CHAPTER 13

..x..

Blackness clung greedily to the damp walls of the underground tunnel. Trickles and drips echoed from all around, joining with the sound of their careful footsteps as their feet splashed over small puddles on their path. Everil led the party through the narrow passage, a torch they found at the entrance held securely in one hand. But the flame could only reach so far and none of them would dare guess what lay past the shadowy parts thanks to whatever currently occupied Redcliffe Castle. It seemed the place was intended as an emergency exit, much like the one they used to escape when Highever Castle fell. Though, it seemed this one was hardly cared for, with nothing to give them any idea how far they had before reaching their destination.

Disembodied moans then drifted through the hallway, the hunger in them sending shivers down their spines.

"Sounds like they're waiting for us... How nice of them..." Alistair muttered with a sardonic smile, trekking just a few steps behind his fellow Warden.

"Maker… I still can't believe a demon could be responsible for all this." Leliana was anxiously looking at the back of their heads as she followed. "It must be powerful if it was capable of causing so much death in such a short time. How can we even stop something like that?"

"I have no idea. But we will figure it out as we go along," Everil answered, attempting to hide the twinge of fear currently clutching her heart. They didn't know what they were walking into and she hated being blind.

"No!" A terrified male scream was then heard, sounding relatively close to where they were. The party exchanged quick glances and broke into a run, quickly crossing what remained of the tunnel until they stumbled into a wooden door. Everil burst through, emerging in what appeared to be an underground prison. Torches burned along the way, allowing them to see the cages hanging from the ceiling. Then, further down, they saw the corpses currently attempting to break into one of the cells.

Drawing her weapon, Everil tossed the torch and looked to her hound. "Get them, boy!"

And he charged, darting forward on powerful strides before pouncing on one of their enemies and reaping out its throat. Leliana fired an arrow, taking out another, while Alistair and Everil slashed through the remaining two. They stared down at the bodies, seeing bone sticking through rotten flesh. These were in a more advanced state of decomposition than the ones they fought back in the village, which of course meant that they must have been some of the first to die.

Shaken and shivering, the man from within the cell stepped towards the bars, fearfully taking hold of them with both hands. He was young, perhaps a couple of years older than them. With long black hair, pale skin, and haunted blue eyes. Bruises covered his once fair face, dried blood clinging to a busted lip as dirt and grime stained the rest of his features. "Y-You're living people! Did Lady Isolde send you?"

Everil put away her weapons, promptly taking notice of his blue robes. They were the same as those worn by the mages in Ostagar, though his were torn in places and covered in soil. "In a way…" She approached him, cautiously looking him over. "Who are you? Are you the mage who caused all this?"

"My name is Jowan... And as you said, I am a mage. But while I know this looks bad, I'm not responsible for the corpses walking the castle." He held a pleading stare. "Please… you have to believe me."

She skeptically crossed her arms, recalling the words said to them by the arlessa. "You will have to do better than that to convince me. Now, tell me... Who ordered you to poison the arl? Or are you innocent of that too?"

"No, I…" He visibly gulped, his gaze shamefully dropping to the floor at the accusation. "I was ordered to kill the arl by Teyrn Loghain..."

"What?" Alistair breathed angrily, taking a step towards the cell. "That bastard…! Why did he order you to do that?"

"He… He only said I would be doing it for the good of Ferelden. Nothing more." Jowan anxiously fiddled with his fingers, trying to avoid their judging glares. "You see, I'm a blood mage running from the Circle. I… I knew it was wrong to dabble in forbidden magic so I wanted to atone for what I did by serving my country. The teyrn said he would help save me from the Templars and that I would be able to walk free after accomplishing my mission." He released a tired breath. "But he left me here, didn't he? How foolish of me…"

Everil took a moment to run his words through her head. If Eamon were to die, then Loghain would truly remain unchallenged for the throne. Which served as yet more proof that he wanted the crown for himself. But why?

"A blood mage... That's a crime punishable by death," said Alistair, crossing his arms as he sent the mage a dirty look. "Using blood enhances their magical abilities—many times more than lyrium—to the point where they can even summon and control a demon. I wouldn't be surprised if he's lying about the one that took over the castle."

Jowan's frightened eyes shifted to him as he gripped his cell bars once more. "I admit to poisoning the arl, but I didn't summon anything! I swear! If there were anyone I think could possibly do this, it would be Connor. He may have accidentally torn the veil—the fabric between our world and the Fade. That's probably how the demon got through."

He scoffed. "How could Connor tear the veil? He's not a mage."

The mage sighed miserably and shook his head.

"Wait… He is, isn't he?" Alistair whispered in astonishment.

Jowan dipped his head, remorse etched upon him. "That's how I was able to get into the castle. Lady Isolde was looking for an apostate who could mentor her son. Someone who could teach him just enough to hide his magical abilities. She didn't want anyone to know… not even Arl Eamon."

"Why not tell the arl?" Everil questioned, knitting her brows.

"Because he would have done the right thing. He would have sent Connor away to the Circle of Magi, which means Connor would be stripped of his title… as well as his freedom." Jowan looked down at his hands, fingers anxiously interlacing. "Lady Isolde is also a pious woman, so having a mage for a child was humiliating to her. She simply could not allow anyone to know she had birthed a mage."

Everil searched him for signs of deceit but found none. Instead, she could tell he was afraid and that he regretted what he did. He was also cooperating by answering their questions, and if he were really as much of a threat as Isolde claimed, then he probably would have escaped on his own by now. "All right… I believe you. But I have a feeling that what you did to the arl is somehow connected with all that has happened here. How will you atone for that?"

The mage regarded her, meeting her sharp stare with hope. "I know I did something terrible. Please, if you let me out, I will do anything I can to make things right."

Alistair shook his head at her, his expression one of disapproval. "No, don't. This man is still a blood mage and blood mages are incredibly dangerous if left roaming around." He faced him with an angry scowl. "Not to mention he poisoned the arl. At this point, I don't think he even deserves the air he's breathing, let alone his freedom."

Leliana sent the Warden a saddened look. "He admits he made a mistake and wants to help. I believe everyone deserves a second chance."

"But we would be risking too much. We already have to deal with whatever it is that's taken over the castle," Alistair insisted. "Which, by the way, could still be his damn fault."

Everil turned solemnly to her companions. "As much as I dislike the idea of letting him out of the cell, his help might come in handy. He knows about the magic at work here. We can use that knowledge against it."

Jowan pressed his forehead to the cell, wincing as he the cold metal touched the cuts on his face. "If you let me out, I will not be able to follow you directly. I am in no condition to fight after the torture Lady Isolde put me through. But I promise to help as much as I can from afar. I can look for survivors too. Even help against that demon somehow."

She nodded, then regarded her friend with an apologetic gaze. "Alistair… I know you're angry about the arl, but you'll just have to trust me on this one."

He pressed his lips into a tense line and breathed in deeply through the nose before shaking his head. It was obvious he hated the idea, but he still tried to reason with himself. She would not willingly put them in danger if she had a choice, and right now, they needed all the help they could get. "Fine…" he reluctantly agreed, then pinned the mage with a suspicious glare. "But if he gives me even the slightest indication that he'll turn on us, I'll run him through myself."

"I understand..." Everil uttered, acknowledging the edge in his voice. She pulled out the lock picks from her pocket and reached for the cage to pick at the lock. "You heard him. Try not to do anything stupid."

The mage gave them a grateful, yet weak smile. "I-I won't... You have my word."

.x.x.x.x.

After the group left Jowan to collect himself, they continued on, following the dimly lit corridors. They went through the eerily silent dungeon until they reached a long set of spiral stairs that brought them up to the next floor. Alistair opened a door, allowing them entrance to what appeared to be the soldiers' quarters while guiding them through the place he once called home. The stench of decay hit them as they made their way through another hallway, passing by rooms filled with empty bunk beds. Their steps resonated in the desolate spaces as they walked over the dark crimson marks covering the stone floor.

"So… empty. I half expected more of those things would be here…" Everil uttered uncomfortably, whispering out of fear of drawing something's attention.

"My guess is most of the servants were in the village when all of this began and that we took out a large portion of corpses when they attacked last night…" said Alistair, his voice just as quiet. "Though, don't take my word for it. With our luck, they're probably waiting in one of the rooms, getting ready to throw us a surprise party."

Leliana shuddered at the thought. "Don't jinx us!"

He glanced over the shoulder, grinning at her. "What's that? Is our fearless sister scared now?"

"I used to be a traveling minstrel in Orlais… I sang songs about cursed castles such as these." She pursed her lips at him. "Let's just say that living those tales is something else entirely."

Everil sent her a curious look. "You were a minstrel?"

"Yes... I used to serve a noble lady when I was very young, so I was taught such arts to entertain her." Leliana clasped her hands behind her back, smiling a little. "Later on, after I left, I began to use my talents to earn some coin. Until I ended up here in Ferelden."

Alistair arched a brow. "Were you born in Orlais then?"

She shook her head. "No. My mother was Fereldan. She used to be a handmaid to Lady Cecile during the Orlesian occupation. After Orlais was defeated and everyone began to resent the presence of every Orlesian, Lady Cecile took my mother with her back to her home country. After my mother died, I had nowhere else to go. So the lady took me in and let me serve her in exchange for a roof over my head and warm meals. I lived most of my life there, but I always wondered what it would be like to visit my mother's homeland."

"I see…" he said with sympathy. "I'm sorry about your mother."

"Thank you… It has been many years, but I can still remember glimpses of her. Especially when I smell Fereldan wildflowers during spring. They were her favorite."

"Hmm…" Everil hummed with a smirk. "You know… I heard minstrels and bards in Orlais tend to do much more than simply sing of old legends. Which would explain why you're so good with those daggers and that bow."

A giggle escaped the former nun, a twinkle in her eye. "Well, I did say I used to travel… One picks up different skills during one's journeys, no?"

"I suppose so…" She returned her stare to the hallway ahead as they turned a corner, still not completely convinced by the woman's apparent innocence. People with the talents she spoke of were often used by Orlesian nobles to spy on political rivals and sometimes even eliminate their enemies. The politics in the Empire were very intricate and filled with deceit and intrigue, so much so the locals even called it The Game. The players were often powerful people seeking to gain an edge or the favor of the Empress, all the while using any tool at their disposal to hurt their adversaries, either via tarnishing their reputations or by assassination. She couldn't tell for certain, but if Leliana had indeed been involved in such things, at least she was on their side now.

Distant barking then reached their ears as they moved in the direction of the kennels, making them halt. Everil furrowed her brows, reaching for her sword before resuming her steps. Slower, more cautious.

"Undead dogs…?" Leliana ventured quietly.

Alistair gave a nervous laugh as he drew his blade. "Now, that would totally be a great addition to my nightmares."

The sound was louder the closer they were to the source, accompanied by vicious growls and the tearing of flesh from bone. The acrid, coppery stench of blood sharpened as more crimson covered the hallway, their eyes landing on a grisly sight before them. Severed arms were mauled almost to the bone while feet and hands were half-eaten. Unrecognizable chunks of meat left a trail of gore, which they followed on hesitant steps. They held onto their weapons as their narrowed stares focused towards the end of their path, a flickering torch casting shadows against the walls.

All the growling and barking stopped when they neared the corner and Everil edged out, seeing more carnage. Bodies had been turned into nothing but masses of flesh, the bones glistening under the faint light as red ribbons dangled from them, having been chewed to shreds. And over the corpses, three mabari hounds covered in blood were staring back at her.

"Shit…!" she breathed, backing away.

They attacked, their heavy bodies heading swiftly towards her. One pounced, only to be viciously tackled by Bjorn as he snapped and bit at its neck. The next two came after, darting forth with maws open and crazed eyes.

"What the…!" Alistair barely had enough time to use his armored arm to block the sharp set of teeth that came at him, the dog desperately trying to chew through. He then slashed at it with his blade, cutting open its face and forcing it off of him. But it only got angrier. It used its weight, ramming him like a bull and easily throwing him to the ground. He clenched his teeth as he held his arm against the hound's neck, keeping it from biting at his face as it barked and snarled at him. "What in the Maker's name is wrong with them!"

"Get off him!" Leliana called as she promptly fired an arrow from the back, hitting the hound in the head. It snarled at her, hopped off the Grey Warden and hurried after her, its the injury doing nothing to slow it down. She let out a cry and fired again, just in time to keep it from jumping towards her. It landed with a yelp and began to writhe in agony, the arrow protruding from one eye.

Meanwhile, Everil had grabbed the nearby torch and was keeping the third at bay as her mabari continued to battle the first. The hound yelped when she burned its snapping jaws, but it kept coming. It tried to push through the fire, maws open wide before biting down on the flaming wood. She screamed in fright at the unexpected move, its strength almost pulling her to the floor. Her sword came swinging, slashing at it in an attempt to get it to back off. But the hound held on, tearing the makeshift weapon out of her hand and dropping it before swiftly bolting at her. Her leg came quick, kicking the side of its head and stopping its advance. And then her blade found its side, piercing through its massive torso as it released a pitiful whine.

Covered in a few bitemarks himself, Bjorn kept fighting the last one, growling in rage as they bit and snapped at each other like two wild beasts. The other hound tried to dominate him, biting on the back of his neck, but it couldn't make him fall. He pulled back, tearing himself away from it before promptly chomping onto the side of its throat and using his front legs to knock it down, pinning it to the floor with his superior might. And then he clamped down, tearing through fur and muscle as the hound beneath him yelped. He kept at it, biting and violently shaking its life out of it. Until his enemy was no longer moving.

"Bjorn!" Everil ran up to him with concern, reaching for him upon seeing the bite marks over him. "Are you all right, boy?"

He barked, panting happily at her as if the injuries meant nothing.

A sigh escaped her as she inspected him, gently running her hands over his fur. Thankfully most of the red was not his and he only carried a few scratches. "Good work, boy..." She glanced at the dead hounds. "They weren't undead… Why did they attack like that?"

Alistair sheathed his sword, gazing sadly at the dogs. "They say animals are sensitive to demonic influence... Maybe the presence here drove them mad."

"Poor puppies…" Leliana muttered.

Everil shook her head and rose to her feet. "Come on… We should keep moving."

Eventually, they reached more stairs at the end of the hall and climbed, heading to the service wing and into the soldiers' dining area. The next level appeared just as deserted. They encountered more empty rooms and bloodied floors, but there were no bodies in sight. Torches illuminated the simple decor in the narrow passage. Portraits were hung along the walls, some displaying quiet Fereldan landscapes while small tables stood under them, with vases holding flowers left to dry.

"Does this place bring you any memories, Alistair? I mean… in spite of the blood and… everything else." Everil asked as they passed by the soldiers' dining hall, the source of light now the windows that lay open by the rows of tables.

"A few… I used to come down here during the times when the arl was too busy for my lectures. I would get bored easily on my own, so the servants were sort of my only friends."

"That sounds rather sad," Leliana uttered quietly from beside him.

"Nah. It wasn't too bad. Some of the maids used to sneak me treats or make toys for me to play with." He chuckled a little. "I remember one of them used to carve tiny wooden soldiers for me. All I had to do was ask and she would return from the village with a few new ones every time."

Everil gave him a sad look. "It's a shame you have to see the castle like this…"

He sighed. "Yeah… I just hope most of them made it out. Though by what we've seen, it seems the arl's soldiers were the ones who got hit the worst."

A distant clatter caused the three of them to stop in their tracks and hold their breaths as they tried to listen.

"I think that came from the kitchen…" Alistair whispered, reaching for his blade. "Heh… Which also happens to be the same way we're headed. What are the odds?"

"You just had to jinx us…" Leliana muttered, pulling her daggers.

He led them further down, walking carefully until they stopped at another door. Shuffling could be heard coming from the other side, followed by groans and the screech of blades dragging over the floor. Alistair nodded to his companions and reached for the handle, before slowly pushing it open to see into an adjacent room and through a wide archway that led into the kitchen. As expected, more of the undead were crowding it, thankfully far enough from where they stood that they couldn't yet detect their presence. The creatures were shambling by in a mindless quest for their next meal as their rotting hands barely held on to their weapons. They were clad in armor like the ones they fought the night before, some stumbling over toppled iron kitchenware or spoiling fruit that had been knocked onto the ground.

"I say we charge…" Everil said with a smirk.

"On three?" Leliana smiled.

Alistair nodded. "One… Two… Three!"

They burst through and charged, surprising the creatures that barely had enough time to spin about to face them. The rogue and both Grey Wardens cut them down, easily dispatching them and leaving not one standing. With the area clear of enemies, Alistair led them to the back, heading for another door. "This way."

Finally, they reached the castle's first floor, stepping into what appeared to be a storeroom stocked with barrels of wine and food crates—all possibly meant to feed the arl's men. They made for the gate on the other side, walking through it and finding themselves in the castle's courtyard. Their boots crunched over the dirt as they observed their surroundings, seeing nothing but stillness. Not even the grass dared move, seemingly frozen in place and only swaying when their hound sniffled it with a soft whine. The air around them was as cold as a winter's night. As if death were looming over them, whispering in their ears while running icy fingers down their spines.

Everil's pulse raced, her instincts screaming at her not to continue. To run away from this unknown being whose presence bled into the stone itself. But she reigned in the nerves and kept walking, crossing the distance to the steps leading up to the castle's main entrance. She and her companions gazed up at the massive doors from below, the sound of a laughing child drifting to their ears from within. It should have been an innocent melody, and yet there was a menacing tune behind it. A dark undertone that caused them to briefly hesitate to climb.

"Connor… Has to be," Alistair said with unease.

"Maker… " Leliana whispered, swallowing.

"All right…" Taking a breath, Everil steeled herself and spoke. "Let's go."

She led the way up the steps, following the ominous cackle against her better judgment. Slowly, they opened the gates and entered the arl's great hall, which was lined with a row of columns on each side as torches burned over each one.

A young boy laughed maniacally before the grand fireplace at the far end of the room, surrounded by bloodied, inanimate corpses and lavish Fereldan decor. His ruffled, brown hair gave him a more crazed appearance as his pale face twisted into a wicked grin. A fine brown tunic covered his small body, patched with dark red stains that matched the color of the once fine carper over which he stood.

Bann Teagan was performing tricks, flipping, and dancing before his nephew, who clapped excitedly at the show. While Isolde was hunched over beside her son, guilt-ridden and helplessness while watching her brother in law ridicule himself for his audience. And although the fire burning behind the family was meant to provide warmth to the entire chamber, there was nothing but a chill in the room.

Whatever was controlling the cast of this sinister play was deeply enjoying itself.

In spite of the hint of fear she felt, Everil calmly walked towards the bann, stopping just steps from him. Alistair, Leliana, and her hound followed her, each of them with nervous stares. "Bann Teagan?" she cautiously called.

He spun to her and laughed hysterically, startling both Wardens and their companion. Then he whirled about and ran, bouncing excitedly before sitting like a dog next to the one he'd been bizarrely entertaining.

Seeing the newcomers, Connor's laughter sharply stopped before his dark stare fell solely upon Everil. His childish voice carried with it a second, deeper one with each word he spoke. A voice that was not human. "So you're the one who has been meddling in my affairs…"

"Maker…" Alistair breathed in both horror and disbelief. "He's possessed… He really is the one doing all of this."

"What is it, Mother?" the boy asked, frustratingly rubbing his eyes. "I can't see it clearly."

Isolde turned to him, shoulders sunken as if she were ready to fall apart. "She is... a woman, Connor. Like me."

"Hmph…" His gaze narrowed as if attempting to focus on the Grey Warden's features. Then a smirk split his face as he gestured to her. "She's nothing like you, Mother. Just look at her! Half your age, and pretty too! I'm surprised you don't just order her executed in a fit of jealousy!"

"Please, Connor…" Isolde begged miserably. "Please don't hurt anyone…"

"Quiet!" He snapped, causing the arlessa to back away from him in fear. His irritated stare then returned to the Warden. "That village was mine, woman. How dare you take it away from me!"

Everil regarded him with a fearless glare, unfazed by him. "What do you want, demon? How could you do this to a child?"

"I ask the questions around here, woman! Why are you interfering? None of this has anything to do with you!"

"I don't bloody care," she replied without hesitation. "What you're doing ends here. I came to stop you!"

"No!" Connor furiously shook his head and stomped the ground. "You can't stop me! I want you to leave my playground! Leave me to my fun!"

"Fun…?" Everil echoed in almost a whisper, eyes growing wide. "You found it fun?" His words caused anger to quickly rise within her as her fists closed so tightly they shook. How dare it? How dare it speak so carelessly about what it did? It had torn apart so many innocents without mercy. Destroyed entire families by taking away their loved ones. People who only sought to live their lives in peace. While it also killed and used the men who were meant to protect them, unleashing their rotting corpses against them as if they were nothing but pawns in its little game.

She could still hear the wails of the children and the women in the Chantry. Could still see the fear in the villagers as they stood valiantly to protect the few left alive. Could still see the faces of the creatures that were once faithful soldiers. And this thing… This demon was to blame for all their suffering!

"No..." She drew her blade, steel in her icy blues. "I won't let you continue to hold Redcliffe hostage. Even if I must kill the child to set them free!"

"Everil?" Alistair called in disbelief, stunned by how easily she pulled her weapon. Next to him, Leliana eyed her with the same scrutiny, shock etched over her features.

"No, please!" Isolde threw herself between her son and the Grey Warden, arms spreading to shield him. "Please, Warden! He does not know what he does! He's just a boy!"

"Rubbish! You didn't see the fear and the suffering on their faces! Didn't hear their agonizing cries for their dead! This creature nearly wiped out your entire village and you didn't do a damn thing to stop it!" she countered angrily before taking a decisive step towards her. "That thing is no longer your son... Now, move aside!"

Connor cackled, then threw his head back in an insane fit of laughter, drawing everyone's stares back to him. "You would kill a child to get to me? How refreshing!"

His mirth continued as his arms extended, his eyes glowing red as the evil voice within him began to chant in a foreign tongue, joining with the child's evil laugh. The soldiers around them rose from their death, picking up their weapons and turning towards the party. A ghastly moan escaped their dried out throats, hungry for their flesh as they took a shambling step to them, preparing their weapons.

The boy laughed again, the demon in him roaring louder as if in a fearsome battle cry.

Rising from the floor, Teagan drew his sword, the smile from before replaced by pure rage. He charged at Everil, forcing her to block, the hit driving her several steps away from her intended target. He swung at her again, eyes reflecting nothing but madness.

"Damn it!" She ducked, avoiding a sideways slash, then kicked his feet from under him.

With a grunt, Alistair brought up his shield and blocked a hit from one of the dead soldiers, recognizing them from their brief encounter before the bann was taken into the castle. He easily drove its weapon away and struck, splitting the plating bearing Redcliffe's coat of arms. His blade thrust forth, stabbing through its chest before kicking it and sending it to the ground. But the body didn't stay down. It slowly pushed itself up once more, knees shaking before swinging at him again.

Leliana leaned sideways, dodging a clumsy downward slash, only to bury her double daggers into the enemy. She stabbed lit deep, then in a scissor motion, cut its head off its body. Meanwhile, Bjorn growled and jumped behind one of the corpses, biting at its neck as it tried to pry him off. The hound's chops closed all the way, breaking its spine before it plummeted face down.

"Wake up, Bann Teagan!" Everil cried out as she deflected another attack. She was trying not to hurt the man currently being controlled by his nephew, but no matter how much she yelled, there was no reaction. Biting her lip, she blocked his sword at an angle, moving as it hit and causing him to lose his balance. A swift kick to the back knocked him headfirst into a decorative piece of armor and out of her way. With a cry, she dashed, boots hitting the ground as she aimed for the demon once more. Lady Isolde fearfully stepped between them, only to be unceremoniously shoved aside by the possessed child. She fell on a heap on the floor and watched in horror as her son taunted the Grey Warden.

"Come!" Connor shouted, the voice inside roaring viciously. A sadistic sneer contorted his face, turning it from innocent to monstrous. "Kill me, woman!" it screeched as black claws erupted from small fingertips with a sickening tear, shooting blood as they stretched like knives.

Everil cried out and swung her sword, but the child blocked with one of his talons. He wielded the strength of that of a beast inside that feeble body, causing her arms to shake as she tried to overpower him. She gritted her teeth under the strain. "Damn you…!"

"You won't dare touch me, girl!" The demon's voice surged through the child's mouth as it summoned all its strength. An invisible force struck her, sending her flying several feet until her body slammed against one of the pillars in the room, causing her to drop her weapon and crumble to the ground.

Alistair made to help her, but an armored arm wrapped around his neck and kept him in place. He struggled, turning his head just enough to see who it was. "Teagan! Let go of me!" But the bann said nothing, his hold tightening to the point where it was hard for him to breathe.

Leliana was thrown down by some of the remaining undead as they pinned her with their bodies, keeping her from interfering. The hound was also held by more corpses, snarling and barking madly as he tried to use his strength to push them off.

With a weak groan, Everil slowly pushed herself up to her knees, lungs burning from having had the air forced out of them. She blinked the dizziness away just in time to see the possessed child closing in with inhuman speed. He swiped at her. She moved at the last second, grabbing Elethea while rolling onto her feet. Then she backed away, drawing her dagger as he came after her, striking in a crazed frenzy.

"Die! Die!" the demon in him roared, laughing madly. "Your soul will too be mine!"

The Warden clenched her jaw as she struggled to block every hit, her blades resonating with the sheer force of his attacks. I have to find a weakness... An opening!

In one brief moment, the boy stopped mid-swing, stumbling on his feet as if the creature's hold on him had slipped. Everil took the chance. She tackled him, knocking him onto his back.

"No!" Isolde screamed.

The Grey Warden knelt over him and swiftly dropped her dagger, letting it clatter to the ground beside them. Both hands gripped the hilt of her blade as she aimed the point to his heart. And then she raised her sword, letting out a vicious cry of her own.

"Everil! Stop!"

Alistair's voice made her freeze mid-thrust, clearing the haze of rage blocking her vision as her stunned gaze fell over the little boy's face. Connor was gazing up at her as if she herself was the monster, tears spilling out of him as he sobbed and quivered beneath her. There was no demon in those eyes. Only pure, unadulterated fear. A fear that brought the image of her dying nephew rushing into her mind, stabbing at her heart with both guilt and unbearable grief. In her misery and shame, her arms went weak along with her resolve and she slowly lowered the weapon, arms going limp at her sides.

A wicked look flashed over the child's face. "I knew you couldn't do it…"

Everil's eyes went wide. "What—!"

He took her dagger and slashed at her unguarded form, spraying crimson over the stone floor.

Horror fell over Alistair's features as he watched helplessly, Teagan keeping him bound a distance behind his fellow Warden. Seeing only her back and the blood on the ground while the rest was kept from his view.

The demon child effortlessly shoved her off and lifted himself up. He gazed upon Everil's shocked expression as she lay on her knees before him. "Mother… You are now nearly as beautiful as she," he mocked, still wielding the dripping dagger. Then a wicked sneer distorted his face. "Allow me to correct that... I will execute her for you."

"Connor, please… Don't do this..." Isolde pleaded tearfully.

But he raised the weapon and swung, ready to end the Warden's life.

Everil reacted, striking at his attack with her sword while springing to her feet. She deflected the dagger away and out of his reach, taking him by surprise. Her hand flew, backhanding him across the face, the force sending him to the ground. His temple bounced off the floor and as his eyes rolled up into his head.

Standing tall, she cooly looked upon him, ignoring the blood streaming freely down the right side of her face and from the bridge of her nose. Her sharp gaze then shifted to the arlessa, who could only stare back in fear. "What are you waiting for? Bind him before he wakes."

Isolde nodded shakily and rushed to her son's side, rolling his unconscious form onto his back. Meanwhile, the remaining corpses dropped to the floor in a domino effect, this time dead for good.

"W-What?" Teagan slowly let go of the younger man, bewildered and confused.

'Everil!" Alistair didn't stop to explain, rushing to her side as she sheathed her weapons. "Are you—" The words died in his throat when she spun to face him, allowing him to clearly see the deep gash that now lay across her face. It bled profusely, the red dripping from her chin and staining the griffons on her silver breastplate. He swallowed, unable to speak. There was no way that wouldn't leave a scar.

A relieved Leliana walked up to her, holding a torn piece of cloth in her hand. She brought it up to her injury, kindness in her smile. "Here… You're making a mess."

Everil licked the blood from her lips as she took it. "Thank you."

The bann approached them, regarding her mournfully. "I am sorry… I couldn't—"

"I'm fine," she assured him, raising a hand to halt him. "You should help Lady Isolde. Connor will not be out for long."

"Oh… O-Of course..." Teagan's stammered, unsure of what else to do or say as he awkwardly stepped around them. He approached his family and knelt to help the woman currently cradling her son.

.x.x.x.x.

The group later gathered in the boy's room after having bound him to his bed, using a rope to keep his wrists and ankles tied to the bedposts. It was a normal kid's chamber. Lined wall to wall with shelves in which fairytale books were neatly organized, along with a few toys. The floor was littered with more of them, all handcrafted wooden figures or straw-stuffed animals. At first glance, none would think the child lying asleep was anything but normal. But every single one of them knew better. They had to move quickly.

"What do we do now?" Teagan asked worriedly while standing next to Isolde by Connor's bed.

"Alistair," Everil regarded the former Templar beside her, still pressing the bloodied rag to her wound. "We're dealing with a possessed mage here. Do you have any suggestions?"

He crossed his arms, thinking back on what he was taught. "As far as I know… The only way to defeat an abomination is to kill the mage." He sighed and sadly shook his head. "But that just takes us back to square one."

"That's not the only way..."

Their eyes went to Jowan as he stepped into the room, cautiously approaching them.

Lady Isolde instantly stiffened, pinning him with a hateful look. "What's the meaning of this? You were supposed to be jailed!"

"I let him out," Everil answered casually, drawing the arlessa's glare.

"Is he the mage you mentioned?" asked Teagan, scrutinizing him.

"Yes... He's the bastard who poisoned my husband and started all of this."

"Oh, please…" Everil scoffed. "You brought him here to teach Connor in secret, in order to hide the boy was a mage. You wanted to protect your son so badly that you even lied to your own husband. Don't play the innocent victim here. This is also your fault."

"W-What...!" Isolde's voice raised a few decibels. "You dare accuse me of what's happened to my husband? To my son! How dare—"

"Enough!" Teagan cut her off, scowling angrily. "She's right! You may not have intended for this to happen, but your secrecy made the mage's actions possible!"

"I…" She shrunk away from him.

A brief pause followed and Jowan raised his hands, attempting to appease them. "Look… what I did was… unforgivable. I know. But I want to make things right. Please let me help."

The bann folded his arms, turning his attention to him. "Very well… What do you suggest we do about my nephew?"

He fiddled with his fingers, still not all that comfortable under the other man's stare. "There's a spell used in the Circle of Magi that can send a mage into the Fade—the very place from which the demon is controlling Connor. Once there, that mage could fight the creature directly and kill it, which would, in turn, release the child from its hold."

Isolde's expression lightened, all prior anger replaced by hope. "So there's a way to rid ourselves of the demon without hurting my boy?"

"Yes, but… this is a powerful spell, so we'd need the help of a few other mages and a good amount of lyrium. None of which we have on hand right now."

"I have a mage in my party," Everil offered. "She's waiting for us outside of Redcliffe and also carries lyrium with her. I could go get her and bring her here to help."

"I'm afraid that won't be enough to cast the spell the usual way… We would need more mages, as well as more lyrium than you can possibly carry in your travels." He reached up to awkwardly rub the back of his neck. "But I'm a… blood mage. Which means I could send your companion into the fade without the extra help. However, a spell like this one would require a lot of blood… All of it, in fact."

"So someone would have to be sacrificed?" Teagan voiced features paling at the thought.

Jowan fiddled with his fingers, turning away from them. "I know that's not much of an option..."

"No," Everil chimed in. "Not an option at all."

"Well, I volunteer."

The words drew their stunned stares to the arlessa.

"What? Isolde, are you mad!" Teagan protested. "Eamon would never allow this!"

But she lifted her chin defiantly, showing no fear. "I don't see what is so hard to understand. Either my son dies so that we may kill that thing inside him, or I give my life so that he may live. To me, the choice is clear."

Alistair shook his head, sickened by the conversation. "I don't like this… How could more evil solve the problem? Two wrongs don't make a right."

"There will be no sacrifices. We find another way," Everil said firmly, tone leaving no room for argument.

"If that's the case… Then the Circle of Magi would be the only likely place where we can find both the mages and the lyrium we need," Alistair said, gazing towards his companion.

This piqued her attention and she turned to him with raised brows. "The Circle is not far, and we need to seek their support regardless. Perhaps we can kill two birds with one stone."

He felt a little relieved at her suggestion. "That does sound like a great idea."

"We leave immediately," Everil asserted, her decision made before regarding the mage. "Jowan, you stay here. If there's a way to keep Connor asleep until we return, use it."

He gave her a shaky dip of his head. "I think I know a spell that can do that."

"Good. We will return as soon as possible." She made to leave.

"Lady Everil."

The Warden stopped and craned her head towards Teagan.

He offered her a small smile, a hand coming to rest on her shoulder. "I know it's not over yet, but you have kept us alive, as you promised. You have my gratitude."

She nodded mutely, returning the smile before resuming her steps to the door. The four made their way out, walking with purpose to the main entrance. They left the castle through the front gates, crossing the long bridge towards the edge of the village and beyond. Behind them, the demon's presence lingered, holding Redcliffe trapped within its grasp as those inside the castle hoped for their swift return.

.x.x.x.x.

Night was already upon them by the time they arrived back at camp. They were near the Imperial Highway, which they could possibly take around Lake Calenhad and towards the Circle of Magi further north. The trip would have to wait until morning, however, for their bodies demanded rest after the constant battles and the hours without food and drink.

After scarfing down several bread rolls and half a bottle of wine, Everil set out to work on drafting the shortest route towards their next destination. But before she could finish the plan, their map was torn from her grasp and she was dragged closer to the campfire by a temperamental witch who insisted on treating her wound. And although Morrigan appeared to mean well, she had no bedside manners to speak of.

"Ah!" Everil cried, flinching away from her rough hands. "Will you stop torturing me!"

"Stay still and 'twill not hurt. 'Tis as simple as that." Morrigan smeared more of the herbal paste she concocted onto her cheek, the muddy smell overwhelming her nostrils.

"Are you certain you're not doing this simply to get back at me for not having brought you along?"

"Hmph!" She pressed her fingers against her injury, drawing yet another yelp out of her. "Perhaps I am, foolish girl. Had you not doubted my abilities, I may have been able to immobilize that demon-child and he would not have mangled your face so."

"You don't know that…" Everil muttered stubbornly under her breath, feeling as if Fergus were the one scolding her.

"You are very fortunate to have me here. Otherwise, this cut of yours would have turned into a much more unsightly scar." Morrigan irritably wiped the paste away with a clean, wet cloth. "To think you were going to simply leave it without even so much as cleaning it. It speaks to how little you think of your own well being when that head of yours is set upon a quest to save others—which may be a trait some may admire. I, however, find 'tis incredibly stupid and highly irresponsible."

"Gee… thanks for caring…" Her eyes avoided her as she barraged her for yet another mistake.

Approaching footsteps made the two women gaze up to see Alistair walking to them. There was concern in his stare, mixed in with a bit of guilt as he came to stand beside them.

"Ah, look who's here!" Morrigan mocked him, a cynical smirk over her lips. "Tremendous work with that abomination, Ser Templar."

He scowled at her. "Just tell me how she's doing..."

"Well…" she huffed and stood, holding a bowl and the rag. "'Tis not infected and it is already healing. By what I heard happened, she was quite lucky."

Her patient waved them off. "You two are taking this more seriously than I am. It's truly nothing."

"You would not be here speaking so carelessly had that demon cut lower, Warden," Morrigan rebuked with a disapproving glare. "I may be good at using healing herbs to treat injuries, but I doubt very seriously that my skills would have worked on a slashed neck or a severed head."

Everil winced a little at her words, resisting the urge to reach for her throat. "All right... then why didn't it kill me?"

"You said you saw a glimpse of humanity in the boy before it happened. Perhaps some still remained which kept the demon from seeing where it was aiming the blade." She shook her head at the younger woman, then turned to leave. "Anyhow, now that I am no longer needed, I shall go prepare for tomorrow's travels."

Everil gazed at her with a grateful smile. "Thank you for everything, Morrigan."

"Do try to take better care of yourself next time instead of making my work more difficult," she replied, sending her a brief glance before walking off to her little camp on the edge of the clearing.

"Still as charming as ever…" With a weary breath, Alistair lowered himself on the ground next to her and propped an arm on his knee.

Everil tiredly blew up her fangs, feeling foolish. "I didn't think of how terrible things could have turned out had she not mentioned it."

"Yeah… It was pretty scary to watch," he quietly admitted, observing the campfire's bouncing flames. "And I feel like it was partly my fault you got hurt..."

"Huh?" She blinked at him. "Why in the world would you think that?"

"Because I stopped you. Had I let you handle things differently—"

"I would have killed a child," she interjected, riddled with shame. "I promised the bann that I would save them all… I almost broke that promise."

"You didn't though..."

"No, but I came too damn close to it. I don't know what came over me... I just wanted to help those people. I wanted to save them so badly that I forgot Connor needed saving too." Everil shook her head, then gave him an apologetic look. "I'm so sorry, Alistair."

He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's all right. Don't beat yourself up over it. We had a rough time in the village hours before, so you were just doing the best you could."

She released a steady breath, the pressure in her chest gradually ebbing away. "I just hope the new plan works…"

Alistair gave her an encouraging pat. "It will. You'll see."

"Thanks…" She half-smiled, the action causing the side of her face to ache. Wincing, she looked away, her gaze falling to the dirt. "You're handling things well... Considering it was your village that was attacked back there."

"Probably because it's been so long since I last saw it that it hardly felt like home anymore. It changed so much, it barely looked like the same village I left behind." He shrugged, then smiled playfully. "I'll tell you one thing, though. The smell of fish hasn't changed. It brought back memories the moment it slapped me in the face."

"I can imagine," she laughed, amused by his choice of words. He certainly knew how to lighten the mood, even if it was at his own expense.

A comfortable silence fell over them as the two sat by the warmth of the fire, simply resting while enjoying each other's company. For a moment, it almost felt as if it were just them camping out in the wilderness. Without anyone else to listen to their conversations or watch them as they spoke. It was comforting. A new normal.

After a moment, Everil found herself staring at his profile through the corner of her eyes. Discreetly admiring how the flames reflected over his hazel-browns, creating glistening sparkles that glowed like fresh honey. She observed the way the light played with his manly features, the dark blond stubbles around his mouth and chin more visible against his pale skin. Skin that was slightly covered in dirt, but was otherwise smooth and flawless.

Everil smiled a little as she rested the uninjured cheek on her fist. "Hey, Alistair..."

"Yes?" His head turned to her.

"Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?"

"Uhm…" Heat rose to his face at the question and he mustered a bashful smile. "Once, I think… In Denerim. A while back. But those women were… not like you." He chuckled lightly, then gave her a flirtatious grin. "Why? Is this your way of saying you think I'm handsome?"

"I don't know…" She sat up and leaned a little towards him, fluttering her lashes. "Maybe?"

"Oh?" He snickered. "I'll get it out of you yet…"

Everil laughed softly, her cheeks also painted pink. "So… other women have told you?"

"Yes, but they weren't…" His voice broke and he nervously cleared his throat. Maker, he was terrible at this. "Those women... were not as beautiful as you are."

She felt her heart skip as her eyebrows went up in surprise. "You think I'm beautiful?"

"Of course you are… And you know it. You're beautiful, resourceful, and all those other things you would probably hurt me for not saying."

Her smile faded as she turned away, crestfallen. "Oh…"

The sudden change in her mood made his brow knit with worry. "Did… Did I say something wrong?"

"N-No…" Everil shook her head slowly, biting her bottom lip to keep it from quivering. "It's just..." She breathed out a sigh and touched her face, wincing from the pain. And although she could feel Morrigan's healing was starting to take, his words drew her thoughts to what would be a mark she would carry for the rest of her life.

"Hey…"

There was a soft touch under her chin as Alistair used a curled index finger to gently turn her head towards him, prompting her eyes to meet his.

"I didn't just say you were beautiful…" he murmured, his expression soft and caring. "I meant it."

"Maybe I was once…" Everil said pitifully, suddenly weakened by his stare. "Before this…"

"No... That scar only shows your willingness to risk your life in order to help others." His hand came to cup her face as his thumb gently stroked the edge of that deep gash, leaving behind a warm, tingling sensation. "Trust me… You're still the most beautiful woman I've ever met."

"Alistair…" His name came as a barely audible whisper as those amber-brown pools suddenly held her captive. Butterflies fluttered deep inside her stomach, joining the rapid beat of her heart as it drummed excitedly against her ribcage.

He searched her features, mouth running dry as he found himself mystified by her beautiful eyes. The firelight reflected over them, reminding him of the setting sun over a clear, blue lake. His pulse quickened as his gaze descended to her enticing lips, their rounded softness beckoning him as spring water called to those dying of thirst. And he began to lean in. Slowly. Until their noses were nearly touching, their breaths almost intertwining. Maker, how he craved to drink from this spring. To bask in its warm waters and taste the richness of its depths until his thirst was no more.

Everil's eyes slid shut and she waited. Waited for that tempting mouth of his to claim her own. To feel the warmth of his lips and—

"Food is here!"

The Grey Wardens pulled apart as if they'd been burned, their faces flaring with embarrassment. They looked away from one another, awkwardly avoiding each other's stares as Leliana's footsteps grew louder. She was returning to camp with a pair of dead hares as their would-be dinner, Bjorn close behind her.

The hound rushed towards Everil, panting heavily after having helped in the hunt. She scratched the dog's head, sympathizing with him as she struggled to regain the ability to breathe herself. Meanwhile, Alistair was finding a spot in the woods particularly interesting, his face a peculiar shade of red. Both played it off for the rest of the night, doing their best to hide whatever was happening between them from the others. But little did they know that a mildly amused witch had been watching them from afar all along.