The creature who had been masquerading as Morrigan vanished as it hit the ground. Lightning danced in a riotous tangle, and the snarl of thunder that echoed after it sounded too much like the thing's voice had, after it had started to drop the pretense.

Nike whirled toward Highever. The stones were streaked with soot and lichen, the windows whole and then reflecting in broken jags as the sky flashed again, only to be whole once more in the shadows.

Wind was picking up around her, the trees lashing. The roses that her mother had tended so carefully all of Nike's life were riots of bramble and thorn, what blooms remained a sickly and almost acidic yellow.

This isn't real, she thought, but thought seemed so hard, taking a physical effort. Her head ached and throbbed. I'm in the Fade. I'm trapped in the Fade. I need to get out of here.

The others? Were they also trapped? She tried hard to remember but her memories danced and eluded her like fish. She kept touching the wound on her temple as if just discovering it was there. She could not recall how she'd gotten it.

As soon as she grasped one memory, another slipped out of her hands. It was almost impossible to think, to concentrate.

She'd been talking to Morrigan, hadn't she? Where had Morrigan…?

No, she wasn't real. She was a demon or…or something. You're in the Fade. This isn't real.

She had to get out. She found she could cling to that one thought and so clung to it. She had to get out of here. She didn't know what was happening in the real world, if she was truly injured or not, but she had to get out.

The garden doors to Highever banged open, and Fergus came out. Behind him came Bryce, Eleanor, Tahja, and Oren. They all looked angry, but much as the windows had, they too changed when the lightning flashed. For those brief glimpses, Fergus looked like a woman with pebbled red and black skin, curving horns, and a lashing tail. The others, rotted and shambling cadavers, caricatures of death and misery.

"Nike, how dare you-" they all said with the same voice.

"You're not real!" she screamed at them, then turned to run. The skies opened up and rain waterfalled down on her in sheets so heavy she felt as if she were drowning.

Then she was drowning, lost in some tumultuous sea, far below the roiling surface. She couldn't breathe. She tried to swim for the surface but something was weighing her down. Something was tied to her arms and legs. She tore at the ropes, tore at her own flesh trying to get them free. Blood from her self-inflicted wounds, from her head, fogged the dark water around her and she saw something lean and predatory cruise just out of sight.

It's a dream! I'm not in the Waking Sea, I'm not drowning, it's a dream! I'm in the Fade! It's just a dream!

Briefly she realized someone was with her. No, not quite with her- superimposed over her like a reflection in a mirror. There were two sets of hands tied up with the ropes when she looked down at her own. The second set was only there when she moved, catching up to her motion like ducklings paddling after their mother. She didn't recognize the hands, didn't recognize the pale scar on the knuckle of one of them. When Nike strained up at the surface again, she saw someone swimming down toward her, and a twinkle of light reflected off of blonde hair, a known face.

Adaon!

The mage from Lothering reached her hand down and Nike reached toward it, but it was one of the superimposed hands that caught her grip, and Adaon began to pull Nike's strange reflection toward the surface, leaving Nike to sink further into the black.

Breath burned and choked in her lungs, and she tried to scream again. Adaon! No, don't leave me! I'm here! Don't let me drown!

The surface, so far above, suddenly broke. Another hand came down, legendary in size. It passed through the now distant Adaon and whomever it was she had pulled away from Nike like smoke. Nike felt herself caught up in this hand, lifted. Water rushed away from her, pouring between fingers and off the palm as it brought her up past the surface, each stream nearly a waterfall in size. Nike found herself balanced on a palm, extending from a form that was too huge to comprehend. An arm the size of the King's Highway vanished off into fog.

Then she was coughing, gasping, struggling to breathe with dirt beneath her. Her hands were no longer tied, her clothes and hair dry as if she had never been in the water, but her lungs vomited up what felt like a small sea in its own right.

"Hey, it's all right. You're all right. Just take it easy."

A hand touched her back and she weakly recoiled, turning and gaping up at the man standing above her. He was middle-aged, ragged and tired looking, his brows knit in concern. His cheeks were peppered with black and white stubble.

Nike stared at him, then looked around. She was laying on the dirt in what looked like a desert. Sand stretched out all around, the sky a riot of varying rainbow colors. All of it was hard to focus on, blurry or mere suggestion to her mind. Thought and memory still felt half frozen in her brain, coming only with sluggish reluctance.

They were in what looked like some sort of ancient ruin, only a few stone pillars or broken statues to mark it. Other than the wet patch that she'd coughed up there was no sign any water had been there in entire Ages.

"It's all right," the strange man said again. He was down on one knee beside her. He was easier to see, easier to focus on, though he still seemed faded and confused around the edges. "My name is Niall. I'm not going to hurt you. I know that it's hard to think, just take it one bit at a time. Can you tell me your name?"

"Nike," she said at last. "Nike Cou-…Cousland."

"That's good," he said with a smile. "Do you know where you are?"

She shook her head, and her fingers quested up her cheek, finding the sore spot again. There was no blood now, but as she pressed that spot the pain burned and seemed to focus her concentration. "It's a dream," she said. "I'm in the Fade. I'm in the Fade, aren't I?"

"Yes, and no," he said. "Yes, you are in the Fade, but no…this is not exactly a dream."

"Am I dead?" she asked. "My head hurts…we were in the…I-I can't remember. If this isn't a dream-"

"One thing at a time," he said gently. "Just focus on one thing at a time. Your head hurts, so you're not dead. You wouldn't feel pain if you were dead."

"But…not a dream?" she asked.

"It's difficult to explain, and if I tried you'd probably forget almost immediately. We need to keep things simple for now. Try and concentrate, to focus. I know it's hard. Where were you before you were here with me?"

Her hand still cradling the side of her head she tried to urge the memory out of it's cold, wet….cold. Wet.

"I was in the water," she said.

"Good, and how did you get from the water to here?"

"A…hand. A hand, big as a house. It came down and lifted me out of the water. I think…I think there was a friend of mine there too? But she didn't rescue me, she-"

"Don't concentrate on that, it's not important," he said. "Do you remember where you were before the water?"

"Home," she said in a slow, almost painful drawl. "I was at Highever. My family, but…no. There was a creature there, pretending. She was pretending to be my family, my…my friend. I-"

"Did you see the creature?" he asked. "Can you describe it?"

The melty way that Morrigan's features stretched downward, became sharper. No, that wasn't it. That was distortion, like you pulled clothes out of shape as you took them off.

That's what it was doing, wasn't it? It was wearing Morrigan like a shirt, and then it was taking her off again.

Why? Why was it so hard to think?

Fergus. Yes, she had- "My brother. At the end. There was lightning, and in its light I could see a…a woman. Not human. Horns, and a tail…"

"Desire," Niall said, nodding with a grim set to his jaw. "You were taken by a desire demon."

"Taken?" she asked dumbly. "Desire, I don't…I don't understand-"

"I know," he said. "The living mind isn't really meant to comprehend or recognize dreams while they are in them. Your sleeping mind is fighting with you. Dreams, the Fade, the sleeping mind…they work on different rules than the realm of the Awake, the Living. You're doing fine. You're actually quite remarkable. Most waking minds cannot, or rather will not, recognize that the dream around them is not reality, let alone to the point of being able to break out of a demon's holdfast and enter the raw Fade-"

"I don't know what you're saying. The words are…they're squirming around, like mice."

"I'm sorry, I know you don't. It's all right. One step at a time again, all right? Before you were home at Highever, before you saw the desire demon, where were you? Focus on just that. Where were you before Highever?"

She tried hard to focus, her head throbbing at her as she pressed harder at her temple. Just past the small patch in the ruins where they sat, a broken and half buried statue of a woman with a pitcher of water listed. As Nike tried to remember, the statue sat the pitcher down and started to dance. As she looked right at it, it froze again…nothing more than a statue.

She closed her eyes then, and tried to focus.

"The…we were in the Tower. They let us in to try and stop what was happening, before….before something right?"

"They were going to invoke the Right of Annulment?" Now Niall sounded keen and sharp. "You were let in to try and retake the Tower before they invoked the Right of Annulment? Why is that?"

"I don't…they're squirming-"

"Sorry. I'm sorry. Who are you, Nike? Not your name. Who are you?"

"I'm…" Throbs. Aches. Screams. "A…W…Warden."

"You're a Grey Warden," he seemed surprised, then spoke to himself. "Yes, that would make sense. If they were going to let anyone in to try and take the Tower back it would be Wardens."

She must have looked lost again, because he shifted closer, gently reached out and took her hands. "Nike, I'm going to say this as slowly and clearly as I can, but even then I cannot guarantee that you will understand or remember it, ok? Try. Try and focus on what I'm saying."

"Ok…"

"A man named Uldred is at the heart of this problem. Ok? Can you remember that?"

"Uldred…yes, Wynne said…Wynne? Winifred?"

"Wynne, yes. She's a mage. You know Wynne?"

"She was…we found her. She was with us-"

"That's good, that's really good. Wynne is smart, and strong. Listen. Nike, you're not dead. That's why it's so hard for you to focus, as I said. You're not dead, but you are trapped. Do you understand? You are trapped in the Fade."

"Ok," Nike said wearily. Her head hurt so badly. "Trapped. Like mice…"

A mouse suddenly ran up over her foot and she stared at it stupidly. It looked at her with oil-drop eyes a moment, then scurried off.

"Yes, but try not to think about mice. You're trapped and we need to get you out again. Get you out so you can help the Tower before they invoke the Right. You've gotten away from the desire demon but that's not enough. You've got to wake up again and that isn't easy. Because you're trapped."

"Trapped," she said again, brows knitting. "You-?"

"I'm not trapped," he said gently, almost sadly. "I was at the Tower too, but I'm not trapped. Not like you are. I'm…dead, I'm afraid. I should have crossed over, I should be past the Fade now but I think my worry about what's happening at the Tower is keeping me here. I…"

He must have seen her confused look because he shook his head. "Not important. You are trapped and we need to get you out of here, back to the Waking realms. Back to your body. Ok?"

"Yes, I…I need to…Connor? There was something about a…am I? I'm not an…my body?"

"It's ok, take your time," Niall said patiently. "Focus on each of your words."

Slowly, almost glacially, she said, "I am not dead. I am trapped in the Fade. I need to get back to my body, need to wake up. Am I demon-inside?"

No, that was wrong. She focused even harder. It felt like her head was going to split. "Am. I. An. Abomination?"

She let out a blast of air as if she'd just run up a mountainside instead of speaking four words.

"No, you're not an abomination," he said. "Your body, I mean. If a demon had possessed your body, turned you into an abomination, then you would be dead, like I am. You're not dead, you're just trapped. Trapped in the dream, ok? Focus on that. Not dead, just trapped."

"Trapped," she said with some relief. "How-?"

"How do we get you back? Well, that's the question, isn't it?" he said, then talked more to himself as he looked around. "There are only two directions for you to go. Deeper into the raw Fade, which would be further from your body- or back into the desire demon's cell, which would only put you back under her sway. You're remarkable for having broken free, but you broke free in the wrong direction. No mind, no mind. Damn. What to do, what to do? The only door back is through the desire demon's realm, but the moment you go back there you'll be lulled back into the demon's sway. You broke free once but I don't know that anyone's ever broken free twice. I don't know. There's…yes. Only way. Only chance."

She stared at him as he rambled at himself, memory of who she was and how she'd gotten there only fading and swimming around her in confused eddies. She kept pressing on her temple and every time she did, the jolt of pain would bring a second of clarity, but it was not enough. It was all she could do to cling to one single concept.

I am trapped in a dream, and I need to get free.

"I'm trapped," she said aloud again, looking at this strange man whose name she could not recall, as he looked at her again. "I'm trapped and I need to get free."

"Yes, I know," he said, with a gentle pat on her shoulder. Then he sighed and looked at her intently. "I need you to focus, Nike. I know its very hard, but I need you to focus as much as you can, ok? There may be one more way out of here, a way that you can get back in your body. There is someone that may be able to help, but I don't know if that being even exists. I'm going to help you try and find them, all right? Sorry. Simpler. Someone may be able to help you if they exist. I'm going to try and find them. Can you focus on that? There may be help. I'm going to find them."

"I'm trapped," she said slowly, grimacing. Why did her head hurt so badly? "Someone may help. You're going to find them."

"Close enough," he said. Gently taking her arms, he helped her to her feet. "Now, let's just pray they exist, and are not just myth."

"Someone to help. Who?" she asked. The statue with the pitcher was dancing again, trying to draw in another statue, but he was missing his legs and could not join her. "Who to help?"

"The Dreamer," he said. "Nike, we need to find the Dreamer."