A/N: Sorry that it's been forever. Kind of got in a major writing rut. Trying to get out of it now.

...-...

"Andraste's tits, but it feels like we've been here for years," Varric muttered as he kicked at a dimly glowing stone.

"Maybe not years, but months, certainly." Dorian would have liked to call it strange or unusual, but alas. Here in the Fade the damned things were everywhere, and-despite Solas 'expert' navigation skills-it seemed like one of them was tripping over the damned stones at least every few minutes.

Despite wondering if they could gauge how long they'd actually been there by tallying the number of times that each of them had tripped, Dorian quickly dismissed the idea. It would take too long, and he didn't doubt that they'd all given up counting their own missteps.

While the Fade was still unnerving-turning a corner to walk into a Pride demon did have a way of affecting one's mood-it was hard to be outright terrified of the place.

Yes, it was the place that the magisters had supposedly tainted the Golden City-the twisted version hung in the sky as a ghostly reminder, no matter which way one looked-and yes this particular part of the Fade was some ancient demon's lair.

However, Solas was so quick to explain what he could and then there was their ever so faithful spirit guide.

Finley seemed absolutely terrified of the creature. Dorian wasn't sure why, exactly. While it made sense to be wary, Finley lost nearly all her color and looked as though she would faint every time she saw the woman.

Spirit. Thing. Whatever it was.

Solas had explained that they were likely all seeing the spirit a little differently, based on perception, sort of like how the skittering little fear demons were different.

Dorian saw...well, his father, among others, there to berate and claim him, ready to change him yet again for 'falling short' in his father's eyes.

When asked, however, he'd echoed Blackwall's comment. "Spiders."

After that, everyone had agreed that that was what they saw. It seemed no one was willing to say the things that really made their skin crawl.

Well, except for Finley of course. She'd judged them rather harshly, especially when Garrett had pointed out that spiders were kind of creepy. Maker, but she did loathe that man.

"Templars," had been her response when asked, and she had made it clear she would harbor no conversation on the matter.

So they fought through 'spiders' and 'templars' and the occasional demon.

And their guide would come and assist from time to time, and Dorian found it a bit of a reprieve.

Whatever Finley saw, it must have been far from how the rest of them perceived the creature.

Dorian saw the Divine, or at least what he imagined she would have looked like. The robes were grander than the revered mothers he'd seen and she was elderly. It had made sense when he'd first seen her. After all, if Finley was indeed the Herald of Andraste, surely a spirit of the faith would come help them.

However, when they'd first met her, Blackwall had leaned over to Solas and asked if the spirit looked a little like Finley. Like an older version of her, a relative maybe.

Solas had bade him hush before Finley heard, and the warden had dropped the subject completely.

It did leave Dorian wondering, however.

The spirit insisting on guiding them the scenic route, saying that there were things that Finley had lost that must be reclaimed, and while Finley had seemed ready to abandon whatever it was, Solas had spoken to her quietly and in the end, they'd followed.

Though it had tried to talk to Finley at first, in the end the Divine, or whoever she was, had spoken to the group, bidding them onward and keeping them safe from most of the stronger demons.

Alas, what they sought was well guarded.

They'd been brought to little lights, lonely hovering in the air as demons wandered around.

Upon touching the first one, their world was illuminated with a memory, a fragment of what had happened on the fateful day of the conclave, what felt like an eternity ago.

…~...

Finley looked positively out of place, eyes pure blue and wide with an innate terror that couldn't be cloaked with any spell.

Nevertheless, she slipped further into the room, searching the room for something.

Someone?

Dorian could recall hearing that she'd been there to meet with a circle mage.

As she scanned the crowd, something seemed to click in her mind and she abruptly fell back to the wall, snaking along it and heading further into the temple. As she reached a hallway near the back of the main chamber, a voice interrupted her.

"You there!"

Finley whirled around to face a templar, a woman who stood easily a head taller than the small mage. Finley's hands went instinctively to where her braid normally was, though she'd put her hair back in a simple ponytail at the nape of her neck-she looked almost civilized. Josephine would have been pleased with the attempt.

"What Circle are you from?" the templar demanded.

Finley tensed. "What need you know that for? There are no more Circles."

"I-"

A sister hurried over to them, quick to stop any fighting before it could start. Finley played terrified-or perhaps simply was terrified-and the sister turned on the templar, chastising them and warning not to start anything the Divine present.

By the time the women turned back to Finley, she was gone.

…~...

No sooner had the memory finished playing, a deep voice had been in their heads, booming as though it was both within and without, ever present.

"Now, now. What do I have here? I'd never realized, but you do look so much like your mother. You could even say you're walking the exact. Same. path. Little Lamb."

The last words were mocking, and even as Finley flinched, their guide had seemed ruffled as well.

Rather than address the voice, she motioned for them to hurry, turning to light and shooting ahead. "We must make haste. He knows where you are now."

And know the Nightmare did. He spoke to each of them in turn, voice echoing out, baring fears to the whole party.

Well, Solas' was in elvhen, of course.

Lucky bastard.

At least most of them seemed to have parent issues, so it wasn't necessarily surprising. Embarrassing, but perhaps they could get over it with a good wine once they were out of here.

…~...

The second memory picked up right where the first left off. Finley wound her way through halls until she couldn't hear the murmur of voices anymore.

Then, she slipped into an unoccupied side room and barricaded the door. She scrawled anti magic detection wards across the walls. They were both simple to draw and incredibly precise. He'd seen magisters use spells of this calibre in Tevinter. That Wilds apostates could come up with the same sort of thing was mildly impressive.

The south continued to surprise him.

When she had spent a bit longer than most anyone else would have warding the room, she scrawled out another spell on the floor. Raising her hands up as though lifting something, light swirls of magic curled through the air between her hands.

It moved awkwardly and though Dorian couldn't hear very well, he thought he could barely make out an old woman's voice.

Finley shook her head in response to whatever had been said. "I can't find her. There's too many people here and I...I don't know what she looks like. You never told me. And even if she's here...there's so many people."

Those swirls of magic moved again, the woman's voice came through. Dorian stepped closer, trying to hear. As though getting closer to the focal point of the memory would actually help.

...Would it?

Regardless of if it actually helped, he was hardly the only one inching forward. Only Finley-the real Finley-seemed rooted to where she was.

"No, I...I'm trying. Did you...do you know what she looks like?" The spell moved, the voice whispered a reprimand. "I asked another mage about her, but they wanted to know what she looked like. I can't just ask for Sister Pernice if it's clear I don't actually know her." She hunched lower, glancing toward the door as though she expected it to get kicked in. "There are templars everywhere. They'll know I don't belong here. They probably already do."

The voice started to say something again, but before it could finish its directions, something that sounded like a scream sounded from outside of the room.

In a blink, the spell was gone and Finley was on her feet, staring at the door with certainty that it would be kicked in any second.

No army of templars came breaking through the door, however.

Instead, another scream sounded.

Quick and quiet, Finley moved the furniture away from the door and slipped back into the hall.

…-...

It felt so invasive, to be watching these lost memories as Finley regained them.

Everything about the Fade was invasive.

And wrong.

As the Nightmare taunted them again, the world shifted, and for the first time Dorian was acutely aware that something was dragging him through the Fade.

Before he could even fear that they would be separated again, the world around them stopped moving abruptly. Runes lit up the floor underneath them from various spells, including one Dorian hadn't even realized he was casting.

However, even their collective effort had done little to save them, for as he looked up, he found something standing...over them that could only be described as what he knew it had to be: a nightmare.

No.

The Nightmare.