Three short, sharp knocks on his door woke Niall, although his head pounded like he hadn't slept in months. For a brief moment terror gripped him until he released that templars do not knock. So, with no lamplight in the room and the sun not yet up, he shuffled across to the door in the dark and whispered,

"Who is it?"

"It's Divine Beatrix the Third," came the response and Niall inched open the door to reveal his co-conspirator standing in the corridor with a grin across his face so wide it was almost scary.

"I got your note," Anders said in a giddy whisper and the weight of the night before hit Niall like an anvil had been dropped on him. The ashen terror of his expression caused Anders' brow to furrow,

"You haven't changed your mind?"

Niall shook his head. He might be terrified but there was no going back, he knew that, so it was pointless to agonise over a decision that wasn't really his to begin with. Irving had forced his hand, or maybe it was Uldred's fault, or Jowan's somehow, it really didn't matter now anyway.

Anders' grin returned.

"Then I guess I should let you know my plan then."

"I guess you should."

"Might want to get changed though," Anders looked him up and down, "Can't risk you drawing any attention today, even if it's just Leorah dragging you to the laundry room." Niall looked down, his robe was creased and the sleeve must have somehow fallen into his inkwell last night. Niall felt a pang of sadness at having to change, it meant the robe he left the tower in wouldn't his favourite one he practically lived in – yet another part of himself he would be leaving behind. He mentally shook himself, what a ridiculous thing to get sentimental about.

They agreed to meet for breakfast and Anders left him to change. Only when he shut the door again did he notice the note on the floor. He recognised it as the same paper his invite to Uldred's leaving party have been written on. He made the decision not to read it, whatever it said, it wouldn't matter to him now. How ironic, he laughed darkly to himself as he stepped over the folded paper, if only I'd done this with that first note, I wouldn't be in this situation at all.

-o0o-

After breakfast, they made their way to the secluded cavern, the same one they'd brewed the spirt balms in, and where now Anders relayed the details of his plan to Niall. He had promised himself he wouldn't ask too many questions but couldn't help it, although they were less like questions and more like a gibbering list of everything he could think of that could go wrong. The more he asked though, the clearer it was that Anders wasn't on a suicide mission. Every step had been planned with a meticulousness that seemed uncharacteristic of Anders somehow, it felt more like what he would have expected from someone like Torrin.

Niall nodded and listened and tried to force himself into some awareness about what they were about to do, only his mind wouldn't let him. He felt outside himself, unable to fully acknowledge what was happening, that tomorrow he would either be a free man or a dead man, both options equally impossible to conceptualise after a lifetime in captivity. No matter how confident Anders seemed in all his answers to Niall's half-hysterical half-formed questions about the plan, his mind refused to ground him in the reality of his situation, refused to let dissociation give way to hope because somehow hoping felt more dangerous than the attempt itself.

Anders' contact would only be at the docks after nightfall, so they'd take the passage there at sundown, the entrance to which Anders informed him was hidden deeper inside this very cavern.

The hours in between passed slowly enough to make the day feel unending. Anders swung between chattering hyperactively and an uncharacteristic quietness that was far too still. By late afternoon, Anders had come and gone a dozen times, gathering supplies and making the final preparations for the culmination of this plan it was becoming clearer and clearer he had spent the last few years obsessing over. Niall had spent the whole day glued to the cavern wall, frozen in place by everything he was willing himself not to think about. Fear of dying, of course, but guilt too over everyone he was abandoning. He found himself wondering what Keili would think of him. She'd quickly become one of his favourite students and she'd come so far with trying to accept her magic. And he'd helped her too, he might not be a natural teacher but Niall knew he had managed to help her, she'd been so terrified of her own magic. Would all that be undone once she knew he'd abandoned her. She was still young and the self-hating mages made such pliant targets for the worst of the templars.

"Are you planning to say goodbye?"

Anders' question wrenched Niall from his thoughts.

"Oh erm, no. I don't think I could do that – in person, I mean. I left them notes. Letters. I said goodbye in those."

Anders eyes went wide,

"What? What if they try to stop you?"

"They won't," Niall's voice cracked, "I mean, they won't have found them yet."

"Niall," Anders said severely, "Where are the notes?"

"On the desk in my room."

Anders took a deep breath,

"Niall, you've left a signed confession laying upstairs."

"They won't find it, until we're gone." Even as he spoke, he couldn't summon any conviction as he realised how little he'd thought the notes through. How little he'd thought any of it through. He felt sick.

"You've got to go and grab them. We're not leaving for hours yet, that's hours for them to wonder where you've been all day and go looking for you."

Niall shook his head,

"No! No – what if we go back up there and -, what if I can't."

"Can't what?"

"What if I can't make myself leave again. We might bump into someone, Petra, Torrin, and what if I-"

"Oh Maker's breath give me strength, Niall get a hold of yourself." The words could have been playful and from Anders, on any other day, they would have been. Now though, his eyes were cold and it looked as though he was holding himself back from hitting Niall just to stop him becoming hysterical. "If you're doing this with me, you can't hesitate, okay? You can't half-attempt to escape the tower. You can't be half an apostate. You commit fully to this or you will die, you understand that don't you?"

Even though the situation warranted it, it was still jarring to hear the other man so stern. Niall nodded.

"You have to go get those letters. I'd go, but me sneaking into your room would draw attention."

"Come with me?"

Anders shook his head, claiming he needed to stay with their supplies.

Alone, Niall emerged from cavern. Seeing the inside of the tower felt utterly surreal, yet somehow also anticlimactic. The same books and shelves, desks, and the same number of mages rushing around, studying, practicing their spells – Niall felt like a spirit, moving amongst it all, there but not really there. Then,

"There you are, Niall!" a woman Niall faintly recognised beckoned him from across the room. He tensed at the sound of his name, trying to reassure himself she doesn't know anything, no one does, just act normal.

"Hello," he said sheepishly as she made her way over to him. There was something odd in her expression, something almost manic.

"I was starting to think you weren't coming."

"Coming where?"

Her expression changed to one of confusion.

"You didn't get my note?"

Niall shook his head. He'd completely forgotten about the note he'd ignored that morning.

The woman grabbed hold of Niall's arm, and pulled him through to an empty classroom next door. Once the door was shut behind them, the woman leaned in conspiratorially and in a giddy whisper said,

"He's coming back. Tonight. Uldred's coming back, and with the Teryn's backing, we're going to take the Tower."

All he could do was stare at her. A coup – Uldred was actually going to do it? There'd be no need to run from Irving if my nightfall he would no longer be the First Enchanter.

Then, another woman burst into the room.

"We've just had word – Uldred is a half hour away. He's sent word to Irving to get ready for a Harrowing tonight. So our First Enchanter should be preparing the lyrium as we speak."

The first woman was looked wild-eyed with excitement.

"And the apprentice is ready?"

"She is."

"Then we'd better get into position."

They both seemed to have forgotten Niall was there, until, and as they started to hurry out the door, the first woman beckoned to him,

"Are you coming?"

And Niall had a spilt second to decide who to become - an apostate or a rebel?