The night before, the skies had been mercifully clear—for the first time since they'd left the mire, actually—and Finley and her companions had all been rather pleased to be able to say that they'd officially left the undead and dismal swamp behind.

That was what Warden Blackwall had called it, anyway.

Finley rather liked swamps. Sure, they could be a little hard to wander through, and yes, the undead had been awful, but the swamp itself had an odd sort of charm. The animals, the flowers, everything about it was so unique.

And swamps were always great for losing templars in, not that she'd needed to this time, of course. Still. There was definitely a fondness for them that stemmed from that simple fact that she couldn't help but appreciate.

Regardless, she was glad to leave the undead behind, and to have been reunited with Donovan.

And everyone shared in her better mood.

Sera was pleased that they'd helped the scouts. The whole lot of them had been astonished that the great Herald herself would come to their rescue, and Finley had been somewhat floundering for what to say when Sera had slung an arm over her shoulders and shrugged with her other, making some dramatic, vague motion around them. "She's good people, yeah? Just like you 'n me."

And that had, apparently, been all that was needed to be said. There had been a few more 'thank you's tossed about, but for the most part, they had all just become a rather large party, heading back to the nearest outposts. None of them had been averse to healing magic either, which had been a little trying, but fortunately there had been no grave injuries, and Finley was able to handle it well, with Solas and the Avvar, Sky Watcher, stepping in to assist to make the work go faster.

Blackwall was happy to have recovered lost Grey Warden artifacts, and had spent most of the trip back inspecting the different things—a banner and a book—and even offered to let Finley read as well. She'd been reluctant—the Order's secrets were supposed to stay within the Order, after all—but Blackwall had told her it was okay, and so she'd giddily spent a few evenings poring over the information with him, finding that most of it was a little droll, but still interesting. They'd found a journal about someone looking for ways into the Deeproads, and it didn't say much more than whether or not the places had been sealed.

Bull was thrilled because they received quite a few bird messages, from quite a few different people, and Finley had let him read them, when she knew they were safe to share. He'd made notes on how some of them seemed to have different flourishes in the feathers or shaped different birds—once a wasp—and was soon able to tell when she was getting a message from which mage. The one thing she didn't particularly care for was the way he made up names for the different mages when she wouldn't tell him their real ones.

It felt like he was keeping count, and that wasn't something she wanted anyone doing.

Truly, though, it seemed that her fellow apostates had all been waiting for proof that she was really herself and not the templars' latest trick to lure them out of hiding. With Donovan sending word that all was right and real, they'd opted to restore contact.

So far, she'd gotten twelve messages, from four of her fellow apostates, and had already gotten into an argument with an obstinate fool named Marcus who was apparently trying to encroach on her home in the Wilds.

While she didn't have a place she would stay indefinitely, there were a few spots in the Wilds that she tended to come back to, Donovan's home being one of them. The rest were old ruins and caves, with one cave being her favorite because it opened up onto a cliff and gave a rather stunning view of the forests around.

And apparently Marcus liked the view, too, and was planning on having Finley's personal affects 'sent her way'.

While she didn't doubt he'd trip a few wards and end up abandoning the idea, it still bothered her that he would be such an ass about it.

However, even his antics couldn't keep her down for long.

With so many messages coming her way—each first one had a bit of hair tucked into the leaves so that Finley could establish faster communication—it was impossible for the rest of her party to not notice. She'd been a little wary of that, but Blackwall hadn't seemed to care, Bull was already involved, and Solas had merely mentioned that he'd seen something like that used before, years ago.

Sera was the only one who wasn't fond of the leaf birds.

It scared Sera a little to see a bird fall apart into a note or a disembodied voice that whispered on the wind, but Finley had explained how the spell worked, making one or two birds herself to flit about and then fall apart. While Sera still didn't like the way they came undone at the end, she was to the point now where she'd simply point at one and say, "That one ain't right. One of yours, yeah?"

And it always was.

Sera had an incredible eye for magic. It made Finley wonder how she was so adept at picking it out—she was far better than any templar Finley had ever run across—but after trying to ask her about it twice only to have Sera get irritated and ask in turn if Finley was accusing her of having magic, Finley let the subject drop.

Solas had noticed Sera's unusual skill, as well, and had mentioned it quietly to Finley in the evening, the day before. However, he too had to give up on the curiosity of it when Finley assured him that Sera didn't want to talk about it.

He'd been more enthusiastic since Finley had come to him for help, as well, and it almost seemed as if seeing her use magic put him at ease.

She'd caught him watching her curiously a couple times. While it was strange—they were both mages, after all—he was still himself, so she thought little of it. If he were to be possessed, she would know.

Indeed, everything was pleasant, and the night had been clear, so Finley had taken the opportunity to sleep in one of the nearby trees.

It was a habit she'd taken up as a child—one that had taken more than a bit of practice and ended with more than a few scrapes and bruises. While it wasn't foolproof, she'd found that if she could hide herself away up high, templars and other unsavory wanderers were less likely to find her.

It also made it easy to spy on trespassers in the Wilds. There'd been more than a dozen times where she'd watched templars wander past her below, none of them ever the wiser that they'd missed a mage.

Seeing as it had been a while since she'd gone to bed in a tree, she nearly fell three times before she found her balance. She'd drifted off wondering how many more rifts were left to be sealed and if Commander Rutherford had ever slept in a tree.

Likely not.

Her dreams had been mercifully empty until the end, too. Just as they began to shift into twisting wretched things that imitated memories of the Conclave, though she doubted she could have seen everyone die as they had—hoped she hadn't really seen that—a gentle voice called her back into the waking world.

Sitting up, she was a little disoriented at first. However, as Solas said her name again, she glanced down and everything settled back into place.

This time, she was a little surprised that it didn't hurt as much to wake up in this twisted reality as it usually did. Perhaps it was just that she felt a little less alone every day. Or perhaps it was because she hadn't been under templar scrutiny in weeks.

She climbed down from her tree with ease, dropping the last few feet to land in front of Solas. Even as she brushed a twig from her shoulder, she met his gaze. "You called for me?"

"Yes." He smiled and then held out a hand, a small trinket in his palm. It was a tiny thing, easily mistaken for a stone of some sort. "I have a solution to your demon problem."

Eyes widening, Finley reached out tentatively and plucked the stone from his palm, holding it with great care. It whispered magic, old made new, and she turned it curiously as she inspected the spell. It was expertly done, though she couldn't quite get a feel for how she might do it herself.

"This will keep the demons at bay?"

"Demons?" Solas blinked, head tilting slightly. "You were just having a problem with one, were you not?"

Finley blinked, looking past the little trinket to the elf. With decent sleep and no templars to glare, she was considerably better about panicking after a slip up. With a shrug, she motioned to the little spell. "I thought, more like than not, the solution would be a generic one."

"Ah, no." Solas' smile returned. "When dealing with the Fade, it is always best to be as specific as one can be."

That made her cheerful mood waver. If the spell needed specifics, then she wouldn't be able to just copy it and make sure that her demon wouldn't be able to hurt people. "So you tailored it to block fear demons or…" She trailed off, trying to think of how one would even make such a spell. When she noticed his brow pinch together, she curled her fingers around the trinket, holding it closer. "I'm sorry. I've not had a lot of dealings with demons in dreams or manipulating the Fade. It's all quite new to me."

"You needn't apologize, Finley," Solas assured her, turning and heading back toward the campfire. "It has been my experience that very few dare tinker with the Fade. People are taught to fear it, and so it is left alone."

Though she considered that she'd never had any formal type of mage training to do such things, she supposed that seeing what that thing had done to her mother was certainly a type of learning experience. One that had indeed left her afraid of the Fade, namely because of what lurked in it.

The others were still asleep in their tents, with the light of dawn just barely beginning to paint the far horizon. Once she and Solas were seated comfortably—both of them were obviously more at home away from human settlements—he allowed himself a simple smile. "As I have told you, I wander the Fade in my sleep." When she nodded, he continued, gaze watching their fire flicker before dousing it with a wave of his hand. Finley barely noticed. "I hope you do not think it intrusive, but I followed your dreams to see what was drawn to them."

Finley paused. Like most mages, she was always at least semi-conscious during her dreams, and very much aware when something was watching her. Yet if Solas had come near, she hadn't felt a thing. Perhaps it was because he was another mage and not a demon?

"I did not pay attention to your dreams themselves, mind you," Solas continued, sounding ever so professional. "Merely, I honed in on the essence of your magic and inspected what came near."

That made her pause again. "And you found a fear demon?"

"I did." He nodded and pointed toward the stone. "That should keep him at bay, though if you continue to have nightmares, let me know. They may not all be his doing, but it is better to investigate than to underestimate a demon." He then motioned to a small stone already bound in twine around his wrist. "I will need to guard myself as well, seeing as I do believe I caught his attention with my wards."

Finley plucked a few taller stalks of weeds growing near their fire pit and with a flick of her wrist, they wound together to form a similar bracelet, the spell he'd made her held tightly in the weave.

He watched her for a moment before tilting his head. "That fear demon is a problem, I do not doubt, but there is another troubling you, isn't there?"

Finley found it hard to meet his gaze, but when she did, he didn't seem to hold any lust for power in his eyes. But then, Aubrey hadn't been like that at first, either.

"I did not meet the creature, but I could feel their essence around you. They have had an interest in you for a long time."

And there it was. The issue she'd hoped to avoid talking about all together. A part of her wanted to try to make something up. That part whispered that if Solas learned of her demon, he would want to study it or use it or…

Surely, though, someone as knowledgeable as he was about the Fade wouldn't make such a foolish misstep.

And not all mages were drawn in with that promise of power. Donovan hadn't been.

If her mental debate showed on her face, Solas made no sign of noticing it, instead waiting patiently for an answer.

"Usually, I am quite good at simply ignoring it. It's more of a problem when its interest leads it to other people to get to me," Finley finally confessed. She took in a slow breath, turning her attention toward the sunrise. Already, it didn't seem as spectacular as she'd been hoping.

"You asked for my help because you want to block that demon from someone else?" Solas surmised easily enough. "Who?"

"I don't know yet."

…-…

Two nights later, they had set up camp just off the road beside a small lake, and as the others set up camp, Solas and Finley headed off to gather firewood. As they wound their way through the woods beside the road, Solas paused to inspect a decently sized branch and then hefted it up, settling it into the crook of his other arm with a few others. "I'm afraid I must tell you something you won't wish to hear about your watcher."

Finley's gaze narrowed before he'd finished talking, and she slowed to a stop, appraising him carefully. When he didn't continue immediately, she shifted her weight. "Well, then?"

Rather than answer, he tilted his head. "You've never had much trouble with demons whispering to you, have you?"

"There's been a few," Finley murmured, shifting again. She didn't like where he was going.

"I think this creature has claimed you," Solas explained carefully. "They likely keep most demons at bay so that you don't hear them." Even as Finley's grip tightened around her sticks, he continued. "I have seen this happen in the past, when a demon wanted a person for themselves, or when a spirit sought to keep a dreamer safe."

"It's not a spirit, Solas. Maybe it was a long time ago," she amended, "but it has caused so much pain, so much damage—"

"I believe you," he offered, holding up his free hand to stop her before she could argue too far. "I believe that even had their intentions been pure in the beginning, what you have described is the work of a demon, and the essence that lingers in its wake is corrupted. Whether they started off as a misguided spirit or not, I think their purpose has been twisted to the point that they do not remember what they are supposed to be." He hesitated a moment before adding, "And I think that, based on their behavior, if they go after anyone, they will go after someone important to you. I doubt we need worry over the safety of mages you are unfamiliar with."

"When I was younger—" Finley cut herself off. She'd told Solas more of her personal demon the night before—that morning they'd been interrupted before she could get far when Sera had woken up and joined them, dismissing the 'magey' talk as boring nonsense she couldn't follow—and had been relieved that he didn't seem to want to use the demon, or to save it.

She'd cut herself off, however, because he had a point. When she was younger, the demon had possessed a few random mages, but it had steadily moved toward people she'd known, the last two being a lover and a friend.

If that was the progression, it seemed like trying to possess her might be the next step. Maybe it was done with other people…

And even if it wasn't, she wasn't in a relationship, and of her friends, there were only four who were close enough who were mages, Solas one of them.

Even as she wondered how she might explain to Dalish, Dorian and Lady Vivienne that they would need to guard against a particular demon—and wondered if they'd even really need to, considering as they were disciplined mages—Solas interrupted her musings with a question that made her heart almost stop.

"Have you tried confronting the creature?"

Staring at Solas, it took her a moment to fully process what he'd said. "It is a demon."

"A fact we have already established," Solas replied calmly. "It is also clearly a problem."

"We would have to go into the Fade to fight it," Finley asserted. "Into its domain. They are stronger in their domains, and it is plenty strong outside of that." Before she realized it, she was shaking her head. "I do not like fighting the demons we fight now, the ones mad from the rifts. I don't want to fight something that has its senses, something that is in its element. That would not be wise. I don't—"

"Finley," Solas snapped her name, his eyes wide. She fell silent, trying to fight the urge to run that was bubbling up inside of her. She shouldn't have told him about the creature. Things were going to get complicated and… "Finley," he repeated, taking a step toward her. "I think you have built this creature up to have more power than it does. If we faced it, you would see it to be weaker than you fear."

"I don't want to face it," Finley whispered. One of the sticks in her arms snapped. With a jump, she looked down to see that she'd been breaking them as he spoke. "I want it to leave me alone."

Solas stared at her for a long moment, clearly at a loss for words. Finley tried to keep her breathing even.

"This creature—"

Before he could finish, there was a cacophony of breaking branches and the pounding of plated footsteps heading their way.

Finley had halfway hauled herself onto a tree's low-hanging branches when the noise came to an abrupt stop. Looking down, she found a man standing not a foot from where she'd just been, metal boots crushing the sticks she'd dropped. He was a giant, easily dwarfing Solas, who had darted back as well and was just letting a thunder spell stall on his fingertips.

Whatever he was, he wasn't a templar, and that was what had stayed her flight.

The man's dark hair stuck out wildly from his head, though his beard was well-trimmed—almost as neat as Warden Blackwall's—and a bright red streak of something ran across his nose, from cheek to cheek.

His gaze darted from Solas and then around until at last he caught sight of Finley's still dangling foot and raised his gaze to meet hers. The second their eyes met, his brow pinched together and he shook his head, most disapproving. "My sister joined the wardens, and she won't tell me about the griffons, either!"

...-...

A/N: Thank you for reading!