Leandra held her family's rosary, counting the beads between her fingers as she sang the Chant silently to herself. She knew she was at the Maker's mercy at this point and she had no idea what kind of god he would be right now. Was Isaac innocent enough to be spared His wrath? Sometimes she knew not even that mattered. She had to be strong for her cousin and yet she could find no more strength within her. She needed to make that phone call, inform Revka and yet how could she?

She felt frozen by death, he had come for her again. With her grandfather at least it was peaceful, in his sleep in his old age. But when the Hartlings were taken by an irreverent drunk driver who survived it himself, it shattered Mara, and she never quite recovered all the pieces.

Leandra remembered Mara's dark days. She stopped eating as if she had to punish herself that she still lived. Leandra would bring over meals from her favorite restaurants just to get her to take a few bites. The grief made Leandra awkward. She was so used to leaning on Mara when it came turn to lean on her, Leandra found she could only give old advice, that Mara would see her family again at the Maker's side.

But Mara asked a question that still scared Leandra to this day.

"What if the Chant's all bullshit and that's just something people say so we don't get sad?"

Leandra didn't know how to answer that. Mara was angry at the Maker and had lost her faith. Leandra didn't know how to give it back to her when she had too many questions herself.

The conversation ended awkwardly, with Leandra trying to get Mara to eat again. A sidestep. A misstep.

Eventually Mara started pushing Leandra away and everyone else. She partied dangerously, experimenting with anything that could take the pain away for a few moments. Leandra dragged her out of plenty of seedy Lowtown houses and backwater bars with Mara fighting her every step of the way, only Gamlen able to calm and steady her.

He saved her when Leandra couldn't. He brought brightness back to her life and Leandra had never felt so helpless. Shallow. Useless. Like her faith was.

She tried to make it up to Mara however she could, it was a regret she'd always hold.

Now she was praying even as the shreds of her faith were left in tatters? Isaac barely turned nine. Revka had already lost him to the Circle, but to lose him to a demon, she didn't think Revka would survive it.

How could the Maker be so cruel?

And as much as her nephew's death scared her, there was another regret Leandra found bubbling up that made her feel vulnerable, like she knew this would break her. Her eyes flicked to Malcolm, his presence so calming and assured. His honey eyes looked so resolute as he signed his death waiver without even a flinch.

"Do you want to write out some last words to anyone? Any confessions you'd like to make to a priestess?" The First Enchanter asked, tiredness in his voice.

"No need, I'm not dying," Malcolm said in the same self-assured manner he always had.

Leandra bit her lip, his hubris making her panic more than feel at ease and she said, "we should at least bring you to a Sister to give you the Maker's blessing."

"Don't need that, either," he gave her that sexy lopsided grin that made her breath stutter even as his words dripped with blasphemy.

Leandra opened her mouth, her words caught for a second, her cheeks hot. "A-are you really so arrogant that you think you don't need the Maker's protection?"

Malcolm's face then turned serious meeting her eye. "I'd rather skip the rituals. Isaac's timeline is more important."

Leandra's mouth dropped but found no argument. He made sense and yet to think he would go in the Fade again without the Maker's hand guiding him. Her heart clenched frightened at how badly it ached at the thought of his loss. That he could die without her knowing what his touch felt like. This feeling felt too premature to be called love but it was so close, it scared her. Too soon, she thought, and yet she wondered now if she was also too late. Would the Maker see Malcolm's arrogance as a slight and take both Isaac and him from her this day?

She didn't know what else to do. She took the rosary from her fingers, and draped the cord around Malcolm's neck. "Then take this. It's protected my family for generations."

She had held that rosary during every Mass, blessed her family every night with it, and though she hoped it would protect Malcolm she couldn't see it as anything but a pretty trinket she carried for comfort. Maybe it would protect him, or maybe he could just wear it and think of her. She found she had no more use for it.

Malcolm dangled the golden sun chain between his fingers as if he had caught the tail of a dead animal. "I do not need to be accused of stealing this."

Both the First Enchanter and the Knight Commander seemed surprised by Leandra's gesture and was unsure what to make of it. "Hawke is right," the Knight Commander said for the first time, "he's too irresponsible to handle something so valuable."

Malcolm bristled at the implication in the Commander's tone but Leandra was ahead of him. "Well then I'll give it to him with all you as witnesses so now you can't accuse him of thievery." Her eyes glistened, as she looked at him, imploring him to accept this small token if not the Maker, of herself. "You need it more than I do."

Malcolm's shoulders dropped, letting the amulet fall against his black robes. He bowed his head in respect, his dark curls falling in his face. "Thank you for your generosity, my lady." He then added with a wry chuckle, "though something with Isaac's essence would help me more."

Without missing a beat Leandra said, "I have that, too." She dug through her purse bringing out a children's book with different automobiles with faces on it. It looked too rudimentary to belong to a nine year old but Leandra said, "This is Isaac's favorite book. If he has trouble sleeping he might want you to read this just front to back again and again." The Knight-Commander's thin lip completely disappeared as she dug out a small cloth bag. "These are his building blocks. He might not warm up right away but if you start building something he'll absolutely want to join in if you ask." She closed Malcolm's hands over the items as she handed them over, the smell of his clover musk soothing her frazzled nerves. "Would any of these help? He hasn't held these in months."

Malcolm nodded, opening the bag with interest. He held a small bright red tile between his fingers. "No, I can tell these mattered to him. They are coated in his essence." He dropped it back into the bag, the blocks clattering together as he closed it and he gave a reassuring smile. "I'm sure he'll be thrilled to have these back."

That's when the Knight-Commander finally intervened, "I can't allow these. This goes against regulation."

Leandra's shoulders snapped back in fury. "A child cannot have toys?"

The First Enchanter leaned in. "Lady Amell, there are many mage children whose family cannot send them toys. It causes jealousy. It is better that he learns that the Circle is home."

Leandra couldn't accept that. "And what home can it be if you're so harsh that a child cannot play. Is it any wonder my nephew fell prey to a demon!?"

The First Enchanter gathered the large stack of forms they had wasted time on between his gnarled fingers looking completely uncomfortable with Leandra's temper that only seemed to be rising. "Lady Amell, please be civil. I understand you are stressed due to these events. Go home. Rest. It is in the Maker's Hands now."

Leandra crossed her arms, planting her feet firmly. "Excuse me? I'm not going anywhere until Isaac is safe."

The First Enchanter tensed sharing a look with the Knight Commander. "My lady," the wizard's mustache twitched, "we don't have the facilities to house a noble. Your safety must be maintained."

Leandra scoffed so hard it blew the bangs from her forehead. "For 10,000 sovereigns you'd better figure it out!"

A snicker escaped Malcolm's throat drawing the glares of both the Knight Commander and First Enchanter and that's when Carver stepped in, an uncomfortable bystander to a convenient rescuer. He bowed his head to the Knight Commander offering a peaceful smile. "I believe the chapel can be isolated for the lady. There she can pray for her nephew's recovery."

The Knight Commander pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache and with a wince he said, "Fine." His eyes then leveled his most intimidating glare to Leandra as he said, "but the Circle is a military institution, not a day spa. Don't expect to be entertained."

Leandra met his glare with one of her own, though it looked like a chihuahua going after a pit bull. "Oh I'm entertained enough by the fact that you used my family's misfortune to fatten your coffers. Dare I ask what happens to the mages whose families cannot meet your outrageous price?"

And like a chihuahua, she went right for their knickers.

They dropped their eyes from Leandra's accusatory stare, their faces twisting into uncomfortable grimaces as the silence answered her question.

Leandra's heart hardened with more anger. What a barbaric place this was. She tightened her grip on the strap of her purse as she readied to dismiss herself. "Do your duty, gentleman, and know I will be watching." Even if she had no powers of her own, she could at least hold them to that.

Isaac was fine this morning. Malcolm still recalled the huge smile on his face and the boy was practically vibrating at breakfast. Ever since Leandra told him of their connection he made more of an effort to speak to the boy, though the conversations were mostly them making truck noises at each other. Today, though, when Isaac came to bus his tray for Malcolm, Isaac actually spoke words.

"My mama's coming," he bounced up and down.

"That's awesome, little dude," Malcolm offered him the usual friendly high five but the boy was so excited he ended up head bumping the flat of his hand shouting,

"Beep!"

It kinda hurt but Malcolm laughed regardless. Then Isaac turned to Taylor with the same excited smile, "My mama's coming," he repeated with the excited tone.

"That's wonderful, Isaac." And when he got his praise from Taylor he turned to Charlie.

To think so much could change in a few hours.

The Harrowing Chamber still smelled like death and everything was as horrifying as Malcolm remembered it. The Fade here was thin, like a film and Malcolm could hear the faint echo of screams that still carried within the stone, thousands of deaths layered upon the other. If he closed his eyes he could see the last moments of mages meeting their ends.

Lanterns lit the walls making the room dark and the shadows bounced off each other as the ground was discolored by various stains that they failed to scrub out. In the middle of the chamber was Isaac strapped down to a table, sweating profusely, his bangs sticking to his forehead as his body fought the demon the only way it knew how. A bright red barrier surrounded Isaac, keeping him in place in case the transformation completed. He whimpered as he thrashed in his nightmare, his voice still chanting in an echo that repeated itself;

"My mama's coming."

Along the walls lined the Templars surrounding Malcolm, their guns gleaming in the threat of his failure. The helms hid the Templar's faces but he could feel the eager energy in the air, ready for slaughter.

Malcolm's hands were sweaty with nervousness as he waited for Senior Enchantress Karena to finish her spell.

Malcolm fiddled with Leandra's rosary, well his rosary now, but it was coated in her spiritual energy, almost making it feel like her arms were wrapped around his neck. It made him breathe easier in the nightmare of being back in this room. Gave him hope that there was some kind of future for the two of them after this.

Enchanter Karena hunched over an ancient spellbook reading over the instructions, her glasses giving her fish eyes as she stirred different animal and plant parts into the lyrium brew. She seemed to be taking a long time, cutting things down into the smallest batches and scraping only the tiniest pinches into the mixture.

Malcolm sat on the gurney that they had wheeled in for him, feeling antsy. He gazed over the over at the cauldron, the mixture foul and pungent and heady. "Do you need help?" he offered genuinely.

The Enchantress scowled, "Excuse me, young man, I have made this spell hundreds of times."

Malcolm wasn't sure how he offended her this time but he gritted his teeth, biting back his usual snark. "Look, I'm just trying to speed things along. Isaac doesn't have a lot of time."

"Don't rush me! If the ratio is off there can be dire consequences," she snapped but then she turned back to the brew with a frown, "but I've never made such a weak concoction. With only one vial of lyrium I'm not sure there will be enough strength to pull you into the Fade." She glared at Malcolm, her squinted eyes enlarged in glass. "If you were boasting, young man, that child will pay the price."

Malcolm scoffed. How many times must he prove himself? "I don't need to boast." If only he could slip into the Fade right now and skip this charade. He still had a tile from Isaac's toy bag, even though Carver had to 'confiscate' everything else Leandra brought which also included some sour gummy worms, a phone and a drawing his sister made for him. Still, the tile would be enough to track his dream. He didn't need this witch's brew.

Then Enchantress Karena pulled a vial from a case that was especially red, viscous. As soon as she uncorked it an iron smell filled the air.

Malcolm didn't like the way it tingled the hairs in his nostrils. He wasn't sure what would happen if he drank that. He had never ingested lyrium before but he was sure it would make taking care of whatever demon assaulted Isaac a piece of cake. Malcolm wrinkled his nose in recognition. "Is that what I think it is?"

Enchantress Karena stiffened as she poured in the vial. "It's the essence of life and will help tether you to Isaac."

Malcolm shook his head. In other words, Isaac's phylactery.

He watched as a portion of blood was mixed into the blue shimmery concoction causing it to bubble, the whole cauldron taking a purple sheen as she stirred. It thickened the air with a copper rain-like smell.

"Soooo, how is this not blood magic?" Malcolm wrinkled his nose. Sure blood would be the easiest way to find his essence but he never expected the Chantry to actually resort to it.

The Enchantress snarled. "This is nothing like blood magic, blasphemer!"

Malcolm held up his hands in mock innocence. "Hey, I'm just asking a question. Don't bite my head off." Still he couldn't help but feel like the Chantry were a bunch of hypocrites.

An armored hand clapped his shoulder, gripping slightly in a warning to be quiet. "Let's let the Senior Enchantress concentrate," Carver's voice echoed from underneath his square imposing helm.

Malcolm sighed, dropping his shoulders as he relented. Of course the Circle sanctioned blood magic under the circumstances they deemed fit. He wasn't sure why he was even surprised, but it made Malcolm wonder what other secrets the Circle was hiding.

Carver bent over his eyes gleaming from the darkness of his helmet as he said in a low voice. "Don't take any stupid chances in the Fade."

Malcolm scoffed, whispering back, "This isn't my first hunt. I know what I'm doing."

"Still," Carver drew his shoulders together, "it never hurts to be careful." He lowered his helm to Malcolm's ear and whispered, "what if it's that terror demon?"

Malcolm stiffened. He had considered that as a possibility, and his leg swung impatiently from his seat. "Isaac's managed to hold on this long. Have a little faith."

Carver nodded, the tension not releasing from his shoulders.

Soon the purple brew darkened a few shades and the Enchantress took her spoon tapping off the extra liquid back into the cauldron, the sound echoing like a dull bell through the chamber. "It is done." The Enchantress poured the concoction into a goblet and passed it to Malcolm. "Now drink every drop and lie down immediately."

Malcolm gagged as he stared at it. Thankfully there were only a few mouthfuls to swallow but along with blood he had seen animal organs and poisonous mushrooms ground in. His skin turned a shade greener as he held his breath, unable to take the raw odor.

But then he remembered he could change the flavor and took a moment to weave the spell over his tongue before he knocked it back into his throat. He tasted strawberries again, but the texture still made him gag and there was still a distinct coppery taste that overlapped the flavor and burned into his nostrils. He forced himself to swallow before he coughed wishing he had soured something else. The liquid numbed his mouth and his throat and he found himself unable to say anything as he tried his best not to throw up.

"Lie down," she reminded him curtly, pressing his nails into his shoulder and back into the gurney.

His head knocked against a firm cushion, the swirling feeling overtaking him as the room started to discolor and spin.

She then snapped her head at Carver as she took Malcolm's arm and strapped him down with the leather bindings. "Bind him firmly, Knight Captain."

Carver obeyed, his helm obscuring his expression, but his fingers shook as he bound his friend's limbs tightly to the gurney.

The ceiling melded into indescribable colors but then Malcolm realized it was because the Enchantress had activated the containment barrier they had drawn around Malcolm. The room was swirling as his skin prickled with energy, the lyrium buzzing in his blood so it seemed to be singing.

The pull was immediate, the room melting away and replaced by images of a green sky, the stone walls growing into jagged hills as a road stretched before him, unpaved and uneven the hills glittering with the darkest obsidian. The Fade felt so real, the air smelling like the sea, the gravel crunching beneath his body as he pushed himself upright from the ground.

Usually traversing the Fade felt like walking through a memory, details not always in focus, but he could see every whorl on his fingers, feel the breeze wafting through his hair, smell the dirt coming from his clothes. He looked behind him and saw that he was trapped on an island, a sharp fall into a bottomless chasm that stretched out like the sea. The island stretched upwards and upwards into a tower so high that the clouds obstructed the view from the top. The other islands lay barren and pulverized, every path destroyed except the one forward.

Malcolm thought for a second that he had been deposited to the gates of the Black City but when he gazed over the chasm, there it hung in the sky, looking closer than ever. He plucked the Fade strings with his fingers, reaching out to Compassion.

She didn't answer him.

In fact nothing did.

That's when Malcolm noticed there was something strange about the way the Fade here was constructed. For one the usual hum of spirit chatter was nonexistent, the Fade strings seemingly gnarled and cut up. He could sense no connection to any spirits like he was a shorting circuit, and it gave Malcolm a sense of unease. He couldn't read the terrain like he usually could. It just seemed like the whole area was frozen in a silent scream. The memories of the Fade had been stripped completely blank somehow.

"Somniari?" Compassion's voice finally rang out in his mind and he flinched like he had been burnt, but the feeling faded into discomfort. The hair on the back of his neck stood at end as the voice coated him, primal fear seeding in him, but he was quickly reminded of his previous conversation with Compassion and bit down the feeling as best he could so he would not warp her.

"A child is in danger of being possessed," he said aloud, the connection starting to feel more familiar each second, the unease subsiding as he chalked it up to being in the middle of a demon's web. "I could use the backup."

"A child? Oh dear, I must come immediately," her voice said with more enthusiasm than usual. Malcolm thought it odd, but before he could think much on it she appeared before him, her robes more fitted than before. Her eyes burned brightly, but the azure color a shade more lilac than he remembered, but no sooner than he thought that in a blink, the color looked more familiar, and Malcolm chalked it up to a trick of the light.

"Thanks for getting here so quickly," Malcolm kept polite, but his eye never left Compassion studying her as she took in her surroundings in interest.

She gazed down at the abyss, her braid dangling almost like a snake with how it moved.

Forcing down uncertainty he said, "I think I sense Zefuckwad here, but I'm not completely sure. Something's wrong with this place, right?"

Compassion's eyes flashed as the corner of her lips quirked in a smile for once not correcting Malcolm's mispronunciation. "This realm is sundered, memories swallowed, but whether it is the work of Zelophehad remains to be seen." Her voice tripped over the terror demon's name, and for a moment it seemed like the Fade stirred, as if it flinched.

Malcolm could agree with her assessment. There was no memory in the stone, no whispers telling him of secret knowledge. "I'm certain," he suppressed a shiver. "Only felt like this once before. And the fact Isaac was taken doesn't feel like a coincidence."

The spirit pricked up at Isaac's name. "I sense your connection to the boy. He is precious to you?"

Malcolm's gut twisted. "Not to me," he admitted. He suddenly wished he had made more of an effort to build a connection. The boy seemed lonely. He never seemed to hang out with anyone his own age, but clung to his teacher's skirts.

"Ah," Compassion cocked her head in sudden understanding. "The connection is to the one is Bound to your heart. My mistake."

Malcolm suddenly felt uncomfortable, unsure what was relevant about this conversation, though to hear Leandra was Bound to his heart did strike a sense of joy in him. He could sense the Compassion spirit watching his reaction in interest and he decided it was time to change the subject.

"I can track Isaac," Malcolm said, feeling the block that still was tucked in his physical hand. He pinched his fingers, feeling the ridges, and soon the little plastic red tile formed shining brightly. He let the tile go, letting it take life. It blinked in it's yellow light, flitting around in a circle as if it was trying to get a sense of direction.

"Impressive," Compassion nodded, "and so what do you need me for?"

Malcolm touched the tile and it spun, glowing like a star in the murky Fade. "To keep me alive."

The tile floated like a wisp, droplets of light leaving after images of where it flew. It darted up the rocky path bouncing up and down as it waited for it's master to follow. Malcolm sighed, dropping his shoulders as his feet crunched up the rocky steps.

The castle hills were craggy that slid down and threatened to plummet them into the chasm below. The walls of the castle crowded them against the cliff, as if they were reaching for Malcolm. Some of the steps crumbled beneath his feet, the rocks clattering down to the bottom and into the pit. The beacon stayed in sight flitting just out of reach leading Malcolm higher and higher until they reached a deserted courtyard. Ruined rubble filled the area, the grass dead brown and dry. Two beheaded statues guarded a dark murky portal that served as the castle's door. The beacon floated between the crossed axes of the statues spinning in place before it sucked into the hazy rippling portal with a bloop.

Malcolm looked to Compassion. "Isaac's inside but I don't like the idea of just charging in blindly."

Compassion looked between the cracks of one of the large walls that caged them in, her lips in a small thin line. "What are you suggesting?"

Malcolm thought for a second. He had never had to be so careful on a hunt before and he wanted to do this as stealthily as possible. "Can you coat me with your essence? I can hide my physical form but if the demon can track my aura it would be pointless."

Compassion looked hesitant, even though the request seemed simple enough. "Your aura is so powerful I'm not sure mine will do much to mask it."

"Do you have a better idea?"

She smiled. "I do," she then opened her hand and in a flash of white light a staff of dark gnarled twisted wood with long purple thorn spikes appeared in her hand. "This is Thornheart. Use it in the coming battle."

As Malcolm's fingers wrapped around the shaft, his hair raised up in alarm. He had never felt so much power in his hand, and he suddenly felt stronger, faster, more alert. He balanced the staff, feeling the ridges of the bark beneath his fingers, an unsettled feeling sinking inside him. "Not sure if a branch is going to help me."

"It is my soul in solid form. It is the greatest aid I can offer."

Malcolm felt her power seeping into him, her foreignness feeling like a leather glove over his skin. The way the magic melded together made him slightly nauseous, like he had gorged on too many sweets. The energy gave him a buzzing feeling, and he felt like he needed to run a few laps to burn it off. He ignored that and waved the staff instead, trying to pull parts of the Fade into himself to help mask his presence. By the second turn of the staff he was completely invisible.

"I'm right behind you," Compassion spoke in his direction though it offered no comfort.

Malcolm gritted his teeth as he looked at the portal, feeling that familiar darkness lurking within. The demon could have wiped Isaac out at any second, but Isaac was alive, being toyed with. And Malcolm felt responsible for putting him there. If he was smart enough to use the boy as bait, then this changed everything.

With a steadying breath, he steeled himself for the worst and stepped inside.

Suddenly he was in a mansion, grander than he had ever stepped in before. Kids' drawings filled the walls and toys were everywhere, servants surrounded them in a flurry as they brought down luggage from a grand staircase. A tall brown man with a silky mustache that connected to his beard and a wide nose was walking down the stairs as two screaming children held his legs, one a little girl with long brown hair and bright brown eyes, and the other boy he recognized as Isaac.

"Daddy please," the little girl held onto his pants leg as if she was holding onto her life. "Daddy please don't go."

Isaac just kept repeating the same phrase over again like a mantra. "I'm sorry."

The man practically kicked his children off. "Get off me! I'm not your father. Your mother's a cheating whore."

Malcolm clenched his fist, ready to clock the man, but moving in dreams was not like moving through life. Each part was played by a different demon, only Isaac the true player. Malcolm stepped closer to the family, waiting for his moment to strike.

The man headed for the door, Isaac dragging on his heels. "Daddy," he sobbed, snot bubbling down his nose. "Daddy. I love you."

The man recoiled as if he had been hit. He bared his teeth, "You are a thing. You don't even work right. There is no way I am your father."

That's when Malcolm almost swung, but before Malcolm could, another demon came from one of the back rooms and started throwing clothes at the man. She was a plump woman with warm caramel skin and a long satin dress. "Get out!" she screamed. "Say no more words to my children and leave before you infect them with more poison."

The man's nostrils flared. "Gladly. Just don't come running after me for coppers to feed these creatures."

She huffed, angry tears in her eyes. "As if I ever needed your money."

The man slammed the front door in Isaac's face, almost smashing his fingers. "Daddy," he said in a broken voice.

His mother scooped him up as he cried on her shoulder, Malcolm breathing a sigh of relief. Now he just needed to find a way to speak to Isaac to wake him up without alerting the rest of the demons. He tried to find where Compassion was in the nightmare but she had gone oddly silent ever since he stepped through.

The boy sobbed into his mother's chest, the other little girl reached for her with outstretched hands as she joined in the family cry.

"I'm sorry, loves, I'm sorry," Isaac's mother wiped her children's eyes. "We're cursed. We're a cursed family. This is all my fault."

Malcolm tensed as Isaac renewed his wailing.

The little girl stopped crying and said. "Mama, how do we break the curse?"

The woman smiled through her tears as she cupped the little girl's face. "It's simple. We die."

Isaac took fistfuls of his mother's skirts. "Mama, no. Mama, no."

The woman took hold of his chin with a razor smile. "Oh, my sweet child, I should have drowned you at birth. It would have saved you so much suffering."

That's when Malcolm finally revealed himself, slicing the demon's hand with a wave of his staff. He gra

"Mama!" A frightened Isaac elbowed Malcolm in the face.

Malcolm gave him some more room but didn't let him go.

"That's not your mother, look at her more closely," he struggled to keep the boy still. He was surprisingly strong for his small size.

The boy reached out for his Mother, her arm not bleeding as much as it should. Her teeth and eyes looked sharper but it didn't seem to matter to Isaac. He couldn't see past his nightmare.

The woman waved with her unhurt hand. "Isaac. Mama's leaving now. And she's never ever coming back."

"No, that's not your mom. Your Mom is waiting for you to wake up, little dude," Malcolm forced the boy to face him but Isaac's eyes couldn't leave his mother.

Isaac's Mother grabbed his sister's hand and with a sly smile turned her hand on the doorknob. And then Malcolm realized his mistake. He had forgotten to protect the portal.

As soon as the woman opened the door every corner of the room filled with blackness, the only slits of light now emanating from the goat's eyes splitting from the darkness. The servants and Isaac's family started to warp as the nightmare changed into more sinister shadow forms. Isaac's outstretched hand lay frozen as the face of his mother morphed into Compassion.

Except now Malcolm could finally see that it wasn't Compassion at all. The demon was wearing Compassion's face, but her skin was now too purple, her eyes darkening to a malevolent shade of violet glowing like embers.

A desire demon. Her brown hair started to float as it mimicked the fire that should be on her head.

Malcolm instinctively reached for his weapon but the staff wrapped around his wrists, thorns snaking into his arms and into his torso. Malcolm let Isaac go before the thorns could wrap around him, too.

Malcolm tried to speak, tried to tell Isaac to wake up, but only blood coughed out of his mouth.

"Mama?" Isaac cowered from the figure in confusion, his eyes and heart seeming to wrestle with what was happening.

The Desire demon outstretched both arms, her hand regrown into thorn-like points, her robes turning into flowing strands of silk. "Bound and offered, Master, as you commanded. I told you my plan would work."

The goat eyes swirled in amusement as another figure loomed in the portal forming in the tendrils. "So you said, Avarice. I am most impressed."

Malcolm's spine chilled, trying to move, but the more he struggled the more it hurt. He could feel something stabbing his heart, keeping him from speaking, but even if he could his words would be stolen from him. The voice the demon took raised all of Malcolm's hair on end and he withheld a tremble as his father stood before him.

The elf was all lean muscle, his fists scarred and fingers broken from fistfights and punching walls. Malcolm forgot how much he looked like his father, the same nose, the same shaggy curls, the same smattering of freckles, even his eyes were the same shade of gold except instead of regular pupils they were square like a goat. They blinked eerily, the corner of his eyes and lips wrinkled into sharp lines.

Malcolm knew he made a mistake but he was so focused on Zelophehad he had never considered the demon would team up with another to trick him, never considered that the demon would successfully dig out the thing in his psyche that would freeze him in place. He watched helplessly as the Desire demon sauntered up the steps towards Isaac, holding her arms out in a welcoming hug.

"Come to Mama."

Isaac stood his ground, trembling in fear. "Y-you're…not…" The boy couldn't finish his sentence. He stood instinctively near Malcolm, even though there was nothing Malcolm could do to protect him at this point.

Malcolm tried to push through the pain, his panic riding against him in an oncoming wave, but couldn't let himself be overcome. He saw only one option, and he started to subtly weave threads from the tips of his fingers towards Isaac.

The demon was coming closer, faster, it was hard to focus on weaving the magic with the fear eating at his nerves.

"Your mama's never coming back. But I can be your mama. I promise I'll never abandon you, child."

Malcolm panicked as the demon closed in, about to grab Isaac but before she could Zelophehad blinked beside the demon and grabbed her wrist. He raised a thick eyebrow, his sneer almost a smile. "And what are you doing with my snack?"

The Desire demon looked too terrified to fight, but the confusion on her face was apparent. "M-master, I thought this was what was agreed?"

WIth a flick of Zelophehad's wrist, he broke the demoness' wrist and she howled in pain staggering back. "I agreed to let you have my scraps, but if you're so impatient you're welcome to be included on the menu."

The demoness looked conflicted. The anger was apparent on her face. "This is how you repay my service? You will reap what you sow."

Then she blinked away from sight leaving Malcolm alone with his terror demon.

Malcolm had forgotten how overpowering the demon's presence was, blanking out thought.

Isaac shuffled towards Malcolm grabbing his hand in fright, and Malcolm squeezed back, trying to offer what comfort he could.

"So shall I eat the boy first?" the demon circled them lazily, slouching with confident ease. Tendrils of dark tentacles circled around his legs and snaked up his arms reaching out to taste the fear on Malcolm's bound body. "Or will you chivalrously go first?"

Every movement still shredded him, but he found with Avarice gone, her magic was no longer overpowering and he could force himself to speak. "Real cocky considering you made your servant do your dirty work."

"And why not?" Zelophehad said with a gleeful smile. "Is it not what they are for?"

Malcolm scoffed, though that made a thorn stab deeper into his ribs. He held onto Isaac's hand his Fade strings wrapping around his balled fist. He saw only one way out of this. "You haven't won, yet."

"Good," the demon grinned. "I like a meal that has fight. Let's see how brave you are after I eat your charge." Then the tendrils wrapped around Isaac pulling him towards the demon.

Isaac screamed, squeezing onto Malcolm's hand, and Malcolm pulled, wrapping the rest of the Fade strings firmly around Isaac.

Malcolm closed his eyes, diving into the depths of his psyche and pulling Isaac along with him. He felt the pain intensify as Zelophehad tried to rip Isaac away from him, but Malcolm pulled them safely both into the safety of his mind.

Their spirits tumbled as the Fade tried to give form to their consciousness, Isaac and Malcolm's memories melding together in projections in every corner he saw, the overlapping memories serving as the Fade's usual hum. Malcolm could feel the terror demon ripping off the walls of his defenses, following him inside. He was at his most powerful since it was his mind therefore his dream, but he was also cornered, trapped. If the terror demon managed to overwhelm him here, he had no more tricks to pull, no hidden hole to dive in.

Malcolm wouldn't have done this if he had another choice.

He needed to become conscious, take control of the dream, find Isaac and wake them both back to safety, but that was easier said than done. The Fade had not become so much as moldable clay but a projection of thoughts and wants sprung to life with just a breath. Any stray thought, no matter how tiny, could derail everything.

It took all of Malcolm's energy to focus in the dream fog, like a dulling drug to his senses muting his thoughts. Isaac. He needed to find Isaac. He repeated the name in his head, not allowing any other thoughts to surface. He suddenly recalled something Leandra said after gifting him the rosary, which was like a warm tether on his neck. Without another thought he tore off parts of the Fade and reshaped them into brightly colored blocks.

And started building a simple wall. He clicked the pieces together, slowly building as he started to recite what he could remember from the book Leandra brought.

"In this big wide world,

We all have a place

Every bee needs it's rose,

Every rose needs it's vase."

Soon the walls formed into a house where he left room for a couple windows and an opening for the door. The shadows of Isaac's memories strengthened with each stack of the block, as Malcolm led his spirit back to him.

"But where do the broken and stinky things go?

When the pen in the ink refuses to flow

Do we keep all the clutter? Does anyone know?"

"Yes," a small voice finally answered him, "it goes in Mr. Dumpdump's tow."

He looked up from his work to see that Isaac had joined him, taking the blocks in his hands with focused effort as he started crafting his build.

"Hey, little dude," Malcolm sighed in relief. "Are you ready to get out of here?"

But Isaac wasn't listening to Malcolm. His eyes never left his hands as he built up the walls of his structure with impressive speed, all while reciting the book like a mantra.

"He takes what is bad

So things can be good

Isn't he the best neighbor

In the whole neighborhood?"

The Fade churned as the walls of the dream struggled to take shape in the competing mindscapes of Isaac and Malcolm, the familiar Circle the only common ground for the Fade to form in. Malcolm could tell Isaac was paler than usual, his eyes seemingly blank as if he was far away and not at all aware what his hands were doing. The Fade was practically responding to his creative urges forming walls around him, as if he was trying to block himself in.

Malcolm crept up to Isaac, his fingers reaching out hesitantly. "I'm going to wake you up, now, but I need you to trust me."

"How can you trust him?" Revka's disembodied voice rang shrilly across the Fade. Suddenly Revka was there dressed in fitted royal purple silk, her brown hair loose around her shoulders. She outstretched a pointed nail at Isaac, her pupils too square to be human but everything else was a remarkable likeness. Yet Isaac was frozen, staring at the image of his Mother with a tremble as he fumbled with his blocks. "Come to Mama, Isaac. Let me in."

Malcolm stepped closer, imploring Isaac to listen. "She's not real. Your real Mom is waiting for you to wake up."

The demon smirked with a sharp toothed smile. "I'm your Mama. This elf is the one who is not real. Why would he help you?"

Isaac blinked at Malcolm, his eyes suddenly filled with distrust.

Malcolm held up his hands showing open palms forming no spells. "This is a bad dream, Isaac. You can end it now if you wake up."

"If you wish hard enough you could have more than just this little reality," Revka's laugh tittered as the Fade started to shape into what Malcolm could only guess was some twisted form of Isaac's old bedroom. The building blocks seemed to take a life of their own building into the sides of the room. Kids drawings filled the walls and books filled dragon shaped shelves. Revka sat down on Isaac's bed, her fingers beckoning him to come closer.

Isaac's eyes filled with tears. "I-I can't."

Malcolm dared to take one step closer to Isaac. "Let me help you wake up."

The Nightmare growled, the room distorting color. "He wants to kill you. Don't let him get close!"

Isaac froze, as if he didn't consider that and backed away from Malcolm. When Malcolm took another step closer Isaac took another step back closer to the Nightmare.

Malcolm gritted his teeth, wondering what he could do to prove to Isaac that he was really him and not some twisted imitation. He needed to prove to Isaac he was real, but he didn't know how.

And then it hit him and Malcolm took a deep breath and belted out the loudest most obnoxious "HOOOOOOOONK!" he could manage.

The Nightmare blinked in confusion as the boy broke down in a fit of surprised giggles.

Malcolm joined in the carefree laughter, ignoring the glaring Nightmare demon and said, "Hey, don't leave me hanging. Your turn."

The boy didn't hesitate, he threw back his head and screamed, "HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!" in a louder, more obnoxious way that only a 9 year old could manage.

The Nightmare's forces seemed to be shrinking in the laughter and the demon scowled. "How undisciplined. I guess it's time to punish you until you listen."

Then the Nightmare leapt, his claws forming into long scythe-like points as he raked for Isaac.

Malcolm twisted the Fade around the Nightmare and turned into a crushing prison, paralyzing the demon for a moment but he wasn't sure with its strength how long it would hold.

He turned back towards Isaac who was now huddling behind his constructed wall, his head in his knees and his hands over his ears.

Malcolm crept beside him. "Little dude," he said in a hurried voice. "You need to wake up now."

"I c-can't," he sobbed into his knees, holding fistfuls of his hair.

The demon howled in pain, causing Isaac to tremble.

Malcolm reacted with haste touching his forefingers to each side of Isaac's temples, pouring his magic into him.

Isaac popped up socking Malcolm in the jaw as he gasped in shock.

The jab hurt but Malcolm held firm and Isaac's next fist went through Malcolm as he faded back into the waking realm where he was safe from the Nightmare's grasp.

Suddenly a claw wrapped around his neck, digging into his skin but no sooner did the Nightmare grab hold did he fling his hand back like he was burnt.

Malcolm looked down to find the rosary around his neck glowing in what he could only describe as a heavenly light.

Warm trickles of blood seeped down Malcolm's neck and when he touched the cord it grew hot. A strange and unfamiliar sensation ran through him.

Malcolm wasn't sure what happened. That was no spell he weaved and yet the demon seemed to eye his rosary with a wariness that he didn't reserve for the man himself.

The Nightmare's face contorted, its shape shifting into several darkspawn like forms before it settled onto the face of Malcolm's father, but Malcolm was a bit more ready for it this time. Still the sight of the man before him made him take an uneasy step back, his nerves instinctively screaming at him to wake up from this nightmare.

"Are you going to face me like a man or run like a rabbit?"

Malcolm clenched his fists, the slur even from a demon like a punch to the gut. Still, he knew when he was being baited. "Yeah real manly going after a child. You really do take after my father." Part of him wanted to throw every spell he knew at his disposal. It was his dream, but he was facing the Nightmare. He knew it was smarter to run.

"I'll take that as a compliment," the demon examined his burn in disinterest, a casual smirk on his lips. "But I have to say if you don't get rid of me now, I only plan to become a bigger problem." He tapped a finger on his lip. "Shall I try to eat Charlie next? Taylor?"

Malcolm's heart froze in his chest as the Nightmare's golden goat eyes seized him in place with the next name that fell from his smirking lips.

"Leandra has been looking awfully delicious," the Nightmare fell back to the rosary neck and gestured to his burned hand imprinted with its beads. "Shall I pay her a visit now that you've generously supplied her essence?"

Malcolm saw red, sending crackling energy at the demon but it disappeared in a blink and his lightning bolt hit a wall of colorful blocks scattering them.

The demon suddenly appeared behind him delivering a stunning blow to the back of Malcolm's head.

He saw stars as he struggled to reorient himself. He sent a clumsy fireball at the demon's direction, but even if the demon didn't teleport out of reach again the ball would've barely grazed the demon.

Malcolm was ready for the Nightmare to be in his blindside again, and moved to dodge, but his foot was caught. He looked down to see that a tentacled hand had wrapped around his ankle from the floor and prevented him from missing the crushing blow to his nose that made his eyes water.

Blood spattered from his face, streaming down his nose so he couldn't breathe. It felt broken. Jostled, he picked himself up enough only for a blow to the chest that knocked the wind out of him.

This went on for a while, Malcolm barely keeping his footing as he absorbed blow after blow that he was too slow to react from, each spell dying in his hand before he could fling it. He was unsure why the demon chose to use his fists over something more lethal like magic or claws or anything, but Malcolm realized that even with those goat eyes when he was staring at that face the punches hurt more, his reflexes were more hesitant, and that familiar taunting laugh tripped him off balance.

This didn't feel so much of a fight as a beating.

"What's the matter, boy?" The demon punched Malcolm in the stomach, avoiding the rosary by inches. There was an unexpected weight behind each punch but this one felt like being hit by a freight train and Malcolm keeled over, almost throwing up blood. "Weren't you supposed to be teaching me a lesson?"

The demon then knelt beside Malcolm's crumpled form and caressed his curls fondly, which made Malcolm shiver as distant memories were quickly brought to the surface. "I'm going to take everything you love sooner or later. You have two choices, the painful way, or the less painful way. It's up to you."

Malcolm tried to flee, to wake himself up, but all he could do more was cough and gasp as he tried to breathe through his pain, the memories of his childhood terror so fresh, he was trembling. His voice was caught in a web he couldn't get out of. All he could do is touch the rosary around his neck, praying for the help that burned the demon before.

The Nightmare seemed to sense this so he sighed, grabbing fistfuls of Malcolm's curls. "The painful way, then."

One punch shattered his nose.

"Even if Leandra loves you, she'll always love her status more." Malcolm struggled to breathe as another punch knocked out a tooth. "They'll laugh at your children." Another punch dislocated his jaw. "What kind of a father will you be anyways?" By the fourth punch he was losing consciousness, and he struggled to grasp for his body in the waking world before it was too late. Suddenly the Nightmare stopped and took in a heavy annoyed sigh.

"You are intruding, little spirit."

Malcolm's spotty vision noticed a blinding glow in the darkness in the room. He raised his head to see Compassion, the real Compassion shining brilliantly, a rainbow crystal staff wielded in her hands.

"Have you not feasted enough, Zelophehad? Is your hunger so great you must swallow everything in your path?"

The demon smirked malevolently, his bloody knuckles cracking as he clenched his fist. "My gluttony is boundless. My wrath is unquenchable. My greed unsatiable. A little compassion will do nothing to stop me."

Compassion stood vigilantly, unshaken, her staff brightening with indescribable colors from the carved crystals. "That's where you're wrong."

She met Malcolm's gaze, his head trapped in Zelophehad's fist, her azure fire eyes burning. "Somniari, trust me," And then Compassion turned the crystals to the ground, and poured light that made the floor glitter like diamonds.

"Awaken again, my friends," Compassion poured more healing magic into the Fade, the air brightening to a more normal greenish hue.

The demon hissed, dropping Malcolm to cut off Compassion.

Malcolm hit the floor with a thud, breathing in the magic, that seemed to soothe his aching, broken body. Suddenly, the Fade was no longer silent, a rush of hurried frightened whispers of the particles of the Fade woke up and filled up Malcolm's thoughts with indecipherable chatter.

"Shut up!" Zelophehad bellowed as he dove for Compassion, his claws coming out to scythe-like points but she blinked out of sight and then beside Malcolm.

She knelt down and touched him with her iridescent hand.

The magic was almost instant. In one breath, everything ached, like shards of bone were digging into his gut, his eye was swollen shut, his nose too mangled to breathe through, and then in the next moment it was like coming up from a cool pond. There was an uncomfortable sensation of bones knitting back into place, as a cooling healing touch soothed his burning skin. In a few moments he could move more normally again, his vision clear, his mind alert.

Zelophehad growled holding up his hand and a beam of concentrated dark light shot towards Compassion. Malcolm, still grounded, threw up a barrier without thinking, and Compassion did the same. The double barriers cracked but held but the force still blew them back. Zelophehad kept the assault, making the beam bigger, the energy arcing wildly.

"Wake up!" Compassion ordered.

Malcolm balked, his energy being drained by trying to keep the barrier reinforced. "Don't you need help?"

"You're in the way," she sneered, which was like a slap in the face to Malcolm. Still, as much as that stung he couldn't argue that he pretty much had his ass handed to him that fight.

"Fine," he scoffed, pulling back the magic, and reaching for his body back in the waking world. As he did, the barrier started to crack, light showing through.

Malcolm hesitated, pouring more magic into the barrier.

"I have this handled. Flee, you fool!" Compassion hissed, the crystals of her staff quivering in effort. Suddenly the Fade air shimmered around Compassion, sealing the cracks in her barrier as soon as they formed.

Malcolm wasn't sure what Compassion's plan was, but it was clear she knew more about what she was doing than Malcolm did, so he pulled back his magic completely, and concentrated on reaching his body. It was quicker with the lyrium in his system. He could feel the buzz of it speed up his magic in a way he didn't think possible so that instead of falling he felt like he was flying back. He was unsure what magic Leandra had given him, but all he knew was that she saved him.

Red light finally filtered through his eyes, and he opened them quickly to find blood all over his face and robes and every templar pointing a gun at him. Even Carver.

Malcolm gulped nervously, his limbs still bound to the gurney. He found himself struggling not to panic at the sight of his friend holding a barrel at him. "I'm not possessed."

Carver lowered his gun slightly, but there was a hesitancy to it. "I'm sorry Malcolm, but we're going to need a test."

Malcolm's gut dropped. He had forgotten that Carver was still a templar though it would be harder to forget in this moment. He gave a nervous, bloody grin and said. "Yeah, dude, whatever you need."

Carver walked up to the barrier and turned to the Senior Enchanter and said, "lower it."

Enchanter Karena nodded and with a wave of her staff the red barriers around Malcolm and Isaac came down.

Carver looked over at Isaac who was strapped to his own bed with a frightened look on his face.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Carver said in the most soothing voice as he could manage, though it was hard to believe with his gun strapped to his side.

He took out a device that looked like a small tablet and scanned Isaac's head. Isaac squirmed to the side as the device beeped and fed Carver information. It was supposed to be the templar's foolproof way of thwarting possession, looking for extra brain waves or unusual activity. Though sometimes mages that looked completely fine were sometimes pulled because of weird readings so it never failed to make Malcolm nervous.

Though whatever was on the screen seemed to satisfy Carver. He started unbinding the straps, turning to the Senior Enchanter and said, "get this boy into the infirmary. He's very weak."

She nodded and hurried to Isaac, unbinding him fully so he could stretch out his arms and legs. He sat up reluctantly, helped by the Enchantress, who proceeded to cover him with a blanket to help with his shiver.

Carver approached Malcolm with the scanner, and ran it over his head.

Malcolm could hear the device whirring and beeping. This wasn't the first time he'd been scanned but it never failed to heighten his nerves.

Carver's voice was a whisper as he eyed the drying blood on Malcolm's face. "Are you alright?"

To be honest Malcolm wasn't sure. His body didn't ache anymore, but the pain was like a ghost haunting him, his father's cruel mocking laugh still ringing in his ears. He wondered for a second if Compassion made it out alright, or if he had gotten her killed. He might have gotten Isaac safely back, but this felt like a defeat.

"I just need to see Leandra," his voice was almost begging. He wasn't even sure if it was protocol, but he just needed a moment, so it all could mean something. He wasn't sure if he would last if he didn't end the day at least seeing her face.

Carver started unstrapping his ties as the templars lowered their guns hesitantly, looking at each other in disappointment. "Let's get you cleaned up first."

Revka's sobs filled the chapel as she squeezed Leandra's hand in a vice-like grip. She had taken the first plane back to Kirkwall and had stormed the Circle, along with Guillaume, Mara and Gamlen who had generously picked her up from the airport. (Well Mara and Gamlen were supposed to, but Guillaume insisted on coming to show support to Leandra.)

Now the five of them were huddled in a group prayer as they begged the Maker for Malcolm to succeed.

The nuns were all very accommodating, reciting the proper Chants with them, and invoking protections on Isaac on Malcolm from afar, though Leandra felt so powerless she felt like she was only doing it to keep her and Revka sane. Because they had to do something to make the time pass.

When asked about the rosary during prayer, because Leandra always prayed with her rosary, she evasively said she lost it and hoped it would never come up again. She was surprised when Gamlen scolded her, because he wasn't particularly religious. Still, she knew what he would think if she told him the truth.

"It's my fault," Revka sobbed, breaking from the Chant as she crumpled in exhaustion. The others broke off from the Chant, looking away to give Revka the privacy of a breakdown. Even Gamlen didn't have anything smart to say for once.

"No,' Leandra squeezed her hand. "You can't think that."

The tears streamed from her eyes as she shook her head. "What kind of Mother is not there for her children? Colette's all alone at home. I had to abandon Anna during our visit and now Isaac...is lost."

Leandra pulled Revka in for a hug unsure of what other comfort to offer. "Have faith in the Maker, Revka. He will deliver Isaac."

'And Malcolm,' she added silently. She didn't dare say his name aloud while Guillaume was by her side.

Suddenly the doors to the chapel pulled open and all of them turned to see who disturbed them. Carver and the Knight Commander stepped through, side by side, Leandra deflated, thinking that they were by themselves when Malcolm finally lagged behind, a noticeable sag to his shoulders and a sluggishness to his steps.

Revka stood up and pushed her way forward towards the Knight Commander. "Isaac. He is safe?" It was a command rather than a question.

"He is, my lady, you can rest easy," Carver bowed his head with a warm smile on his lips.

Revka's eyes then overflowed with tears. "Thank the Maker. And thank you Commander."

The Knight Commander preened at the gratitude. "Only doing our part."

Revka's hands flew to her eyes as she hastily wiped them. "Can I see him? Just for a moment."

Carver looked imploringly at the Knight Commander who seemed uncomfortable with the idea. "It would do wonders for Isaac's recovery."

Leandra stepped up beside Revka glaring at the Knight Commander, joined by Guillaume and Mara. The Knight-Commander's eyes passed over them, seemingly wanting to avoid a fight, and turned to Carver and said. "Yes, yes give her five minutes and then they all need to leave."

Revka looked overwhelmed with relief and eagerly held out her arm to be escorted.

Only for Carver to be distracted by the fact Mara was there. Their gazes seemed to catch, her face going red as she avoided his shocked stare. He seemed frozen, as if he had not expected Mara to be there at all, and he didn't notice he was staring until Gamlen put a possessive arm around her.

"Captain?" Revka asked impatiently.

Carver shook his head as if he was breaking from a daze and said, "Sorry, my lady. This way." And then he took her arm and started leading her out of the chapel.

The Knight Commander then stared at the rest of the group as if they were ruining his day. "Your mage wishes to return your trinket."

Leandra bristled at the phrasing the Commander used and she found herself arguing. "It was a gift."

Malcolm bowed deeply to Leandra, the rosary draping from his fingers. "My lady, the protection magic on this saved my life, and for that I thank you, but I would rest easier knowing it's guarding its true owner."

Gamlen looked outraged seeing the rosary in Malcolm's fingertips. "A gift? I thought you said you lost it? Leandra what were you thinking?"

Leandra opened her mouth to argue when Guillaume put a warm hand on her waist and said, "My lady only ever has the purest intentions, Lord Amell. Do forgive her."

Gamlen barked out a laugh as he eyed Malcolm, a shit eating grin as he muttered "Poor schmuck," under his breath.

Mara elbowed him in the stomach with warning eyes to be quiet.

Leandra stiffened at Malcolm's sudden glare, not able to voice what she was thinking and took the rosary back feeling conflicted and partly rejected. Their fingers brushed as the necklace exchanged hands, the feeling like a shock to her heart. She wanted to insist he keep it, but she knew that it would be inappropriate and rude so she bit her lip and examined the beads, noticing some new stains on the metal. She gasped. "Is this your blood?"

Malcolm looked sheepish. "Sorry, I thought I cleaned that better."

The Knight Commander put a warning squeeze on Malcolm's shoulder as he pulled him back from Leandra and changed to the real subject he wanted to talk about. "As you can see Malcolm is the finest mage we have to offer."

Guillaume put a finger on his chin. "Yes, ser, I quite agree," he said. He offered his free hand in a friendly shake. "You are quite talented, messere. This means everything to Leandra. I can't thank you enough."

Malcolm gritted his teeth staring at the hand as if it stunk, but one glance at the Knight Commander had him schooling his face and he took the hand politely. "Anything for my lady," he said while looking straight into Leandra's eyes as he gave Guillaume the firmest shake he could manage.

"And a man's handshake at that. I'm very impressed," Guillaume beamed amusedly.

It took everything Malcolm had not to snort. He wiped his hand on the side of his robes feeling vindictive and petty. To see Guillaume's hand so casually on Leandra's waist was like sitting down for a good meal only to find a dead fly in it.

The Knight Commander gave Malcolm's shoulder another squeeze. "We look forward to your renewed bids on Hawke's services. We assure you we're training him daily and instilling the best manners and education so he can best attend to your needs."

The Knight Commander's words made that two dead flies.

Malcolm looked at Guillaume, a tall handsome man with everything and the world, who could hold Leandra's hand in a crowd and kiss her openly in the sunlight, or the moonlight, and everything in between. He found himself trembling as he tried not to scream or cry or punch the man senseless.

Guillaume pulled Leandra closer and took one of her hands as he stared seriously into her eyes.

Leandra shied away from him but didn't stop the embrace from happening which was like a dagger in Malcolm's heart.

"Ma cherie, after everything that's happened with Isaac I wouldn't dare put us at odds any longer."

Leandra couldn't meet Guillaume's gaze, her eyes pulled unwillingly to Malcolm who was not looking at them at all. "Guillaume, I don't know what you mean."

Guillaume patted her hand. "I'm withdrawing my family's bid for Ser Hawke. If there is truly a curse, then I shall not have you unprotected."

Leandra didn't know what to say so she went with a diplomatic, "That's very generous, Guillaume."

"Not at all," he said, kissing her cheek, his mouth lingering near her face. as he said, "Besides we'll be husband and wife soon, so chances are he'll be serving us both in time."

And that's when Malcolm turned to the Knight-Commander and said, "I think I should go check in on Isaac, yes?"

The Knight Commander seemed surprised but pleased by Malcolm's initiative and said, "Do that. I will escort everyone else out."

Leandra immediately launched after him as he stormed away, forgetting anyone else was there. "Malcolm!" she cried out.

He turned to meet her, stopping her with a glare and she went red, realizing that Gamlen was smirking at her as he raised an eyebrow about how she would play this.

"Leandra, is something wrong?" Guillaume stared in confusion, a hand touching hers imploring her to spill her troubles.

But her attention was on Malcolm. She bit her lip as Malcolm watched her along with everyone else and unsure what she was doing she stuck out her hand like Guillaume did. "I'm truly indebted to you. I won't forget my whole life, what you did for me."

Malcolm's face softened into a smile, truly the only thanks he was actually looking for, and he couldn't help but take her hand since it looked so warm and inviting, "And I'd do it again," he said as he brought her hand to his mouth and put a chaste kiss on her knuckle.

It was proper, but so very intimate that her face flooded with warmth, her breath caught in her throat.

"Messere Hawke," The Knight-Commander barked strictly, causing the both of them to jump.

Malcolm cleared his throat and left without a word, the Knight-Commander glaring daggers into his back.

Every goat eye searched the whole surface of the Fade, but it seemed that the Compassion spirit had indeed escaped his labyrinth. How she managed to get in, he did not know. Everything in this realm was supposed to be loyal to him. If there were whispers of her coming he should have known about it.

And yet the Fade protected her. Hid her. His own minions of his realm would not raise a hand to fight her.

What was she to them?

And why was it so hard to kill one measly Compassion spirit? They had hardly any offensive powers. They spent their days healing the sick, not taking on embodiments of darkness. Still if the Somniari Bonded with her, it would prevent his Bonding to take place. The Spirit would have to die first.

An eye alerted him that it found something and he teleported to a wing of the palace that he had forgotten about but seemed to have been altered. Drapes of fabric held from the ceiling and it seemed like collected human artifacts like statues and goblets filled with gold and shiny jewels was scattered through the room. In the middle was a bed draped in silks, the roof overhead broken so the moon shone on Avarice in a masculine form, wearing nothing at all. Her chiseled muscles were relaxed in the plush bed as she stared at Zelophehad with a smirk on her face.

"So he got away."

Zelophehad almost killed the demoness out of pride but his need for her kept him from lashing out. "There was an intruder. Why did you not take care of it?"

The demoness' long fiery purple hair danced on her head lazily, "I thought you didn't need me."

The taunting jab made Zelophehad punch a decayed wall. A new crack ran up it all the way to the ceiling. "I can always find a smarter demon."

That only made her smirk widen. "I delivered the Somniari gagged and bound, as ordered. I could have had him for myself, Master, but I only spared him because of my loyalty to you."

Zelophehad sneered, his ugly mouth a mess of gnarled teeth. "That Compassion spirit will regret toying with me. I'll burn every ounce of Compassion until there is none left in this world."

The demoness chewed on her cheek, her violet pupiless eyes not masking disappointment. "You could do that, or…."

"Or…" the Nightmare echoed impatiently.

The demoness perched herself up on a pillow. "We approach a mortal and make a strike in the waking world."

Zelophehad cocked his head at the idea, a malevolent smile spreading on his inky lips. "I know just the one."

Not sure how nightmare comes in. Twists the dream. I'm not sure if I want to save the fear of Malcolm becoming an abuser like his father for later when Malcolm's deeper, because my other thoughts are this fade sequence might be dragging too long and I'm using up all my material in one go.

Either way. Malcolm is able to wake Isaac up.

Nightmare traps Malcolm, cornering him

Leandra's rosary protects him, allowing him to cry out for help

Compassion the real one comes to his aid on Leandra's behalf

Malcolm wakes up.

A tiny epilogue scene from Zelophehad's pov with Avarice taunting him