CHAPTER 15

..x..

Shadows shifted along the walls as the group entered the fifth floor, again hearing nothing but their own footsteps. Until Morrigan's derisive voice disrupted the quiet. "I still cannot believe you actually have Templar abilities, Alistair."

He glanced at her, arching an eyebrow. "Why is that surprising? I already said I was trained as one."

"Hmm…" She thoughtfully tapped her chin with a delicate finger. "The Chantry does not usually let go of their Templars, or so I heard. Which made me wonder if perhaps you were utterly useless as one and if your ineptitude was the reason why you were ultimately given to the Grey Wardens."

Alistair sighed in irritation. "I was not given to the Grey Wardens…"

"Then you were conscripted? Perhaps out of pity by your Duncan?" The glare he shot her drew an amused laugh out of her. "So I guessed correctly!"

"Quiet…!" Everil hushed them as they continued their search through the tower, following the rounded corridors. This level was just as stained with blood and filled with corpses as the first. They didn't need any attention drawn to them.

"Are you done trying to ridicule me?" he hissed, fruitlessly attempting to ignore Morrigan's mocking smile.

She rolled her eyes, whispering back. "I was only curious. No need to get so defensive. One would think that perhaps you were hiding something."

"I already told her... Your trick won't work this time."

"You told her what, exactly?"

He half-smiled at her curiosity. "You think you're smarter than me, so figure it out yourself."

"Oh, please..." She huffed, lifting her nose while dismissively waving him off. "I am not that interested in the likes of you."

"Really? That's too bad. I thought we were becoming friends. I was even thinking of complimenting your looks some time."

Her brows met at the bridge of her nose as she blinked at him. "What?"

"You see... I was looking at you the other day and it occurred to me that you have a very nice nose." He leaned in, a grin spreading over his lips. "It looks exactly like your mother's."

It took her a minute to register the meaning behind his words, then Morrigan's gaze darkened. "I… hate you so much..."

Alistair inwardly patted himself on the back, turning away from her with a satisfied smile. It wasn't often he got his in on the annoying woman. And by the way she kept glaring daggers at his profile, he could tell he'd really struck a nerve this time.

Eventually, they reached another door near the end of the passage, which Everil carefully opened for them. Behind it was a desolate office, with books and papers scattered about. Shelves and strange artifacts lined the walls, while an ornate desk sat at the center. A single oil lamp burned over it, illuminating the space enough to let them see that no one was inside.

Wynne sighed in disappointment. "This is Irvin's office. I half-expected him to be here."

"We'll just have to keep searching." Everil stepped over the blue carpet towards the desk, intent on searching it for anything of value. She scanned the books, noticing that some of them were related to blood magic. Careful hands picked up a tome and flipped through the pages and she found herself wondering why these texts were even housed within the Circle when they were supposed to be forbidden in nature.

"I may have found something," Morrigan called, standing above a large trunk sitting in a dark corner of the room.

"Irvin keeps old scriptures inside that chest," said Wynne. "He may have left something we can use, though he always carried the key with him."

"Let me have a look." Everil set down the book she'd been looking at and walked over. She took a knee, pulling out her lock pick as the others gathered around her. The lock made clicking noises as she twisted the thin pieces of metal, trying to undo the mechanism while wearing her lip in concentration.

"Are you sure you can open it?" Morrigan eventually asked, crossing her arms impatiently.

A loud click was heard.

"How could you ever doubt me?" Everil replied with a cocky grin. She rose and stepped aside, letting her open it and rummage through its contents.

In moments the witch let out a triumphant 'aha!' and lifted herself from the floor, holding a black, leather-bound book. "This is it!" She presented Everil her prize, a rare, genuine smile on her face. "Flemeth's old grimoire… This book represents the first time my mother's secrets slipped out of her fingers. If I can study this, I will be able to learn more than she wished for me to know. About her… and about magic."

"Flemeth? She's that fabled witch's daughter? I thought those were mere legends..." Wynne commented with surprise. "I suppose that explains her hostility towards the Circle of Magi."

Alistair chuckled next to her. "And everything else, really."

"I imagine Flemeth has many secrets," Everil said with interest.

"She does indeed..." Morrigan cleared her throat, her sunny disposition fading as quickly as it came. "I thank you for allowing me to search for it. I shall not squander this opportunity and I will ensure to use my findings for our benefit."

Everil laughed a little at her formality. "Of course. That's what friends are for."

"Y-Yes… Certainly," she stammered awkwardly, quickly stashing the book in her bag.

A man's scream then echoed through the hall, startling the group. They exchanged glances before hastily making for the door, entering the dark corridor once more. Their feet hit the ground, following the cries as Alistair and Everil ran in the front.

The lighting drastically changed from torchlight to a strange purple and red glow as what appeared to be sacks of flesh emerged from around the corner. The scent of rot and decay slapped them in the face as they kept moving, crossing over into what appeared to be another world as more masses appeared, mixed in with what remained of some dead bodies. But in spite of the dread their new surroundings brought, they didn't stop even to catch their breaths.

They burst into a wide room filled with dead bodies and saturated with an almost unbearable stench decay. A greater number of fleshy growths covered the walls, pulsing and throbbing as if alive. The Wardens took tentative steps forward, followed by the rest of their party as they looked around, grimacing in disgust. Not even the darkspawn were capable of such corruption. At least not in this form.

Everil's gaze trailed over the floors, following the vine-like tendrils which traveled along what seemed to have once been a prayer chamber. Her eyes fell on a monster standing at the center, its disfigured hand holding the wrist of a young, brown-haired man lying at its feet. The creature moved its head sluggishly, blank stare focusing upon the new arrivals. It had the same horrifying features as the abomination from the children's dormitory, though this one appeared to have a higher level of intelligence.

"Ah… guests," it spoke, a faint smile playing over its deformed lips.

"It has Niall!" Wynne gasped in horror.

"What have you done to that mage?" Everil drew her blade and aimed it at the creature.

It released a breathless groan and directed its blank stare at Niall's unconscious form, shoulders shaking with what sounded like a rough laughter. "He is merely resting. He was so very, very weary." Its attention returned to her and it titled its grotesque head as if curious. "Are you not tired of all the fighting? Surely your mortal body demands rest by now."

A heavy aura fell over them at the abomination's command, weighing them down and greedily draining away their energy. Their eyelids grew heavy, their bodies craving rest against their will. Alistair brought a hand to his temple, a strange fog filling his thoughts as he fought to stay awake. "Something's not right… So tired... Somebody pinch me…"

Morrigan leaned on her staff, glaring at the ground. "You cannot expect me... to sleep on a floor sticky with blood."

"Resist…" Wynne attempted to keep them on their feet. "You must resist…!"

But the creature continued, its words like a soft lullaby in their ears. "Oh, how good it would feel to finally take a nap. To sleep away the pain in your sore muscles. To let yourselves drift towards a deep slumber and dream."

"What…? What are you… doing to us?" Everil's blade shook as she tries to fight back, staring at it through half-lidded eyes.

"You should rest… come lay upon my breast and sleep."

The Warden's vision faded to black as she fell, her weapon clattering on the ground. The others followed suit, dropping beside her. All were claimed by their exhaustion as the abomination stood over them, gazing upon its new morsels while a dark cackle rumbled from inside it. And it was pleased, for today it would feast well.

.x.x.x.x.

Birds chirped just outside her slightly open window as gentle drops of rain slid over the glass pane. The sound of the soldiers training outside could be heard, giving her a familiar sense of security. Everil shifted her gaze from the beauty of the lush, green lands outside to her bed, already made for her by their maids. She couldn't remember what it was she was doing before coming to her room, but for some reason, she didn't care. She was relaxed. At peace.

Everil adjusted her olive green gown, gold-embroidered skirts touching the floor as the long sleeves almost covered her hands. She fluffed her hair a little and began making her way out to the hall, closing the door behind her. She usually had Bjorn with her, but he was nowhere to be seen. A slight frown creased her brow in puzzlement upon finding his absence strange.

"Ah… He is probably raiding the larder again. Let him be. Surely there would be no harm done," a voice that wasn't her own echoed in her head, murmuring soothingly to her.

"Yes… He's only hungry," she whispered to herself while sauntering along the familiar passages of Highever Castle, heading towards the gardens.

The rain had stopped by the time she stepped outside, leaving glistering droplets over the greenery. A little boy's distant laughter reached her ears, bringing a smile to her lips and warmth to her heart. She followed the sound, walking by rose bushes and gardenias while enjoying the aroma the flowers gifted them in exchange for their care.

When Everil reached the clearing, she saw her nephew running through it, chased by a man she recognized as her older brother, Fergus. Her smile widened when the two fell and rolled over the sparkling grass. A voice chastised them gently, and she looked towards it to find Oriana chuckling while walking to the pair.

Another couple sat under a wooden canopy by a pond, their loving smiles beckoning her to join them. They were her parents, dressed in their fine garbs while sipping tea, which they did together at around this time every day. Gentle music filled the background as her family's bard played the lute nearby, the soft tunes bringing about a deep sense of nostalgia.

Her feet were taking her towards them just as a small voice in the back of her head told her something was amiss. That something wasn't right. But Everil ignored it, the happiness inside her forcefully shoving it aside. She couldn't tell why she was so elated to see them. As if she hadn't been with them in years. But it didn't matter. All she wanted was to be near them now.

As she approached, her mother rose from her chair and opened her arms wide, pulling her into a warm embrace. Everil returned the hug, holding her tightly, while at the same time, confused as to why the contact caused her chest to ache so much.

Eleanor pulled away to gently stroke her cheek. "You join us at last, my darling girl."

"Yes, Mother…" she replied quietly as her father came to join them.

"It's such a beautiful day. Don't you agree?" her mother said, smiling lovingly at her.

"Yes… It is indeed. Though it was raining just earlier."

That same whisper from before echoed in her brain, drowning all reason. "You all loved the rainy days at the castle. Look at how joyous your family looks."

She chuckled at this, smiling brightly. "I suppose there's nothing odd about playing in a little rain. Where's Ser Gilmore, by the way? Is he at the training grounds with the men?"

"Yes. Yes, he is," Bryce replied, giving her a knowing look. "Though I could send for him if you'd like..."

A light blush spread over her cheeks. "N-No… It's quite all right. He has his own duties to complete. Perhaps I'll go say hello later."

"Auntie Evy! Look!"

Her attention went to Oren, seeing him dancing to the bard's tune with his mother. He tried to twirl her around but was too short to manage it on his own. Oriana giggled and bent over to help him, awkwardly turning her body beneath his small arm.

"That looks like fun." Eleanor gazed at her husband, placing a hand on his arm. "Bryce, you should dance with your daughter. She may need a new lesson."

He let out a light laugh. "That is an excellent idea, my love. This child of mine was always a terrible dancer."

"The student is sometimes only as good as their teacher, Father," Everil countered jokingly.

"Touché…" Bryce chuckled and grinned proudly while stepping closer to her. With a hand at his back, he bowed before her, the other outstretched in a formal request. "Would you kindly grant me this piece, my lady?"

She playfully rolled her eyes and followed along, offering him a polite curtsy before placing her hand on his.

The two of them made for the clearing as the bard continued to play, this time a different piece. Father and daughter followed the melody, slowly dancing as if it were a ball. She was a little clumsy in her steps, but muscle memory prevailed.

One. Two. Three.

One. Two. Three.

"You are not as bad as I remember," he teased.

"Same to you, Father," Everil chuckled with a sarcastic smile.

It was all almost magical. As if this were the place where she was meant to be. How she was meant to live. With her family, in her home, surrounded by their love. But as they continued to waltz to the melody, a strange feeling was again trying to warn her. Insistently poking at her brain. Beckoning her to place her attention on the gaps between her thoughts.

"Wait…" Confusion gradually creased her brow and her feet stopped moving to the music. "I feel as if I'm forgetting something."

"Nonsense," her father replied dismissively. "There is nothing to forget. Just enjoy the time with your family."

"No… This is… odd. There was something important I had to do." She withdrew from him, visibly frustrated while shaking her head in an attempt to clear the fog. "What was it...? What was it that I was supposed to do?"

"Ignore that feeling." His eyes darkened, but the smile remained. "You should not leave us again."

She regarded him with a puzzled expression, unable to comprehend. "What are you saying? I've always been here."

He embraced her, holding her as he used to when she was a child. "Then that is all that matters. We will all be together like this, forever."

Everil returned the hug, instantly feeling safe. She sighed and closed her eyes, her worries fading away. Yes. This was where she belonged. This is where she wanted to stay. Forever…

"Don't!" A hand grabbed her from behind, yanking her out of her father's arms and sending her to the ground with an 'oomph'.

She shot her aggressor an angry glare and then immediately recognized his robes. He was a mage. Someone she'd seen somewhere before.

"Wake up!" he yelled, taking a knee to shake her by the shoulders. "This is not what you think it is. These people are demons trying to fool you! You're in the Fade!"

She smacked one of his hands away. "What in the Maker's name are you—" And then the voice from before screamed, snapping her out of the trance she'd been under. Shock was etched over her face as everything rushed back into her mind, slamming into her like a brick wall.

Her family's death.

The Blight.

Redcliffe.

The Circle.

The abomination.

Her friends.

"This… This isn't real?" she repeated in almost a whisper. Her stunned stare trailed from the mage's deep brown eyes up to her father, who was looking down at them from a short distance away. Gone was the love and warmth he had before, replaced by nothing but emptiness. A shell devoid of a soul.

"No…" the mage said beside her, following her line of vision while still clutching her shoulder to keep her grounded. "These things aren't your family. All of this is a dream created by Sloth—a powerful demon capable of manipulating other victims through its host. These creatures are familiars that follow his command. Sloth wants to keep you here and devour your soul while you sleep, so he's using your memories to fool you into staying inside your dreams."

Her gaze narrowed dangerously as she listened, anger rising at the trickery.

"Yes. This may not be real… But it is what you want, no?" The false Bryce took a step towards the two, his voice now carrying with it a second one. "We can give you this, and more. You will live happily with those you love for eternity. All you have to do is stay."

Everil pushed herself to her feet with the mage's help, her attention still set on the creatures that began to etch closer. "Niall, is it?"

"That's right…" he replied with a half-smile. "I take it you ran into Owain on your way up. Did you come to help the Circle?"

"Yes. I have a party of capable people with me, too. But they are likely trapped, as I am."

"Then we need to hurry. I'll help you get to them."

The two slowly retreated as the enemy stalked nearer.

"I appreciate it..." Her attention darted from one familiar to another as they continued to retreat. She was unarmed, and without her weapons, the only thing she could possibly do was break their necks. Unfortunately, she wasn't all too eager to fight her family. Fake or not.

The faces that once belonged to her loved ones slowly turned sinister, twisted with malice. They sneered, drool drizzling from their mouths as claws grew out from their fingertips. And they all spoke as if they were all one. "Stay with us! Stay!"

"Run!" Niall grabbed her hand and spun about, taking her with him. She let him lead as they hastily crossed the clearing, her faux family giving chase as their wide strides and twitching bodies revealed their true nature. They headed for the treeline past the garden, leaving the castle behind as the massive structure began to break apart at Sloth's command.

"Where are we going?" Everil shouted, picking up her dress so as to not trip.

"You'll see, just keep running!"

Their feet hit the ground, with Niall guiding her deeper into the woods. Trees and bushes zoomed by as they tried to put distance between them and the demons, but they were gaining ground. Her father's copy was nearly reaching for her hair, fingers gracing her.

"Shit!" Everil screamed as she willed herself to go faster, moving out of its reach.

Frustrated, the familiar growled and leaped forth, arms outstretched.

"Watch out!" Niall cried out, throwing her out of its way. It tackled him instead, knocking him onto his back and pinning him to the ground.

"Niall!" Everil picked herself up, watching as her demonic father growled viciously from atop her rescuer. He foamed at the mouth as if he were a rabid dog, ready to devour the mage as he struggled beneath him.

"Damn you for making me do this!" she screamed and swung a leg, kicking him hard on the jaw and knocking him off the mage. She reached down and grabbed him by the front of his robe, pulling him to his feet. "Come on!"

Taking his hand, she again broke into a near sprint, dragging him with her as he stumbled behind her. They burst through the foliage, dodging branches and jumping over roots, the background a blur in their desperate need to escape.

"Look for a mirror!" he yelled, the howls and growls of the creatures growing louder in spite of their efforts to outrun them. Just as he said this, a body-size mirror emerged from the trees, its surface rippling as if made of liquid.

The demon playing her brother dashed from the side, sliding to a stop and blocking their advance.

Everil halted, panting heavily. "Get out of my way!"

"You will not leave here, little sister," it said mockingly, licking its lips. "You shall remain with us and bask in our love until our lord has finished feasting."

"Sorry, but I have important business to attend to." She lifted her chin with pride. "Now, move aside. I don't care if you look like my brother, I will run right through you."

"I'll make it move!" her companion cast a spell, unleashing a wave of flames upon their obstacle. The creature howled, its clothes burning up along with its facade.

Everil and Niall didn't linger, darting by it and into the mirror without looking back. But they were too slow. The demons reached through the glass and took hold of the mage, their fingers digging into his flesh as he screamed.

"No!" she held onto his arm with both hands, fighting against the things clawing at him from behind. But they were far stronger than her, threatening to drag them both back into her dream as her feet slid over the floor.

"It's… too late for me! Only you… can defeat Sloth now!" Niall yelled in agony as blood poured from his wounds, and he shoved her away from him, forcing her to release him. "Please save my Circle!"

"Niall!" Everil called to him as he was taken out of her reach. She ran up and pounded her fist against the glass, finding it sealed shut. "Damn it, you bastards!" she bit out, pressing her forehead against the polished surface. That man had just sacrificed himself to save her and there was nothing she could do to help him.

Swallowing, she moved back, hearing the chime of her hauberk and feeling its familiar weight. She gazed at herself, seeing her Grey Warden armor, as well as both the sword and dagger at her hips, and bow and arrows at her back.

"You son of a bitch…" she muttered angrily, craning her head back to stare at the hazy, yellow sky swirling above her. "I swear to you, I'll make you pay for this!"

There was no answer, save for some far away wails that reached her ears. She surveyed her surroundings, listening to them echo around her in a choir of suffering and misery. The world she was in was dark and distorted, floating rocks and flowing amber clouds casting the landscape in permanent twilight. She stood on one of the rocks—a wide island in a sea of many more that spread out for as far as her eyes could see.

So this is the Fade… Everil thought worriedly, silently hoping her real family was not truly within this place. Though it seemed this side of the realm belonged to Sloth alone.

Her gaze shifted to her right, landing on another mirror a distance away. It was leaning against a pillar at the other end of the platform, its surface glimmering under the golden glow of the skies. She pressed her lips into a focused line and went to stand before it, expecting to see her own reflection. Only someone else appeared over it, her gentle blue eyes peering back at her.

"Wynne?" she whispered, scrutinizing the reflection. Her hand slowly reached for her, the mirror rippling under her touch. If her companions were within these portals, then they were probably dreaming too. She had to save them and leave this dreadful place. Somehow.

.x.x.x.x.

Everil warily crossed to the other side, entering a room similar in appearance to another they'd previously explored in the Circle Tower. It was a giant library, lined wall to wall with books as a great chandelier shone from above. The scent of paper and ink touched her nostrils, sans the smell of blood that had saturated the air in the mortal realm. She wandered around the bookshelves separating the area into sections, seeing young mages studying or casting spells as she went.

"Hold the flame still. You need to control your power without fear." Wynne was standing a distance away, gently instructing a child struggling to hold together a ball of fire between his small hands. Other children stood by, watching intently.

The boy's control seemed to waver for a moment, his nerves disrupting his focus. He released a small cry when the flame burned his finger, shattering what was left of his concentration. The fire grew larger, drawing energy from his fear until the old mage stepped closer and her hands hovered over his.

Slowly, he grew calmer, causing the fire to stabilize. A sigh of relief escaped him and he gazed up at her, admiration in his eyes.

She smiled gently in return. "See? I am only helping you remain calm. If you conquer your fear, you will control your magic. Mind over matter."

"Wynne."

Her head spun towards the Grey Warden. "Huh? Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Everil stepped closer, cautiously regarding her. "You don't remember me?"

"No. I cannot say that I can." Wynne's expression turned to irritation as she faced her. "Why are you here? Can't you see I am in the middle of a lesson?"

Maker's breath... Why can't anything ever be easy? Everil sighed inwardly. It seemed they would be just as enthralled by Sloth as she was. Which meant she would need to wake them up to tear them away from its grasp. "All right…" she began, speaking slowly. "You have to listen to me now. These children of yours are not what they appear."

"What?" Wynne sent her a defiant glare, grabbing her staff from behind her back while shielding her charges with her body. "What are you talking about, stranger?"

The Warden raised her hands in front of her. "I'm saying that we're in the Fade. A demon has trapped us all here with it."

"Ridiculous. Now, away with you, girl! I have much teaching to do."

"Fine…" Everil huffed. "But before I go, just tell me one thing. Do you remember what you were doing before you came here?"

Wynne raised an eyebrow. "Why does that matter?"

"Just… think back for just a minute."

"All right... If it so pleases you," Wynne uttered irritably and paused. After a second, she pinched the bridge of her nose, brow tense in concentration. She shook her head. "It's... fuzzy. I cannot remember what I was doing before I came into this room."

"Do you recall the abomination? Or the attack on the Circle?" Everil probed further.

Realization dawned on her as the memories were unlocked from deep inside her mind. Wynne's mouth hung open as she breathed out the words. "The Circle… We were trying to save it."

"That's right. You were helping me try to retake it when we were captured."

"Oh, Maker…" Horror soon followed as Wynne tightened her grip on the staff. "We must hurry and leave this place!"

"Wynne?" One of the children grew nearer, reaching pleadingly. "Please don't leave us... We need you."

The old woman appeared to falter, gazing at their innocent faces with conflict in her eyes. But she caught herself and swatted his hand away. "Begone, demon! I have no interest in playing your games!"

Seeing their illusion broken drew out their malicious expressions, their features twisted into sneers. They closed in with inhuman speed, snapping into place around the two women. Sharp claws burst from their fingers, their staves clattering on the floor before a gust of wind extinguished the chandelier, plunging everything into darkness.

"Stand back…" Everil pulled the old woman behind her and drew her sword. She glared at the small creatures, preparing herself to fight them, the light coming from their demonic eyes their only light source.

"Die!" They shrieked, all attacking at once in a sudden burst of speed.

The Warden leaned sideways, dodging one's jumping strike. It flew past her and she spun, swinging her blade around to slash open its back. It screamed and fell, then her hand shot out as another struck, catching its wrist before delivering a swift kick to its stomach. The demon-child fell onto his rear and screeched just as her blade cut through its head as if it were a melon.

She yanked it, crimson gushing out of its wound just as two more closed in from opposite sides, trying to flank her. One went for her neck, but she struck at its claws, deflecting the hit before sweeping the other's feet from underneath it. Elethea swooshed in an arch as her wielder bolted up, the edge slicing through both creatures.

The last one charged with a vicious roar, leaping high in the air in an attempt to surprise her from behind. In one fluid motion, Everil drew her dagger and spun as she flung it, hitting the mark. It dropped to the ground, flailed, kicked, and screamed until it moved no more. She took a step and her hand came down to grasp the dagger, plucking it with a sickening crack.

She swung her blades clean and turned to Wynne, sheathing them. "Let's go. We still have to help the others."

Wynne nodded shakily, her gaze lingering over the bodies.

The two of them made for the direction of the mirror, but the mage halted mid-step. She stared at her fearfully, her voice shaking. "W-Wait… What's happening?"

Everil ran to her companion as she began to slowly vanish before her eyes. She reached for her, fingers going through her. "Wynne!"

But she disappeared, vanishing into nothingness.

She cursed under her breath, frantically searching the now dissipating room as a laughing voice surrounded her. "You may have released one of them, but I hold three yet. What will you do now, Grey Warden?"

"It's quite simple, really!" she snapped angrily at the darkness, the scenery around her continuing to blur like a painting underwater. "I'm going to save the others and then I'm going to kill you!"

It cackled in amusement at her threat. "We shall see..."

Hands closed into fists, Everil stalked back towards the way out, leaving the pitch-black world behind. The portal returned her to the same piece of rock from before while another appeared nearby. She didn't wait, her feet already moving toward it as Morrigan's image rippled over the polished glass.

.x.x.x.x.

"Will you cease the charade, demon? I have already told you that I will not be fooled. Now, away with you!" Morrigan's distant voice reached Everil's ears as she trekked through the thick bushes of the Korcari Wilds. Her hands parted the brush as her feet walked over the thick roots, following the familiar path to the witch's hut.

It didn't take long for her to reach the clearing, eyes spotting the fire at its center. A pot of stew bubbled over it just as it had before, though there was no scent coming out of it. And just a few steps from it was her companion, glaring daggers at her weazened mother as they bickered.

"Such rebellious tongue…" Flemeth glowered at her daughter, amber eyes turning to slits. "You would disrespect your mother in such a way?"

"You are not my mother, vile creature!" Morrigan retorted, curling her nose at her. "You are nothing but a pathetic little imp enslaved by your master. Leave me be!"

A loud slap echoed as the old hag struck her across the face, nearly knocking her over.

Morrigan blinked a few times, colors swimming in her vision, head still turned to the side from the hit. It took a moment for her brain to register what had just transpired, unable to rationalize the sheer gall of the creature. She touched the red mark on her cheek, then very slowly, returned her cat-like eyes to it, casting upon it a deadly glare. "I give you this… That is far more like my mother…"

"Well, that was awkward," Everil muttered from where she stood with her arms crossed, interrupting the two.

"You!" Morrigan's head snapped in her direction. "You're finally here! Kill this thing before it drives me mad!"

"All right, all right… I'm working on it." She released a breath and unsheathed her sword, aiming it at the fake Flemeth. "Sorry, but you heard the lady. She's coming with me."

A wicked smile split its haggard face as it shifted its attention to the newcomer. "You may have managed to kill some of the others, but you will not defeat us. This meal belongs to our master!"

It released an inhuman shrill and darted forth, claws extended and ready to swipe. It struck air as Everil ducked, then she brought her blade up, swinging at it. It deflected her strike one-handed, then slashed again, giving her barely enough time to block. Claws and blade met with a loud clank, this one's skill greater than her previous foes.

She gritted her teeth, struggling against its strength as the creature leaned forward, its crazed, red eyes staring into her own. It snarled and then its mouth shot open disturbingly wide, releasing another ear-splitting screech that drilled its way into her brain. Everil winced at the sharp pain, losing her focus before her blade was shoved aside and the hag tackled her. She landed hard on her back, reaching for its hand as it tried to claw at her.

"Damn it!" Everil bit out, trying to attack with her sword, yet finding her arm immobilized by the monster's iron grip.

A spark of lightning shot, striking it on the back and weakening its hold on her. Everil took the chance, thrusting her sword upwards, piercing through the jaw and out the top of its head. It twitched as its blood sprayed over her, then yanked out her weapon, letting the creature drop to the ground beside her.

"Thanks for the help…" she grunted while rolling and rising to her feet with effort. She grimaced, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

Morrigan crossed her arms, looking her over. "No, you have my thanks. I could not kill it myself because of the demon's ability to manipulate my dream. I imagine you had a similar problem."

"Yes, but I was nearly swallowed up by it. It was using my family's memory to try to keep me in."

"I see…" The witch didn't miss the pain-stricken look that flashed over the other woman's features, yet chose to say nothing about it. "How did you escape it?"

"Niall helped me," Everil answered while sheathing her blades.

"The mage?"

"Yes." She approached her, glancing at the corpse. "What was this one trying to show you?"

"I do not know myself." She shrugged with disinterest. "I do not believe I gave it much room for creativity since I possess no unrealistic desires to exploit. I accept things as they are and make my destiny with my own hands."

"Oh… Well, I suppose that's a good way to be."

"'Tis the only way to be… Now, shall we go hunt down this demon and—huh?" Morrigan paused, giving her a surprised look. "What is happening? Why are you see-through?"

"Oh, damn it..." Everil reached out as yet another companion slowly vanished from her view, leaving her alone once more.

Her arms fell to her sides, hands closing into fists as she stared at the now empty spot, trying to figure out what it all meant. She hadn't awakened yet, so the demon likely had a stronger hold on her than it did on her friends. That, or it was somehow using her connection to them to imprison them.

Does this mean that I have to do all of this on my own?

Her annoyed glare went to the mirror in the distance, seeing it ripple as if calling to her. Determination promptly replaced her irritation and she headed back on confident strides. "Fine... If this is how you wish to play, then I will play. But I assure you, creature… you will be the one to lose at your own game."

Evil laughter filled her mind in response as the rickety old hut and the woods around her began to fade. The Grey Warden exited through the portal, blackness swallowing up the dream world at her back.