CHAPTER 16

..x..

Everil curiously observed the third mirror. A small boy with tousled, blond hair was staring back at her through large honey-brown eyes, his rosy cheeks dusted with dirt. He wore a soft blue, long-sleeved tunic and brown breeches, all also lightly covered in soil. She couldn't recognize him, but something told her she knew who he was. Still unsure, she entered the portal, walking into another dream within the realm.

She emerged in a bedroom with a child's bed off to one side, a nightstand next to it, bookshelves on the walls, and furs on the ground for decoration. The youngster she saw in the reflection sat on the floor with his back to her, playing with tiny wooden soldiers. He talked to himself, making sword noises with his mouth while clashing the figures together in a pretend battle.

"Hello?" she called to him, taking a tentative step. But there was no reply.

Everil got closer until she was standing behind him, then got on one knee to cautiously reach out, seeking to touch his shoulder. She blinked in confusion when her hand went through him. As if she were the dream this time and not the other way around.

A low growl was heard, causing her to pull away in surprise.

"Ah… I'm hungry," he muttered to himself before setting his toys down and rising to his feet. He dusted off his clothes, unsuccessfully patting the dirt off his pants. Then he gave his nose a little rub before spinning around to face her, his gaze briefly meeting hers.

Her eyebrows knitted. There was something familiar about his appearance, but she couldn't quite place it. Am I in a little mage's dream? Did Sloth trap a child too?

He headed for the door and exited his room, shuffling over the fine carpet decorating the hallway. She stood and followed, uncertain of what was happening, but intent on finding out. Her eyes scanned their surroundings as they walked, the statues of dogs and the paintings of grassy fields telling her it was a Fereldan homestead.

The home was great in size however, obviously a castle. A faint smell of fish blew through a window they passed by, the scent immediately revealing to her where she was. It was Redcliffe Castle, only without the bloodstains and gore along the halls.

They descended a set of stairs as he held onto the rail, carefully climbing down each step. He was humming to himself, his voice so innocent she couldn't help but to smile in spite of her circumstances. The two of them eventually reached another hallway, passing by familiar sets of decorative armor along the way. They were crossing the passage by the great hall when a conversation echoing from within halted his steps. He turned to the arched doorway and took careful steps to peer through it. Everil did the same, standing next to him to look inside the room.

"I know it has not been long since the war, Your Majesty. But I love her, and you can trust I would never put Ferelden at risk of another invasion."

"I do trust you, Eamon. It's not I who questions your judgment, but the people. Their wounds are still fresh."

The edged closer to the doorway while Everil did the same, standing above him as they both peered inside. A tall man clad in a white gambeson came into view, the garb accented with rich brown leather and golden buckles. Long hair the color of barley fell elegantly over wide shoulders as a rich purple cloak flowed down his back, its color sharp against the drab grey of the walls. An elaborate sword plated in gold was strapped to the man's hip, glimmering with the glow of the hearth warming the room. And while a young man was standing beside him, her stunned gaze remained focused on him. And while a young man was standing beside him, her stunned gaze remained focused on him.

He needed no literal crown for her to know who he was.

"King Maric?" she whispered, staring in awe at his handsome profile.

At that moment, the king's annoyed blue eyes shifted in her direction. Everil slammed her mouth shut, thinking that perhaps he'd heard her call his name. But his gaze instead fell on the child beside her, his features immediately softening upon seeing him. A kind smile spread over his lips as he spoke in a gentler voice, "Alistair?"

Her head snapped down to him, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Of course, it was him. How could she have missed those beautiful eyes of his? A grin spread over her face at how adorable he looked. With those puffy, dirt-streaked cheeks and messy blond hair.

"It's all right..." Maric continued, releasing a light chuckle. "Come closer. I promise I won't bite."

Alistair gripped the hem of his tunic and did as he was told.

But why am I seeing all this? Is this his dream or a memory? Puzzlement creased her brow as she watched him timidly step inside. She stayed by the doorway as he walked to stand next to a bearded, older man she recognized as the arl of Redcliffe before bowing respectfully to his monarch.

"You have grown much since I last saw you…" The king's voice carried a bit of sadness as he regarded the boy, mixed in with a hint of pride. "You are almost a man now."

"Th-Thank you, sire," Alistair replied, still too shy to look him in the eyes.

"He's being trained in sword fighting already. And I try to educate him in both history and politics," Eamon said, placing a hand on the youngster's shoulder. "He's quite smart when he sets his mind to it. Though he prefers playing in the fields or in the village. Oftentimes, I have to chase him throughout the castle just to get him to sit still long enough to listen to my lectures."

"Yes, that… sounds familiar." Maric smiled wistfully. As if thinking back to his own childhood memories. But instead of saying so, he grinned and smacked the shoulder of the older boy standing beside him, this one a tall teenager. "Cailan here is the same way, too. Not a day goes by that Loghain doesn't come to me with complaints about my son's constant efforts to avoid his lessons. Quite rebellious, this one."

"Father…" he muttered in irritation, his face turning a shade of red.

"King Cailan..." Everil whispered, observing him from afar. He didn't have the long hair from before he passed, but his features were the same. And as she watched the three standing in the same room, she realized how glaringly obvious it was that Alistair was King Maric's son.

Did he know this at this point? The innocent look in his eyes as he regarded his father told her otherwise. Arl Eamon must have been waiting for the right time to tell him. Perhaps when he was older.

A strange pull suddenly drew her eyes to a room at the far end of the passage, faint whispers beckoning her. She stared at it in puzzlement. What's this feeling? Is that where I need to go now?

Everil gave the great hall one last glance before warily approaching the door and reaching for the handle. She opened it, slowly looking around it to see what lay behind. It appeared to be the same room Alistair had been playing in before, only slightly changed. She entered, and this time, the door vanished behind her, leaving a wall in its place.

"No!"

"Alistair, please... This is for your own good," Arl Eamon tried to appease the raging child pacing before him.

"But I don't want to go!" a slightly older Alistair protested, voice breaking in anger. "Don't you care about me anymore?"

Eamon released a heavy sigh, following his movements. "Of course, I still care about you. I always will. However, your behavior has made it difficult to keep both you and Isolde under the same roof."

"But I didn't do anything wrong!" he yelled, a hand over his chest as bitter tears threatened to spill out of him. "It's her fault! She's always blaming me for everything and treating me bad!" A sob rocked his body, his shoulders shaking. He clenched his jaw, glaring at the floor. "I hate her…"

"Alistair…" the arl warned.

"I hate her!" he snapped at him. "I hate her! I wish she would disappear!"

A resounding slap cut off the argument. Everil stared in shock as the boy fell on his rear, the arl's hand reverting to his side. Alistair's astonished eyes slowly turned up to Eamon, betrayal tangible upon them as he shakily covered his burning cheek.

"I will... have the maids pack your things. You leave in the morning." Arl Eamon turned away and trudged out of the room, shoulders visibly slumped while he hung his head in shame.

Now alone, Alistair heaved shakily, finally registering what happened. He growled, forcefully pushing himself up on unsteady legs. "I hate her!" he screamed at the door, then with an anguished cry, tore a silver pendant from around his neck and threw it against the wall. The impact shattered it to pieces, the silver bits glistening as they hit the ground.

This is… He was only ten… Everil heart twisted as she watched him crumble into a heap of misery and rage. She could only imagine how he felt. Abandoned at birth and then cast aside again by the only man he ever thought of as a father.

She stepped closer and knelt as he wept, reaching for him in an attempt to console him. But in spite of her burning desire to hug him. To tell him everything would be all right. Her arms again went through him. This was yet another memory and there was nothing she could do for him now.

As with the prior dreams, the room faded around her, taking with it the weeping child. Everil rose as the blackness was gradually replaced by white stone walls and mosaic windows, their glass shining colorfully with the sun's rays. A tall ceiling hovered above, intricate chandeliers hanging from it in a perfect row. She swallowed the knot in her throat and willed herself to walk, wandering towards another door ahead as the urge to find the real Alistair drove her forward.

Everil opened it, crossing into what appeared to be a chamber of prayer. Statues of women dressed in Chantry vestments gazed upon her from each side, their hands clasped together in a silent chant. She could only assume they were past Divines, chosen leaders of the Chantry, immortalized in stone.

She headed further through the long hallway until she spotted the same child at the end. He was kneeling under a statue of Andraste, a candle slowly burning away in front of him. A familiar figure walked up to him, the Grey Warden armor glimmering brightly under the light as if he himself were holy. Behind the man was a woman of old age, the elaborate robes showing her status of Revered Mother.

The scene made little sense to her at first. Alistair mentioned Duncan recruited him just six months before they met. However, this version of him was but a child. It had to be Sloth's doing. Perhaps his way of making him feel powerless inside his own dream.

"You can't take him with you. He was given into the service of the Chantry by the Arl of Redcliffe," the Revered Mother barked at Duncan, unfazed by the man's imposing form. "Being a Templar is his chosen duty. The Maker demands it so."

The Warden-Commander shook his head and gestured towards Alistair. "Look at him, Your Holiness. The boy is miserable here. He does not wish for this life."

Disembodied whispers filled the room. There was malice in the words they spoke and in their occasional laughter. Undoubtedly more of the demon's work. Though, some of the wickedness came from human nature itself.

"Who does he think he is?"

"He's the arl's bastard son, that's who he is. A half-bred mabari has better blood than he does."

"Pathetic! Stop crying already! Just because your dad's a noble doesn't mean you're special."

Was this what he used to hear others say about him? Everil wondered with knitted eyebrows, sadly observing her fellow Warden's past self from a distance.

Alistair's lively attitude was non-existent as he knelt there, head down in a defeated posture. He'd once told her that he hated being in the monastery, now she could clearly see why. None of this had been his choice, yet he was forced to endure the cruelty of those around him with no one to shield him. With no one to protect him or comfort him.

"He's a strong warrior and wishes to join us," Duncan insisted. "He'll be of good use to the Grey Wardens. Let me recruit him."

"Absolutely not," the Revered Mother answered stubbornly, standing her ground.

"Then you leave me no choice…" He crossed his arms, meeting her glare with chilling eyes. "I hereby conscript Alistair into the Grey Wardens. He is mine to take now. We leave immediately."

"How dare you!" The woman's enraged voice resonated inside the room. "I should send my Templars after you for your transgression!"

"But you won't, for you are bound to comply with our Right of Conscription by King Maric's decree. Please do not interfere in our sacred duty to protect Ferelden from the darkspawn." He turned his back to her and approached Alistair as she glared daggers at the back of his head. She clenched her jaw and spun around, stalking away.

Duncan ignored her, reaching for his new recruit. "Come."

Alistair gazed up at him in wonder, tentatively taking his hand.

Everil's stare saddened as she watched the two of them. Seeing Duncan and getting recruited by him must have felt like a blessing to him. An opportunity to become part of something important when he had no prior purpose before.

The same, strange pull again tugged at her being, causing her to look towards another door at the side of the chamber. It opened on its own for her, silently demanding her presence. Her feet moved towards it, responding to its summons.

Everil found herself in an old fortress when she finally walked through. It was slightly worn from ages of exposure, yet still grand and imposing. Tall griffon statues lined her path, flaming torches burning between them while illuminating the hall that stretched out before her. She looked ahead, seeing two shapes in the distance. Her eyes regarded them with suspicion as she went to them, her footsteps unusually loud in the wide chamber.

She came to a stop before the two figures, hands closing tightly. The child form of Alistair was standing next to Duncan, blankly staring off into space. He wore only a plain white tunic, his small form much more vulnerable than that of the Alistair she remembered.

"Ah, you've arrived," greeted the late Warden-Commander. "Welcome to Weisshaupt Fortress, the Grey Warden's primary headquarters in the Anderfels. Thank you for joining us as we prepare to celebrate our victory against the darkspawn."

"What are you talking about?" Everil questioned moodily, already aware that this was not her late mentor.

"Alistair has helped our order eradicate the darkspawn. He followed me and the other Wardens as we invaded the deep roads and set their underground lairs ablaze," he spoke with blatant pride, a smile over his bearded face. "They are no longer a threat to humanity. Ferelden is safe. And we will live on in peace, just us brothers and sisters."

"Lies... Just as all the others before. None of what you said is possible. The darkspawn have controlled the deep roads since the first Blight. There is no way to eradicate them all." She gave the familiar a dirty look and reached for the boy. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be taking my friend now."

The fake Duncan smacked her hand away, his kind gaze turning murderous.

"Let him go," Everil demanded, meeting his glare with one of her own.

"His Templar mind has allowed me to take complete control of his memories and desires. He wishes for a loving family… The one he never had." He put on a wicked, uncharacteristic grin. "I have given this to him and he is happy here. You wouldn't dare take his happiness away, would you?"

"This happiness you offer isn't real…" She glowered at him, drawing her blades in two fluid motions. "Now, release him this instant!"

"No, mortal. The Templar's soul belongs to my lord," Duncan drew his sword and dagger, his voice distorted by an evil one beneath. "And you shall be punished for your interference!"

He lunged at her, letting out a monstrous roar. Everil blocked his sword, parried it away, and thrust. He rolled sideways and onto a knee, swiftly striking upwards. A clank was heard as she struck at it at the last second, backing away from him as he shot up, leading with his dagger.

She sidestepped, evading him before spinning on one foot and bringing Elethea around to the back of his neck. He reached back and blocked with his blade without facing her, then whirled about, striking at her. Sword and dagger clashed, the hit forcing her away several steps, the strength of his hit breaking her defenses. The fake Duncan then slashed, scratching her breastplate while she retreated, clicking her tongue in annoyance at how close he'd gotten to cut her.

He laughed at her, glowing red eyes filled with mirth. "I am not like the others you fought, Warden. I am Sloth's most powerful servant. An extension of my master. As such, I can use your minds and emulate anything and anyone." He glanced briefly towards Alistair, chuckling darkly. "Your friend's memories tell me exactly how this Duncan fought. And it appears that you were inferior to him."

"You're still nothing but a copy," Everil countered, flipping her dagger before dropping into her battle stance once more. "You can never be as great as he was!"

She shot forth, crying out while going for a downward slash. A clash sounded out like a mighty clap of thunder when her sword connected with his. Their blades met again, and again, the clashes resonating in a violent storm inside the grand hall.

Anger was all she could feel towards this creature and its master as they battled for dominance. How dare Sloth toy with her and her friends? How dare he use their emotions, their loved ones, and their memories against them?

A cry escaped her as she brought her blades down upon him, swinging with all her might. The familiar grunted as he blocked and their weapons were locked once again. He shoved against her, throwing her off balance and following through with a horizontal slash. But she was faster this time and crouched, dodging the attack while swiping at his feet with a kick.

Duncan leaped and landed a few feet away, laughing hoarsely at her inferiority. "Give up, girl! You cannot defeat me!"

"Shut up and die!" She rushed at him, flipping her sword backward while sprinting at full speed.

He growled and swung in a low sideward strike as she came, but Everil dropped to her knees and slid, his sword slicing a few hairs from the top of her head. She brought her reversed blade with her in a wide-arched slash, her body drifting over the floor as she used her momentum to cut through.

The demon shrieked in agony as light poured from its open wound. Then its body exploded, bursting into a green fog that spread and steadily dissipated. Its screams died out along with it, leaving nothing behind.

Everil got on her feet, panting heavily while glaring at the now empty spot. She released a heavy breath and solemnly sheathed both weapons. "Let the dead rest in peace…"

"Alone…"

A sad voice drew her attention to the child, who was gazing at her with an anguished expression. "I'm… all alone," he choked out, hunched over as if the pain were weighing him down. "Why couldn't I have a family like everyone else?"

"Alistair…" she called softly, going to him and seeing he wasn't waking up. What's happening…?

"He is mine, Grey Warden." Sloth's voice spoke to her again, invading her thoughts. "You cannot save him, for his own self-pity keeps him within my grasp."

"What...?" Her heart dropped like a brick at the demon's words. "No..."

"Why does it have to be this way?" the child whimpered, rubbing tears from his flushed cheeks as they continued to flow in an endless waterfall. "I'm the bastard nobody wants! The bastard no one gives a damn about!"

Each sob that escaped him brought heartache to her chest. She couldn't stand seeing him this vulnerable. This broken and alone. She had to save him. She had to break him free no matter the cost.

"It's all right…" Her arms encircled his smaller frame, and this time, she was able to draw him to her. "I'm here…"

In spite of her words, Alistair didn't seem to register her presence, his arms still limp at his sides. He continued to wallow in his own misery, his voice drenched in self-loathing as he sobbed uncontrollably into her shoulder. "I'm all alone… All the people... I knew rejected me. Cast me... away as if I didn't matter."

"No…" she whispered, gently stroking his back. "I realize this was real once before, but it's not anymore. Sloth is making you feel these things to keep you trapped. You need to wake up."

"You are nothing, Alistair." The demon returned, his voice this time echoing inside the hall as he pulled on the strings in the boy's mind. "You are nothing but an unwanted child left to be forgotten. No one cares about you. Not even your own father!"

"Nobody cares..." the child repeated brokenly. "Everyone abandons me…"

"No!" Everil interjected. "There are people who do care. This thing is ly—"

"You are meaningless. Useless!"

"I am useless…"

"Don't listen to him!" She closed her eyes firmly, holding him tighter. "You are not—"

"You should have died instead of Duncan!"

"Duncan… Oh, Duncan...!" Alistair released a grief-stricken wail. "Ferelden would've been better off if you'd lived instead of me!"

"Stop it! Stop it, that's not true!" Everil fiercely shook her head, tears threatening to spill out of her. "I needed you, damn it! I don't know what I would've done had you not been there with me when all of this began!" Her voice shook with emotion, her words an open confession she prayed for him to hear. "You're my friend and I care about you! I care about you too damn much to ever leave you as others did! So, please… Please break free of this bastard's hold and come back to me, Alistair!"

At that moment, he froze and the crying ceased.

Seconds ticked as time seemed to drag around them.

Then a powerful wind surged upwards from beneath them, drawing a gasp out of her. It enveloped them like a vortex, causing her to grip his clothes out of both fear and desperation. Maker, she didn't want to lose him too. She couldn't let that cursed thing take him as her family was ripped away from her.

The howling and churning whirlwind continued for a moment too long, rising up to the skies. And then as quickly as it came, it was gone. Everything went silent once more. Yet in spite of the calm, she wouldn't dare look.

Until a pair of strong arms enveloped her.

"Everil…"

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of his much deeper voice. With an anxious frown, she hesitantly pulled away to finally meet the gentle stare of the Alistair she knew. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him, seeing him now as a man, clad in his shining, Grey Warden armor.

"I heard every word..." he murmured, his lips spreading into a weak smile. "Thank you…"

Her heart was jumping with both relief and excitement when she boldly hugged him again. She pressed her cheek to his broad chest, relishing the feeling of the cool steel against her skin. Maker, she could touch him. She could hear him! This was the real him!

"Woah…" He blinked and chuckled a little before slowly returning her embrace. "You know, I could get used to this sort of greeting."

"Are you all right...?" Everil whispered, ignoring his jest this time as she clung to his cloak.

"Yeah…" He rested his chin atop her head, his expression softening upon hearing the concern in her tone. "I'm fine… Though, to be honest, I'd feel a lot better if we got out of here."

She sighed. "I agree… But it looks like you'll be going back ahead of me."

"Huh?" Alistair withdrew enough to look at her, seeing the world around them was beginning to vanish along with her. She had a brave smile on her face, which only unnerved him even more. "Wait…" he called, dread gripping his chest. "What's happening?"

"I'll meet you out there soon. Just wait for me," she assured him, stepping out of his arms to wink at him.

But her words did little to reassure him as everything turned to black, her form also disappearing before his eyes.

.x.x.x.x.

Everil stood before the last mirror, one she saw was for her hound by his reflection gazing up at her. She stepped through it and was greeted by an all too familiar room. Straw dolls lay forgotten on the furs covering the floor as violet drapes hung from the windows, the moonlight filtering through giving them a pinkish hue. It was her childhood room. Her world before swords and battle drove her away from the frivolous things most noble girls enjoyed.

A slight whine drew her eyes towards her old bed, where a young girl still slept soundly.

Bjorn sat protectively at the foot of the bed, guarding the child.

"Hi, boy…" Everil stepped closer, smiling lovingly at him.

His ears perked up as he gazed at her, curiously cocking his head to the side.

She knelt before him, her fingers reaching to scratch behind his ears. "I get it… You're happiest when you're protecting me."

He nuzzled her palm, his adoring gaze still over her. This was the human he knew. The one he would protect, no matter the cost. The Sloth creature had tried to trick him. To break his will and drive him into believing its lies. But although he'd sought to keep the child on the bed safe, he knew the real one would come for him.

The Warden's smile widened. This mabari hound had been her companion since both of them were but pups. He was her partner in crime. Her confidant. No one could ever get between them. Not even a powerful demon.

She wrapped her arms around him, stroking the back of his head. "Thank you, Bjorn. You've always been there for me. I love you, boy."

Bjorn gave her a soft lick on the cheek, whining lightly as he began to vanish. He snuggled closer to her, clinging to her for as long as he could. Whatever was happening was not good. He wanted to stay with her. To shield her from whatever evil was keeping them in this place.

"Don't worry... I'll be right behind you," she whispered reassuringly at him. "Just keep the party company for me."

One last whine escaped him and he was gone.

Everil rose to her feet. She now had to find her own way out, but first, there was a score to settle.

"Quite impressive, mortal. But while you have taken away my meals, your soul will surely be the most delicious." Sloth chuckled darkly, the rough edges of his voice scratching at her mind. "I will enjoy hearing your screams as I devour you from the inside. Slowly. Until an empty shell is all that's left of you."

The Warden ignored it, determination set upon her features as she made her way out of her hound's dream.

A large mirror dominated the center of the platform now, rising above her while beckoning for her to enter it. She stepped closer, eyeing the dark, rippling surface as its presence reached into her chest and squeezed. Any demon with the ability to create dreams, alter memories, and trap people in its own personal playground would surely be a force to be reckoned with. But in spite of her fear, she would face this creature and make it pay for meddling with their minds.

Everil set her jaw and stepped through the portal.

The world on the other side was barren and cold, with spires of bone and rock all around. It was another island floating in a void, the swirling clouds endlessly brushing against it. She shivered involuntarily, her feet crunching over the rock as she trekked towards the center of the island. An archway emerged in her path, leading to what appeared to be the ruins of an old temple.

She entered and her gaze immediately fell upon the being waiting for her inside.

"You should have submitted yourself to me," it spoke through a permanent grin over its ashen face, its robes flowing around it as it hovered menacingly over the ground. It lacked a nose, lips, and ears, while its eyes were also covered by a cloth. Yet although there were no expressions visible, Everil could hear the sneer in its voice. "You would have remained happy instead of dying like this. I could have offered you eternal bliss."

"Oh, I will feel bliss, all right..." The Warden drew her blade and aimed it at the demon, hiding her trepidation behind her anger. "When I end your miserable existence!"

Sloth cackled in amusement at her threat, rotating his shoulders. "I will so enjoy this..."

Everil circled him, measuring him up while pulling out her dagger. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned over him. He was something from another realm, but everything had a weakness. He would die just like any other enemy.

"Come!" he roared.

And she did, kicking forth with a cry of her own. She swung Elethea, but he easily dodged, floating sideways like a specter. He slashed at her with his claws, aiming for her head. She struck upwards, deflecting the hit. Then Sloth swung again, making her duck to avoid the attack. She came up swinging with her sword, going for the creature's neck, only for him to easily catch the blade and stop her in her tracks.

Everil clenched her teeth, her arm shaking as she struggled to pull her weapon free of his grasp. But he only chuckled darkly, unconcerned by the blood dripping from his hand. "You are nothing!" He picked her up and flung her as if she were weightless, sending her soaring a few feet. She landed hard, tumbling over the ground and nearly losing her weapons.

"Ugh, blast…" she grunted, pushing herself up on her hands and knees while the demon began to summon its magic.

He raised his arms, bringing about a gust of wind that began to swirl around it. "You die here, Warden!" Sloth roared, the gust quickly turning into a powerful blizzard.

Shit! Everil quickly rose and sprinted to a pile of rocks, leaping over it just as it froze behind her. Shards of ice began to form at the edges of her cover as the storm raged on, growing ever closer to her and threatening to freeze her. The frigid bite in the air caused her to quiver as she panted heavily, breathing out white smoke.

Sloth laughed. "This is my world, human! You will freeze no matter where you run!"

I have to do something…! She bit her lip, running ideas through her head. Shivering violently, she shifted in her spot and looked over the edge. Her eyes focused on the direction in which the hale was blowing and she weighed her options.

"Nothing you do will stop me!" Sloth roared, cackling madly. "When I'm done with you, I'll move on to consume the rest of you mortals! Starting with your friends!"

Everil took a knee and sheathed her blades before drawing her bow. She licked her bluing lips, her joints beginning to ache as the cold pierced through her. Pushing through the pain, she got on her feet before hoisting herself up to stand atop the pile of rocks. The wind made her hair whip about as she drew an arrow with numbed fingers. She took aim.

"You truly think you can hit me with that?" he mocked.

Her eyes narrowed and she turned the tip of the arrow to the side, angling her shot. "Yep!"

She released the arrow, sending it flying through the storm. The current changed its course, diverting it towards the demon. It hit its mark and Sloth howled in pain, the blizzard instantly dispelling as his concentration was broken. She quickly put away her bow and drew her sword before hopping off her perch. The Warden charged, crossing the distance to the demon now gripping the arrow stuck in its chest.

Her sword penetrated flesh and blood gushed over her. She twisted her weapon, driving it further into his chest as Sloth released a wail of agony.

"N-No! H-How…!" He fell on his knees before her, shaking hands grabbing her blade.

"I hope that tasted good to you..." she hissed breathlessly and put her boot on him, shoving him off her sword and to the ground.

"Curse… you…" he croaked, crimson pooling beneath him as he wheezed.

Everil watched him die, swinging her weapon clean before sheathing it at her hip. It was finally over.

"Good work."

Her head snapped to a male voice coming from above. He was floating down towards her, his robes swaying with an unnatural wind. His kind eyes were upon her, his body having no trace of the injuries he'd been inflicted before.

"Niall..." she called, surprised to see him.

He nodded, smiling a little. "You did what I could not. You broke free of Sloth's hold and defeated him in the process."

"I couldn't have done it without you." She offered him a friendly grin of her own. "With the demon dead, I assume we'll be waking up from this nightmare."

"You will shortly… Me, on the other hand..." he trailed off and shook his head, sighing mournfully. "I will not be joining you."

Her brow creased. "What…? But I defeated Sloth..."

"I'm dying… Sloth used my life force to fuel your dreams. There is nearly nothing left of me... I can't even reclaim my body in our own realm."

"I'm… so sorry..." she whispered with downcast eyes, her heart heavy in her chest. This man saved her life and, in turn, had also saved her friends. And yet she was unable to do the same for him. It simply wasn't fair.

"Don't be…" A reassuring hand came to rest on her shoulder as he gazed at her, acceptance over his youthful features. "I was never meant to save the Circle. You, however, have proven to possess the strength to do so. When you awaken, take the Litany of Adralla from my body. Use it to save the Circle from Uldred and his blood mages. Make them pay for what they've done."

"I will…" Her unwavering gaze met his. "You have my word."

Niall offered her one last smile. "Thank you… Goodbye… my friend."

Their bodies vanished, the world around them slowly fading away. And then there was darkness.

.x.x.x.x.

"I think she's waking up."

"'Tis about time."

"Oh, thank the Maker... The poor child."

The voices sounded muffled to her ears at first. Almost far away. And yet Everil already knew to whom they belonged. Consciousness came to her slowly and she became aware of the strong arm holding her, as well as of the cold, hard floor pressing against her hip. Her eyes cracked open and she squinted as Alistair's relieved features gradually came into focus.

"Hi…" she greeted him, smiling groggily.

"Hey, sleepyhead…" he quietly replied, then a playful grin spread over his face. "Welcome back to the Blight."

"Thanks... Still better than the Fade, though." She groaned lightly as he helped her sit up, her hand coming to rest over her aching head. "Is the abomination dead at least?"

"It is," Wynne replied from beside Alistair, gesturing to the downed creature. "You did well. Though, we were concerned about you. It took you a while to awaken."

Bjorn agreed with a whine as he nuzzled her cheek.

She gently petted him, scratching behind his ears. "I'm sorry I worried you all… That thing wasn't easy to defeat."

Everil huffed as she rose to her feet, then stepped over to Niall's body. A sad expression fell over her as she knelt beside it, gently retrieving the scroll from his frigid fingers. He sacrificed it all to give them this chance, and she wasn't about to waste it. Sadness turned to unwavering resolve as she stood and regarded her companions. "Come on. It's time to save the Circle."