Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.

Foul and corrupt are they

Who have taken His gift

And turned it against His children.

They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones.

They shall find no rest in this world

Or beyond.

Transfigurations 1, 7:13

They were not shy of making a fire that night – it was still unwise, but it strangely felt good to be unwise, if only for a few hours; deer a la Dalish proved a success, perhaps hasted on its way down by quite a few of the many kegs of ale and rum that the Chargers had somehow managed to carry on to the island.

It had turned out, that when it came to transportation to Seheron, relationships trumped money all the way. It was true, the Chargers and Sera had come to the island landing in Seheron only mentionable city and cutting it dangerously close to Par Vollen. It was also true that they had had much more ground to cover to reach Ath Velanis; on the other hand, they had made the crossing like kings, and, while on land, had had little to worry about from pirates and Tal Vashoth, because they were on exceptional terms with the former, and the latter had nothing to fear from them, so both had left them be.

They also looked as if, rum aside, they'd been carrying nothing of value; judging by how easily Red Jennies all over the continent had obtained the artifacts Radonis had pointed to, they might not even have been. The orb, the shield and the two swords had been literally gathering dust – the orb as a staircase ornament in Nevarra, the shield in the basement of an Orlesian chantry, and the two swords, crossed above the fireplace in a minor Grey Warden base. If anyone had ever known what these had once been, they'd all forgotten.

'Easiest marks ever!' Sera had proclaimed, once, one after the other, all but the original members of the band had retired to their bedspreads. 'Was harder to get at their breeches.'

'But you did get the breeches?' Dorian queried.

'Not in the Chantry, but for the rest of 'em, yeh,' the blonde elf said; Dorian laughed.

'Great,' he said. 'The thought of an entire fortress of pants-less Grey Wardens…'

'You're incorrigible,' Veldrin had theatrically sighed, admitting to herself that she, too found the thought amusing.

'And you're not drunk enough for a serious talk yet, boss,' the Bull said, refilling Veldrin's cup, and chuckling as her eyes widened in terror.

'I'm tipsy though,' she protested, then cast a pleading glance at Dorian. He shifted closer to her, but softly shook his head.

'You're on your own for this one, Amata,' he said, nonetheless putting his arm around her shoulders. The woman sighed.

'Alright,' Veldrin said, her glance shifting between Sera and Bull. 'I don't even where to start, so, maybe you guys should ask…'

'You two getting it on?' Sera queried, looking to Vel and Dorian with an expression that was half bewilderment, half insane amusement. Veldrin rolled her eyes.

'Creators, Sera! No, we're not – is that the first thing of importance that pops to mind?'

'Na, but it's the funniest,' the other elf replied. with a shrug. 'Cuz the other stuff ain't fun at all – like, how ya grew ya hand back, how ya turning into Coryphenus an'…'

'Why you did not tell any of us about any of this sooner,' Bull completed, his expression turning dead serious.

'I am sorry,' Veldrin whispered.

'That doesn't cut it, boss,' the Qunari said, shaking his head.

Veldrin lowered her glance to her cup, thinking that perhaps he'd been right in the first instance; she was not nearly drunk enough to answer that, yet. She drank it all in one go, feeling her eyes water at the taste.

'I would not have told you at all,' she slowly answered. 'I am unsure I am glad Dorian did, though it is so good to see you all again…'

She drew a deep breath. 'There are many things I could invoke,' Veldrin followed. 'I could say that secrecy was paramount, and that is why I dissolved the Inquisition in the first place; I could insult you and tell you I thought this was beyond your reach, as only Tevinter can hope to match his magic, but…'

Solas' last words to her spun in her mind, along with the rum. 'He said we should live well for as long as we have left,' Veldrin whispered, 'and I guess that is what I hoped you were all doing.'

'That's equally insulting,' the Qunari seriously replied. Sera solemnly nodded.

'Don't it strike ya that if ya'd spilled the beans sooner, ya wouldn't be turning bat-shit crazy on your own? Or, well…' Sera mumbled, giving Dorian the stink-eye.

'None of this is Dorian's fault,' Veldrin decisively refuted. 'He's fought my…eh, newly acquired talents tooth and nail.'

'Up to the point where I realised we truly have no conventional way of defeating Solas,' the Magister added, biting his lower lip. 'If I…if we,' he corrected, 'had thought for a minute that an arrow through the heart or an axe to the skull would stop him, we would have involved you all a lot sooner.'

'Alright,' the Bull said, with a smirk. 'That's slightly better than a simple apology, though not by a lot. Aren't glowy balls of death a bit too much in Solas' domain though?'

'I worry about this as well,' Veldrin replied, with a shrug.

'I don't,' Dorian said, shaking his head. 'If we look back on the year of the Inquisition knowing what we now know, the one thing that stands out is that Solas may be excellent at his ancient magic, and perhaps none of us is his match; still, this is a man that has slept through the entire history of Tevinter and he understands very little about us. He would not have underestimated Corypheus otherwise.'

'I think he can handle his foci,' the Magister followed, 'but I don't think he can handle somnaboriae to the same extent. Tevinter may have stolen Elvhenan's magic, but we've also transformed it, and taken it a different path than the Elvhen themselves might have…'

'Yeh, yeh, all the way up to the Golden City, an' all the way down to the effing Blights,' Sera smirked.

'You'll laugh – or not,' Dorian shrugged, 'but that is a very valid point, and one that works in our favour. Solas slept though the fall of Arlathan; he slept though the corruption of the Golden City. He has magic we don't understand, but we have magic he doesn't understand, either.'

'None of this is makin' me feel better,' the blonde elf mumbled.

'Drink more,' Iron Bull absent-mindedly said, his entire attention consumed by Dorian and Veldrin.

'Easy for you to say, innit,' Sera replied, with a horrible scowl. 'Ain't like ya came all the way here holding Lukakasan's Eye an' Dumat's wrinkly jewels an' spine and shit, an' not knowin' you were, for fuck's sake!'

'Drink a lot more,' the Qunari sighed. 'So, what is the plan?' he asked, leaning forward.

'Nothing,' Veldrin said, suddenly feeling frightened. 'You go home.'

'…and hold our balls, waiting to see if the sky will fall in or not? Nah,' the Bull refuted simply.

'Bull, please,' Vel said, 'if I had my way I would not even have involved Dorian or Maevaris. I don't want to put you in the way of this.'

'But it ain't you putting anyone in the way of anything, innit?' Sera shot. 'It's Solas, or Fen'Hassel, or whatever his name is – betcha ya guys did it doggy style more often than not, eh?'

'Sera…' Dorian warned, his expression suddenly turning to concern.

'Well, I was right 'bout the 'Elvhen glory!' part, now, wasn't I?' the blonde snarled.

'You were,' Veldrin acidly replied, though Dorian had opened his mouth to speak before she did. 'You were also right about the rebuilding the empire part; the only thing you were wrong about was the dropping 'em and bumping bits, which to my confessed great dismay, never happened.'

Sera cranked her nose. 'Like, never-ever?'

'Yes, like never-ever; we did make out very creatively, however, and I did near-climax when he tore my arm off.' Vel furiously responded.

'Easy, boss,' Bull said, inching back slightly; it was obvious, however, that mastering himself and not drawing had taken great effort. For a split second, Veldrin did not understand why, yet Sera jerked back in fright too.

'It's alright,' Dorian said. Unlike the others, he simply tightened his grip on her shoulders.

'What…' Veldrin began to ask, shaking her head. 'Why are you all of a sudden…'

…scared of me…

She knew why, though; she felt it in every fiber of her body…she'd just hoped against hope that…

'Because your eyes are glowing red, Amata,' Dorian soothingly whispered. 'And because…'

He did not need to end the sentence; he merely guided her glance towards the place where they'd stacked their weapons – twenty feet off and with no need for physical contact, the somnaborium was flaring in fierce focus as well.

'Oh Gods,' Vel whispered, dropping the cup to hide her face in her hands, and hastily standing to stumble away from her friends. 'I am sorry, I am so sorry…I have to…'

She had no strength to finish the phrase; all she could think of was putting one foot in front of the other and walking off as fast as she could. When she was away from the firelight, and alone in the darkness of her regrets, she fell to her knees, embraced a tree and wept.

Around the fire, the other three sat in silence for a few long moments. Sera found her voice first.

'Andraste's cunt,' she said – neutrally, for she was still too shocked to lend her tone any inflection.

'Yes,' Dorian agreed, in an equally neutral tone. 'You can say that.'

The Qunari warrior bit his lower lip. 'Does that happen often?' he asked, oddly sounding the least phased of them all. Dorian shook his head in response.

'It's the first time I see it, but I have been expecting it for some time.' he answered. He pressed his fingers to his forehead. 'I could explain to you why it technically happened now,' Dorian tiredly followed. 'Self-control lowered by the rum, Sera sticking her fist into an open wound and twisting it, the intensity of the spell last night, the power of the focus object, but…'

'I don't wanna hear it,' the blonde elf breathed, darting to her feet. 'I fucking don't. Shit.'

'Then it is, perhaps, for the best if you do leave,' Dorian said, smiling sadly.

'Are you?' Iron Bull bluntly asked; the Magister looked on his wife's trail, then shook his head.

'No.'

'Even though this can only get worse,' the Qunari said. It was not a question.

'Precisely because of that,' Dorian nodded. 'She is still our Veldrin, and she has not done this to herself for entertainment.'

'And you are not afraid of her,' the Bull said. This was not a question, either.

'I actually find myself feeling oddly proud,' the Magister replied, narrowing his eyes.

Sera looked to them both, then ran her fingers through her short hair with enough rage to yank out a fistful. She too looked on Veldrin's trail, with an unreadable expression, then slowly sat back down, and refilled her ale keg with rum.

'Well, shit,' she said. 'I can't freaking believe…I am doing this. Again. What the fuck do we do if she turns? Eh? Have either of ya ballsy heroes considered that?'

Dorian helplessly shrugged. 'If she turns before we face Solas, or during, we lose our world to Solas' Elvhenan. If she turns in the aftermath…We have slain plenty of abominations before, Sera.'

'Only,' the Bull interrupted, 'this one would be our Veldrin. Your Veldrin, Kadan.'

The Magister stared blankly into the fire. 'If she does turn, she will not be that anymore.'

'So, what's the plan?' the Bull asked, resting his elbows on his knees and breaking the long silence which seemed to have encased them in granite.

Then, Dorian told them – the Iron Bull drank his keg to the bottom, with deliberate slowness; Sera cursed.

Neither walked away.

Hello all, and sigh, that was coming, and I guess we all knew it.

We shall be slowing down a bit on the posting. This time Abstract to blame, for she is out on a mission to turn herself into Rambo and out-army IVI in North Wales (Loads of sheep out here, people! erm, but not many people...), but we shall be seeing you next Monday, same demonic possession time, same demonic possession channel.

Thank you all for reading and commenting!

Cheers,

Abstract & IVI