!" Shame and anger were on his young face, his eyes too old for the rest of him. It was like looking in a mirror.

I nearly laughed at the irony of it all. As Knight-Captain in Kirkwall, I'd dealt with my share of the addicts among the ranks, but at the time I'd considered them weak. I treated their cries for more, for mercy, for relief with contempt. I'd thought myself above them, believing they lacked faith.
But now...shame and regret washed over me. What sort of man was I to not see their suffering? To have had so little compassion for the men and women I led? The Maker certainly had a sense of humor as I sat across from this young man, the weight of what he'd seen, the shame of his dependency and the pain he was enduring all evident. As evident as it had been on the others, but I had been blinded by my anger, believing them too weak for the mantle of templar. I'd ignored them, pushing them off on the healers, or requested their dismissal.
How many of those men and women were now our enemies? Their addiction having driven them into the arms of Samson and red lyrium? If Cassandra had not come...if I had stayed on the path I had been on before she gave me—before the Maker gave me—a new duty, a second chance...would I have been among them? Feeling the full intensity of my own withdrawal, knowing it was only because of this second chance that I had chosen to walk away from lyrium, I had my answer.

"I'm not," I stated, my words true. How can I judge this man when I am him? "I do understand, more than you know."

He scoffed, tearing his hand through his hair again. "Do you know how much pain I'm in? I can't sleep. I can't eat or drink enough to sate myself. My hands are so cold and they won't stop shaking!" He held them before him as tears began to slip down his cheeks. "How can I serve like this, ser?" He met my gaze. "How can I serve?"

I stood and came to stand in front of him. Maker, how do I help him? I see the path that awaits him if I give him what he wants—addiction and destruction. But to deny him? Andraste...give me the strength and the words. How do I ask another to endure what I have chosen? What if he dies or goes mad? I can hardly claim that I'm not going mad—I see the demon, hear voices, have waking nightmares and they only grow worse.
 I looked to him, his gaze upon his shaking hands once more. I knew I had my answer: it had to be his choice. I placed a hand on his shoulder. "If you knew you had a choice, would you choose lyrium or to be free of it?"

He met my eyes. "'Free'?"

"Free of lyrium."

"But what of the Order? How do I serve without it?"

A question I ached to have the answer to, but without it, I asked the same question I had asked myself. "Do you still wish to serve the Order?"

He hesitated a moment before returning to his chair. Leaning forward, his hands clasped, he let out a shaky breath as I returned to my own chair. "To be honest, ser, I don't even know what or who I'm serving by being part of the Order any more." He looked up at me.
"I saw what my brothers and sisters became on the red stuff—how easy it was for us to be fooled and twisted into monsters. I saw the wrath wrought upon Thedas as we marched to Haven, the butchery. The people were afraid and angry with us, whispers of what those who'd abandoned the Order had done to them. How do we come back from that? Is this worth it?" Tears fell down his face again.
"No one told me, ser. No one told us what lyrium would do to us. They said it would change us, that we'd hunger for it, but no one told us what it would do. I can't live without it, but..."

"—But you can't stand living with it either," I finished for him. He met my gaze, surprise on his face.

"You left the Order, ser," he stated, "do you...still take it?"

I shifted in my seat. "Would my answer influence your decision?"

He gave a mirthless chuckle. "It depends on what it is, ser."

I chortled. "Then it's probably better if I don't answer, templar. It needs to be your decision."

He sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that."

"Give me a moment, would you?" He gave a nod as I stood, scooping the leather pouch off the desk. His gaze followed it, the longing evident, but he did not react. Opening the door, I spotted a recruit on patrol along the battlements. "Recruit!"

"Ser?"

"Could you see Bethany to my office? Make it quick, recruit!"

"Aye, ser!"

Entering my office, the man was still seated. "What's your name, templar?"

"Wilhelm, ser."

I nearly choked, Wilhelm's mangled face appearing before my eyes as he became an abomination. I took a steadying breath. "Where are you from?"

"Ferelden, ser. You as well?"

"Aye," I nodded.

There was a knock on the door. "Ser, Healer Bethany."

"Come in," I ordered.

The recruit entered giving a salute before stepping aside to let Bethany enter. Her magical leg was still a wonder to look at, but I did my best not to stare. I was glad to see she was in far better spirits than she had been. The people of Skyhold were very pleased to have her as our healer once more, her manner gentle and caring, her knowledge now as extensive as Solana's. Her brown eyes flicked between the two of us, a raven brow quirked. "What can I do for you, Commander?"

"Forgive me, Bethany, for pulling you away from your patients, but this matter requires...privacy," I explained. I gestured for her to take the other chair. "Did...did Solana speak to you of treatments for templars suffering from..."

"—Lyrium withdrawal?" Bethany finished, crossing her legs as she sat. "She did. She believed it important for me to know given the templars among us and her absence with the battalion."

"Very good," I breathed a sigh of relief. "May I introduce you to your first patient?" I gestured to Wilhelm.

The young man straightened and met Bethany's gaze. "Wilhelm, miss."

Bethany looked the young man over. "Is this what you want, Wilhelm?"

Wilhelm looked between us before letting out a deep breath. "It is. The Order...it holds nothing for me anymore. Barris is a good man, as is Trevelyan, but...I can't go on like this." He shook a hand through his hair. "I...didn't know leaving was an option."

"It wasn't before," I stated. "Lyrium...is a powerful leash. But here...we'll do all we can to aid you. You're welcome to come to me whenever you need someone to speak with. As a way to appease the mages, I will state that you're confined to your room for the next week as punishment and that you've decided to resign from the Order. During that time, Bethany will see to you."

Wilhelm gave a nod. "I didn't mean to scare the woman, ser. I knew what it would look like...saw the fear in her eyes. I tried to explain, but she only panicked more." He looked at his hands again.
"She looked at me like I was a monster and for a brief moment, I saw myself as I truly was. A lyrium addict, willing to break into the mages' rooms for even a pinch of dust. Then I grabbed at her like some maddened beast wanting to keep her quiet, to...to make excuses. I thought...I thought about killing her, ser. To hide my shame." He met my gaze. "I don't want to be slave to such a master."

I could feel Bethany's eyes on me. "I understand, Wilhelm. You didn't harm, Ella. Do not place that burden on your shoulders. Instead, use it to remind yourself why you're doing this. You'll need it."

"This is going to be hard, isn't it?"

"You were trained for the difficult. Find your strength and use that training to fight this new enemy."

He stood then and gave me a salute. "I will, ser. Thank you, ser. Maker, be with you, Commander."

"And you, Wilhelm."

Bethany stood as well, but paused. I knew she wanted to speak with me, but I put a hand up. "Later, Bethany. He's your priority now." Giving a nod, she turned to leave. "Bethany," I called, causing her to turn back, "Ask him for his kit. He'll know what you mean. Destroy it." At that, she left.

Letting out the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, I untied the leather pouch from my belt. Removing my glove and opening the pouch, I stuck my fingers inside. Rubbing my thumb and forefinger together, I felt the lyrium beneath my calloused skin. Like sand, yet softer, the blue faint in its mineral form.
My eyes flicked to my kit tucked into the bookcase. Standing, I grabbed it and opened it upon the desk. Looking over the tools within, I knew I'd not forgotten the steps. Andraste carved into the lid of the box, the reminder of who we served and why we took the lyrium. The tools set within velvet trying to soften the grotesque nature of them.
Behind Andraste—the true irony—would sit a hidden compartment holding the bag of mined lyrium and extra solvent. The lyrium was not dust, instead like shards of glass waiting to be ground; mined and refined as only the dwarves knew how to do before selling it to the surface. The knives and spoon used to measure out the exact amount we were to take: too much could drive us mad or even kill us, while too little would send us into withdrawal and keep us from using our abilities.
The measured portion would go into the grinder which attached to the leather flask, crushing it into a fine powder to be mixed with the solvent within. The contents poured into a vial, the lyrium glowing a bright blue. It all was prepared, I having done so as I had hundreds of times before.
The tiny vial sang to me, the dust upon my fingers burning through my skin as it begged me to use it. Cold sweat broke out upon my brow as I was tempted to rub it along my gums, to lick it off my fingers. Some had done that, those so addicted caution was thrown to the wind. It had caused their teeth to fall out, their gums to melt, their tongues to rot out of their mouths, eventually killing them. Some had inhaled the dust instead, their faces melting off and death following soon after. It had usually been the most desperate, the most consumed by lyrium madness and addiction, forgetting what it could do to them in an undiluted form.
That is why philters were mixed with a solvent—it acted as both a diluent and a carrier to ease the ingestion of the infusion. A concoction so equally satisfying, addicting and destructive. My throat parched, legs shaking, heart beating wildly, sweat beginning to roll down my back, I slammed the box shut. Scooping up a goblet of water, I poured it over my fingers, uncaring of the wet spot upon the floor before drying them off. Wrenching my door open, I threw the bag of lyrium dust off the battlements as hard as I could. Maker, take you!

...

We stood upon the battlements, where Ser was often found. The initiation was to be carried out in as much secrecy as could be afforded as it was still considered a "sacred" rite of passage for templars. While the Order would no longer be allowed absolute secrecy, rites such as these were not for the eyes of the uninitiated.
I understood, but a part of me desired for the unknowing to witness the ceremony. Not only for the sacrifice the initiates were asked to make, but for the pain they endured to be made known. What templars were called to do was taken for granted too often—it was that contempt that had played a part in leading us here. Initiating a Dalish elf, a qunari mercenary and an archer pulled from obscurity to become the first initiates of what we hoped would be the "reformed" Order.
I stood at the back, in the shadow of a tower, my hands clasped behind me and shoulders square. The few templars that remained at Skyhold after the battalion's departure stood to either side of them creating an aisle of sorts for them to walk down. I could not help but feel that they were making the wrong decision. They could protect people well enough without lyrium.
What even was the point of their joining the Order or taking lyrium? I'd read Meira and the Inquisitor's reports of the events in the Graves. The mage child had suffered due to fear and prejudice; had suffered more at the hand of a greedy templar that put himself before his duty. The Red Templars and Venatori had attacked without mercy, had manipulated the Freemen of the Dales to accomplish their own ends.
What made the Order any different? Or the Chantry? They had both manipulated the men and women who'd joined the ranks of the Order with calls of faith, devotion and honor. But what had it truly wrought? Addiction, abuse, bitterness and shame. The Red Templars were merely the dark reflection of what the Order truly was, Corypheus the antithesis of the Maker, but the truth of the Chantry: a cruel and unrelenting master.
And I had listened, had served willingly, with every fiber of my being in utter devotion to every creed and law they laid out for me. I'd hated the female I loved for the perceived taint she caused within me at the demon's taunting. I'd despised mages for the disillusionment I'd suffered at their hands. I'd followed Meredith blindly in my anger, nearly destroying myself in the process. I'd watched as innocents suffered at the hand of the Order and the Chantry for no more than being born with power they did not ask for nor could they control. Questioning, rebelling, only when it was too late.
Yet, we were asked to subject ourselves to power that changed us within forever, opening the maw of an insatiable beast that consumed all. I looked to the three females, standing tall and proud in their templar regalia. I sensed no fear in them, only certainty. Just as I had that day we'd spoken in the tower. They knew as much as I could offer to tell them, but they still had chosen this path.
To serve. How do I serve like this?
 I prayed to the Maker they would not suffer with addiction, but knew it was futile. Lyrium would give them the power to protect, but what it demanded in exchange…I did not doubt their honor in wanting to be the sort of templars the Inquisitor, Meira and I all longed for, but...would the sacrifice be worth it in the end?
Memories of my own initiation came to mind as Laren stepped forward, giving Ser a nod to show her readiness. It had been nerve wracking that day, both knowing what was to come and stepping into the unknown. No one could prepare me for what happened, no matter how hard they tried. Just as Laren was now doing, I walked through a line of my fellow templars—friends, mentors, our trainer at the front—shouts of encouragement, slaps upon my shoulders urging me forward echoing in my ears. Laren had the same, the noise lessened by the wind upon the battlements, but the energy was no less felt.
I came to stand before the trainer, his face grim as he met my nervous gaze. There could be no hesitation, no show of weakness. His stare remained, as if in question. I gave a nod, just as Laren did before Ser. The trainer, just as Ser, nodded back before raising a hand coated in lyrium.
It was not the lyrium we consumed in a philter, this was different. The song echoed in my mind, vibrating along my spine, down into my sinew and bones. I smelled it upon the wind, saliva flooding my mouth and hunger twisting my insides such as I had never known.
The other templars restrained Laren, though the hold would be gentle. Ser's lyrium coated hand pressed against Laren's chest and a scream tore from her throat. I recalled the pain—it had seared everything, burning through skin, muscle and bone right down to my soul. My vision white, mind empty of everything but the song for what had seemed an eternity.
Slowly, I had felt myself stitched back together. Piece by piece, reknit just as I'd been burned apart. I stood before my trainer whole, yet sundered. No longer was I simply Cullen, but...more. A part of something bigger, older, something that I longed for—hungered for. Little had I known how that hunger would grow.
When Laren regained control of herself, the others celebrated, but they all—we all—knew what had just taken place. A complete rearranging of the person you were. Knit together around a singular flame within your very self. It burned hot and cold, filling you with a newfound sense of strength and fearlessness that was unlike anything. No philter after could ever bring about the same sensation that first infusion gave. That was the hunger, always longing to be sated as we were upon our initiation. Ser handed Laren her kit asking her to stand to the side and usher her sisters into the fold.
Her eyes flicked to me and in them was the only sign of the change that had taken place: their deep, earthy brown had shifted to a preternatural blue. The same glowing blue that lyrium in its raw and liquid forms emitted. It would fade within days, her eyes returning to their natural color. The only time they would change color like that from this point on would be while wielding her abilities. It would not be the same blue—though some had that—but they would be bright, almost a white-blue like our weapons when we wielded our abilities. Few beyond the Order knew of this shift, as our faces were usually hidden within helmets.
Asaala went next and then Amelia. Each time the lyrium beckoning and my resistance waning. Once the ceremony was done, the three females strode over to me, their eyes burning blue, and I could only pray I did not give away how much I was struggling. At their approach, the smell of lyrium upon them was enough to drive me mad. They were speaking to me, but my mind could not register the words, only the lyrium upon their breath causing my own to catch and speed up.
How do I serve like this? Maker, Maker! How do I serve like this? What use am I like this?
 As soon as I was sure they were finished speaking with me, I rushed back to my tower to vomit within my slops bucket. I chugged down water, desperate to slake the thirst I felt, to quell the hunger. I could have drank all the water in Skyhold, in Thedas, and it sill would not have been enough. Everything hurt, everything shook, and I felt myself coming apart.
I was weeping, I could feel the hot tears on my face. Anger, bitterness, sorrow, and sheer terror as I felt myself slipping away. Why had I done this? I'd wanted control of my life, wanted to start anew, to atone. This was not control. This was an end, not a beginning. Would my death be atonement? Madness? Had anything in my life been worthwhile to end up here? Was commanding the armies of the Inquisition, seeing our goals met through our soldiers, enough to atone? Did I even deserve redemption? What right had I to lead these men and women? What right had I to happiness, to Meira's love?
Both deserve better. A better commander could be found—should be found. Meira deserves better than a coward and an addict. I will never be the man she fell in love with, will never be the man she believes I can be. He is dead and gone.
 It was all hopeless—at the thought, the temperature in the room dropped dramatically. My breath turned cold, gooseflesh erupting across my skin, my hair standing on end. The Veil thinned.
What am I doing?! Knowing that in my weakness, I had lured a demon—most likely of despair—I sank to my knees. Clasping my hands before me, I began to pray. The room shifted, Kinloch Hold around me, but I focused on my words. Whatever had come in hopes of a meal was angry.

"Maker, my enemies are abundant. Many are those who rise up against me. But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion, should they set themselves against me. In the long hours of the night when hope has abandoned me, I will see the stars and know Your Light remains. I have heard the sound a song in the stillness, the echo of Your voice, calling creation to wake from its slumber. How can we know You? In the turning of the seasons, in life and death, in the empty space where our hearts hunger for a forgotten face?

"You have walked beside me down the paths where a thousand arrows sought my flesh. You have stood with me when all others have forsaken me. I have faced armies with You as my shield, and though I bear scars beyond counting, nothing can break me except Your absence. When I have lost all else, when my eyes fail me and the taste of blood fills my mouth, then in the pounding of my heart I hear the glory of creation.

"You have grieved as I have. You, who made worlds out of nothing. We are alike in sorrow, sculptor and clay, comforting each other in our art. Do not grieve for me, Maker of All. Though all others may forget You, Your name is etched into my every step. I will not forsake You, even if I forget myself.

"Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the Light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder. Who knows me as You do? You have been there since before my first breath. You have seen me when no other would recognize my face. You composed the cadence of my heart.

"Through blinding mist, I climb a sheer cliff, the summit shrouded in fog, the base endlessly far beneath my feet the Maker is the rock to which I cling. I cannot see the path. Perhaps there is only abyss. Trembling, I step forward, in darkness enveloped. Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.

"I am not alone. Even as I stumble on the path with my eyes closed, yet I see the Light is here."

Thank you for reading! Faves, follows and reviews are always welcome and appreciated!