Daylight dwindled outside of the tower walls, though hardly noticeable within this old stone prison I once called home. Sconces had already been lit along the most active hallways in preparation for evening, and I had been summoned to my First Enchanter's quarters.

My hands touched the stone as I ascended to the third floor; a rough, cold surface my fingers had missed. I tried not to gaze upon the horrors that still clung to the ceiling in pulsing, flesh-white clusters. The Circle was far from repaired, though in time I had hope that it would return to bygone days of templars chasing down mage children and chattering apprentices. Now, it was as cold and still as the stone itself.

A few of the templars eyed me in prejudice as I passed, and I myself bared them no interest. Their petty grievances did not bother me, and nor would I care if they had dared raise a weapon again. Their hand would not make it halfway to their sword belt if I had anything to say about it.

Head held high and eyes ever-wary as I passed the templars' dormitory (momentarily glancing inside for a slight hope of seeing a head of red hair) I strode onward nearly to the staircase and took a sharp turn right into Irving's office.

Unexpectedly, I found him standing in the middle of the room with his hands behind his back. I hesitated, hostility entering my posture for a brief moment as I checked the room for other bodies - perhaps Greagoir as he awaited to spring at me from the shadows. When I was satisfied no one else crowded the room, I slowly walked inside and shut the door behind me.

"I trust you were greeted with the proper respect deserving of a Grey Warden?" he asked. I checked behind the door in case someone had decided to hide there, then turned my slightly-twitching ears back towards my former instructor.

"Indeed, it seems three months has not forgotten Cullen's habit of extensive courtesy," I offered a languid expression of amusement to my teacher, then adjourned to the chairs he had set out for us. It was strange that I should sit beside rather than across from someone I had considered my leader for so many years. He rested one elbow on the arm of his chair, then used his other hand to stroke the silver of his beard.

"Wynne tells me she plans to stay at the Circle to assist with teaching the remaining students," he inquired in a tone that sounded more like scolding than speculation. I dropped my eyes down momentarily, then settled more in my chair and crossed my legs.

"I figure the less people we have to look after, the less attention we will attract," I explained. "And perhaps a few less assassination attempts-" I started to add, then caught his surprised posture.

"Assassinations?" he leaned forward and widened his eyes. "Maker, have you been attacked?" he asked. I had thoughtlessly assumed he had heard of the news. I had to remind myself that outside of the tower, the land was vast and news traveled much slower than a few floors up to my teacher. After all, my problems were small in comparison to the repair of an entire Circle. Of course he hadn't heard. I tapped my foot a few times for measure and tried to shrug off the topic.

"A few times…" I admitted, my eyes turning to the desk as I ran a thumb across my chin. "We handled it." My memory drifted back to the forest outside Denerim, and ice filled my chest again as I remembered the cloaked mage. I could not make out his face, no matter how many times I tried in the fog of my brain. The scars on my arms still had not fully healed since the incident. My jaw tightened.

"Well, I suppose you have - considering you are here, unharmed," he agreed, then paused as if he had read my thoughts. He narrowed his gaze. "Are you all right?" his voice was pitched in the tone of a demanding parent, one of which I hardly ever had the right mind to refuse. It took all of my willpower to grit my teeth and lie to him.

"I'm fine, really," I assured him, then began to pick and straighten my robes in a fit of discomfort. He took this as closure to the conversation (despite the obvious dissatisfaction of my answer written on his face) and moved on, now seeking to find his chair behind the desk once more perhaps in an unconscious need to remind me of his authority.

"Well, obviously I hadn't called you here to simply chat about your health - though I am always interested to hear that you are doing well," he slowly made his way around the desk, placing a hand along the surface as he ambled along. I noticed it was considerably more empty than the last time I had sat in front of it. Perhaps he had restored the books I had sought so long ago? A curious thought.

"So what did you wish to talk about?" I picked back up once he had found a comfortable spot in his enormous leather seat and began to settle himself. He rested both arms on the desk and splayed his fingers together, looking down at me. The scornful, yet considering look he often bared made me feel small and inferior, and like so many years ago I was once again a child swallowed whole by the chair I sat in as my mentor willed sincerity from guilty lips.

"I was hoping you could tell me," he smiled in a betraying manner, his eyes narrowed in the slightest. I hadn't planned on returning to the tower so soon, but Irving was perhaps the only one with extensive knowledge on the matter. That, and the only other source of information from what was left of the enormous library on the second floor.

"We seek the Ashes of Andraste," I laid out the journey quite simply for him. Upon hearing this, he sat back and raised his eyebrows in earnest.

"Really?" he seemed surprised. "So it's true that Eamon has fallen ill in Redcliffe." I nodded, and again glanced back at the door out of habit to ensure no one was attempting to eavesdrop. It remained shut.

"We're gathering an army in hopes to eradicate the blight before it begins, but to do that we need his support-"

"Which I imagine would be very difficult if he were not awake to confer," he added with a dry chuckle, though it sounded bitter. He already grasped much of what was a growing problem for myself and the others in my group.

"I've already tracked down a source to Denerim, but it seems the owner of the information is somewhere in the mountains," I sighed in aggravation. We had made it all the way to Denerim, only to find out we would have to turn around again and head towards the Frostback Mountains. I only hoped the information we procured was not incorrect, and that his assistant wasn't leading us on a wild chase across Ferelden. I would personally break every limb on his body if that were the case.

"Is that where you intend to travel to next?" he asked me. Again, I nodded, then pressed my lips together in thought. As far as I had found, this was the only feasible option right now; however, if ever there were an alternative chance, Irving should know of it.

"If it is our only remaining option, then yes-" I looked up to him, my eyes hopeful. I could see him already working out the unspoken question, though as the seconds passed and I watched his forehead wrinkle, I already knew the answer. My heart fell.

"What has befallen Eamon is beyond the help of any mage's talents, including myself." he regrettably voiced the topic as something he had approached before. Irving was the first choice to go to for help as I'd learned, though I knew it was soon after discovered even he was not capable of curing Eamon. It must have frustrated him greatly.

"So a mythical urn of ashes is truly our only choice, then?" I sighed. He laughed then, a surprising reaction, and I tensed in my seat.

"Why sound so doubtful? Truly, you must first believe in the thing itself if you are to go out and find it," he lightly chided me, though I understood what he was trying to do. I admittedly had a harder time being optimistic at a grim time like this. "Otherwise you really are chasing a myth. That will get you nowhere."

"I apologize," I corrected myself. "It's been… difficult coping with this entire thing, I-" there was no real reason or way to put into words how I had felt since the beginning. Though I had yet to entirely give up, the pressure was beginning to weigh on me. I could feel myself growing weary with every day that followed another fruitless search. "I-I'm just not exactly adjusted yet to the idea of being a leader, I suppose," I finished with an embarrassed frown.

"And neither was I the day I became First Enchanter, but we must persevere nonetheless," he nodded to me, a fond smile stretching under the weight of his beard. "After all, there are people you must protect." My mind instantly shifted to Cullen, as bright-eyed and warm as I remembered - standing there in the entrance foyer like a little boy waiting for a present. I had barely contained myself upon arrival, and had yet to get the blasted man out of my head all day. Irving must have sensed my shift of mood - that or my sudden flushed expression must have given it away. Damn it all.

"He is very glad to see you, I must say," Irving read my mind like an open book, an all-knowing twinkle shining in his eyes. I flushed red and touched a thumb to my chin again, trying to suppress my budding embarrassment. "It's been a frightful long time since any of the templars smiled, especially him. I'm glad to know you could cheer him up, if only for a short while."

"Me too," my voice was small and timid when I replied. I felt awkward to have such a of conversation with Irving, though he spared me any further with a wave of his hand.

"Now, as far as I recall we may yet still have a few volumes on Andraste's Ashes somewhere in the library," he looked up at the walls in thought and tapped his finger to his beard. "Though I cannot remember where."

"That's all right," I piped up, suddenly eager to attach more reason to my library visit that would take place later on. "I would feel more reassured knowing I'd looked for it myself rather than be told someone else couldn't find it." He nodded in understanding and rested his arms on his chair.

"I would offer you more, though my memory is not as strong as it use to be and most of my thoughts now scatter amongst the parchment of my office," he chuckled. "I will have to gather them tonight and see if I might find something useful to bring along with you in the morning-" he paused and looked at me expectedly then.

"That is to say, you intend to stay for the night?" he inquired. I nodded.

"At the vexation of Greagoir, I suppose I will." He laughed in good nature and waved me off, standing alongside to escort me to the door.

"I suppose that is one way of putting it," he ushered me with a kind hand, then stopped at the doorway as I stepped out into the hallway. "Regardless of his personal feelings, you are still a Grey Warden deserving of every respect." He looked at me, then patted my shoulder as I turned to him to speak his final thoughts with a quiet smile.

"As long as I am here, always remember that you are welcome in this Circle, Isthalla," he told me, then nodded and left me to the empty stretch of hallway. My chest swelled up for a brief moment after the door shut, then dissipated as I forced my emotions back down. Even after all this time, to hear Irving regard me as one of his own - I couldn't quite grasp my own feelings for it. Grief swelled, followed by relief. Then guilt. I breathed deep and set off down the hallway towards the second floor to rid myself of it all.

It would be a few hours before I expected my templar to hopefully uphold his promise, but I arrived at the library before sunset nonetheless in search of the volumes Irving spoke of. It briefly occurred to me that Zevran had wandered off in the direction of the same library when we had arrived, though upon entry it seemed barren other than littered books and used candles still stacked upon tables long absent of their users. I traipsed up the isles and scanned them in hopes I might come across my assassin, but he was nowhere to be found. Shrugging, I turned my attention back to the shelves and began my search.

"I suppose we should start alphabetically then?" I sighed, though by the looks of it the templars had done a very poor job of returning the novels to their proper places. "Maker, they can't do anything right, can they?" I shook my head and removed a handful of misplaced items and set them on a nearby table. I might find a book about the ashes by the next century, with extensive luck and a lot of patience.

"This might take a while."