The first of the Maker's children watched across the Veil

And grew jealous of the life

They could not feel, could not touch.

In blackest envy were the demons born.

Erudition 2:1

'Bloody hell!' Sera screamed; reading his leader's mind, Krem barred her way, decisively placing himself between the nervous elf and the insane chamber that was going even madder around them.

The Bull nodded, almost only to himself.

There was no doubt that they had reached the room the mages had wanted them to find – floor to ceiling book cases lined the walls, threatening to collapse under the weight of hundreds of tomes. The room itself looked as if none had entered it for decades, which, the Qunari told himself, was probably a good indication that Veldrin and her fellow mages would find what they were looking for, once they reached it…because, the Bull thought, looking about himself, there was a snowball chance's in hell likelihood that he would be able to discern what they wanted.

At least getting Veldrin and Dorian to the library would not be a challenge; whatever force was milling in the upper layers of the fortress had had no interest in this room, or had simply feared to approach it, for their footsteps were the only traces of disturbance in the gathered dust. The challenge, the Bull told himself, would be returning to the mages they'd left behind, and not slapping them too hard for whatever they were doing.

Because they were definitely doing…something.

All around them, shards of translucent glass had suddenly lifted to the air, and begun spinning; those that lay beneath the desiccated corpse of what must once have been a human tore right through it, scattering bone and parchment-like skin.

'We should have taken one of the mages,' the Qunari dryly observed, consciously refusing to be phased. 'I see what's happening but I don't feel shit.'

'Plus we can't carry the whole of the library back with us,' Skin replied, in an equally dry tone. 'Fuck knows what books they want from here…'

'Yeh,' the Bull agreed.

The shards of glass spun faster and tighter, already re-forming the ague shape of a sphere under the pull of unseen forces, yet nothing else moved. The hurricane that was driving them was moving nothing else; the pages of open, scattered books remained motionless.

'Whatever they are doing, it's either going very well or horribly wrong,' the Qunari said. 'Sera,' he distractedly added, not looking away from the shards' dance, 'you remember the tremendously stupid thing Varric did that Mae warned us of?'

'Fuck you,' Sera spat, her arrow aimed and her bow tensed.

'Well,' the Bull said, 'you're about to do it, too. Don't know how you all feel about it, but I think shooting at the glowy ball of death and sending us into the fade is a really bad idea. Krem.' He said, and speaking the rest of the order was unnecessary. His lieutenant grabbed Sera from behind, pulling her arms back and making her drop her weapon – she fought, but it was all to no avail, as the Charger was taller, heavier and armoured.

'It's pulling itself back together!' Sera pointlessly screamed, kicking at Krem's shins. 'That thing is putting itself back fucking together…'

''s'all good,' the Qunari evenly said. 'It will be the only thing in this room we can carry back.'

Though whether doing so was a good idea, only the silence of the Qun knew.

Ignoring the orb that was now gathering definite shape above his head, Iron Bull kneeled by the side of the scattered corpse.

'Who was this poor fucker?' he wondered out loud.

'Someone who had a really long and bad dream,' Skinner responded. 'Read Varric's books instead of ogling the blonde she-male, next time,' she scolded, when the Qunari looked up at her and frowned.

A long and really bad dream, the Bull distractedly thought. Very akin to the one we are about to have.

He stood and straightened, just in time to catch the re-formed crystal ball. It was large, some two feet in diameter, yet it weighed nothing at all – it was warm to the touch; Sera had stopped struggling and was weeping silently instead. Krem was no longer restraining her, but holding her in earnest warmth.

'I can feel it, right?' Sera whispered, amid sobs. 'Veldrin's doin' this an' not doin' it at the same time…'

'It could be Dorian doing it,' the Bull said; the orb in his hand, the thing that Maevaris had called a Maghrallen, the thing that Varric had shot…Skin's comments were a tad unfair, he had been paying some attention…in any event, the thing really weighed nothing. 'Though,' he wisely reconsidered, 'I doubt Dorian got a taste for blood magic all of a sudden.'

'There shouldn't be blood magic,' Skinner said, sounding unpleasantly hesitant. 'They said they were only going to start that once…'

The Bull sniffed at the air, his nostrils flaring wide.

'I think there has been a change of plans,' he matter-of-factly replied. 'Let's get back to them,' he said, turning around. 'They need to get in this room, and,' he added, once more looking to the remains, 'we need to burn or bury this guy.'

'I thought Qunari had no respect for corpses,' Krem quipped; the Bull's fierce glance and clenched jaws made him regret the words as soon as they'd been uttered.

'This poor sucker was not a Qunari,' the Bull said, feeling ready to face whatever the mages left behind had conjured. Her could not have guessed how wrong he was, though, he could not have guessed that he, and not Sera, would be the one to flinch and draw back when, retracing their steps, they reached the mage chamber. He could not have guessed that he would be the one who was terrified.

The gaping mouth of the corridor was protected by the shield Sera had stolen; it radiated cold, just as the Maghrallen in his hand radiated deceitful warmth. Controlled by the red-flaring orb Veldrin was focusing with, the shield drifted in mid-air, breaking apart the river of white light that poured from Maevaris' tensed fingers; Dalish stood just behind it, breathing at ease.

'Don't come in,' Dalish pointlessly warned; he would not have approached in any event, for the balance of the chamber seemed to tether on the point of a needle. Whatever they were doing, the Qunari dully thought, was working. He could still not discern whether it was very good or horribly bad.

Veldrin's eyelids fluttered.

The coffer that held the last relics – the swords – exploded into fine wooden shards. Crossed as if they had been held by invisible hands, the blades drifted up, up, towards the ceiling then, down and to the side, then into a whirl, then…then came to a standstill behind the shield's protection, behind Dalish, and before Sera.

The rogue did not draw away, as he'd assumed she would – instead, she reached for the hilt of the right hand weapon with odd, grim determination. She gripped it, and closed her eyes.

'I accept your gift. I will kill him for what he did,' Sera said, in a low growl. 'I will kill him for what he did to you.'

She reached for the left handed sword, not opening her eyes; reunited, the swords shrank and adjusted to the elf's hands and size. Sera did not even shudder.

'You will kill him for what he did to us all,' Veldrin said; her lips had moved, but she'd not moved them. Her voice had risen, but it was not hers – the blood on the floor was hers, however, and it filled the contours of the circle, flowing freely from the open veins of her left arm and never straying from the pattern. Droplets of it were rising in the air, gathering in a blur around Radonis' orb, then returning to Veldrin in a fine mist. It looked like she'd been sweating blood, yet it was all going in, not out of every pore of her skin.

'Dorian,' the Iron Bull said, catching his former lover's glance, and finding it deprived of expression. 'Dorian, are you seeing what's happening here? How angry do you want to let her get, before…'

The Tevinter lowered his eyes.

'You're wrong,' Dorian said, softly. 'She's not angry…Hers is not a rage demon.'

Veldrin lifted her eyes from the floor, and they were blood red and dull, and they were not Vel's eyes.

'It's lust,' Dorian whispered. 'It was lust all along.'

'Oh, hell,' the thing that was not Veldrin said, extending her arm and yanking Aurelian Titus' reconstructed Maghrallen out of Bull's grip by willpower alone. 'I am a fucking choice spirit! Choice spirit! How many times do I have to say it! And you,' it purred, 'may call me Imshael.'

'I call bullshit, that's what I call!' the Qunari exploded. 'Haven't we already killed this guy?'

'I am in the room,' Imshael reminded, making Veldrin purse her lips; the magic was done, and the empowered artefacts rested neatly against the wall. The energy storm was over as well, and all lights had dulled. The only thing that had not changed…the only thing that had not changed was the fact that Imshael was, indeed, in the room.

The Iron Bull chose to ignore him, and kept his furious glance locked to Dorian's defeated stare. 'And you would have me believe you didn't know about this, Kadan?'

'He did not,' the demon shrugged. 'He's really very scared of me, you know…Remember when your Inquisitor took that walk through the fade and looked all your fears in the eye? Dorian's is temptation, so…'

'Shut up,' Dorian spat.

'Well,' Imshael merrily reiterated, 'Solas' fear was dying alone, which I guess is why he is planning to take so many people with him when he goes not so quietly into the night – see what I did there? Pun completely intended.'

'You're cracking yourself up,' Sera hissed. 'Give Vel back.'

'It's not a question of give or take per se, but, out of idle interest, what would you give to get her back? Not that you have anything that I want,' the demon shrugged. 'Dorian, on the other hand…'

'Haven't we killed you already?' the Magister angrily muttered.

The demon exhaled in annoyance. 'I've been killed so many times the novelty is really beginning to wear off. The little red-haired elf that's cavorting with the Empress of Orlais killed me; the Grand Duke of Blah-Blah killed me as well, Michel de Chevin thought he did too, and that's just counting the Orlesians you know. Don't get me started on the Fereldens. Or the Nevarrans, though the Divine might be a mentionable footnote.'

'I can't be fucking killed,' he hissed, causing Veldrin's throat to tense. 'So get over it – besides,' Imshael said, languorously leaning Veldrin back on her arms, 'I'm not exactly what you'd call an abomination. I am pretty.'

'If you weren't in Vel's body, I'd be glad to lop off your head and kill you again,' the Bull grunted. 'So you have at least one Qunari on the list.'

'Meh,' the demon said, 'no, I wouldn't, because you're Tal Vashoth now, so technically, not a Qunari anymore. Was that your fear?' he chuckled. 'I can't be bothered to remember every single little thing. Only the relevant ones.'

'We should not be speaking to it,' Maevaris tiredly whispered. 'The longer it stays, the harder…'

'Oh, you are really new to this cross world-stuff, sweetness,' Imshael mocked. 'When Solas wins, and he will win, because, unlike you, he is ruthless, determined and powerful, you'll be the first against the wall. Just so you know…You can't chase me out of a vessel that willingly chose to invite me, so whatever exorcism ritual is floating though that blonde air head of yours will fall as flat as your hair is. I'll let Veldrin back in in a little while, don't worry – her scratching at the door is really annoying. I'm just lingering to let you know that from now on, I come and go as I please. And you should be grateful for it, too, as, let me tell you, without me, your casting does not amount to fuck all. Why…'

It, all of a sudden, sounded frightened, and turned Vel's glance on Dalish.

'Why are you not scared of me?' Imshael asked, in a small voice. 'Everyone else is, but you're not.'

'I am Elvhen. I'm not afraid of spirits,' Dalish shrugged; she took a few brave steps forward, breaking the invisible barrier that all others were holding around the thing that was and was not Veldrin, and sitting on the floor beside her.

'You should be afraid of me,' Imshael said.

'Why?' the blonde non-mage asked. 'Are you a special spirit?' the peacemaker politely inquired.

'You have no idea how special I am,' the demon growled.

'The fact that you need to state it makes you exactly like every other middling spirit,' Dalish said, raising both eyebrows. 'Not very special.'

'Dalish,' Dorian whispered, 'is this in any way intelligent?'

'Yes, yes, listen to the Shem. See? He knows how special I am,' Imshael agreed. 'It's not very smart to provoke me, when I can simply draw Veldrin's dagger and then further drag it across her throat, making sure the blood doesn't return to heal her, this time.'

'You can't,' Dalish said, making the point of her intervention clear, and reminding the demon of its limitations. 'She would not choose it. And you are compelled by her choices – she chose to let you in to learn from you.'

She gave the demon's vessel a complicit nudge.

'She chose to let you in to protect me. Isn't that ironic? If I were you, I would feel used.'

'Ow,' Imshael earnestly protested. 'You make me feel unwanted, and that smarts. You choose not to fear me, and that is just rude. Fine, I'll just go. Then, I'll come back. And then go again. See if I care – the only reason why you're not killing her is that you need her; don't think I didn't overhear that lovely fireside conversation you had. Only, it's not so easy now eh?…oooh, I have a bright idea! Let's make thus even more fun!'

'I'm going to knock out the boss,' the Bull said, asking permission from Dorian in not as many words.

'Do it before he says whatever Vel doesn't want to know.' the Magister nodded.

The Iron Bull was not fast enough.

'Do you know who first called me from the fade? I was dwelling quite happily there,' Imshael spoke, spewing words as fast as Varric's Bianca shot bolts, 'before…'

The Bull's fist crunched against Veldrin's delicate face, as if her bones had been carved in iron.

'…that's not going to work now, is it?' the demon said, smiling Veldrin's smile. 'Solas called me – he didn't do it himself, of course, he has quite a taste for mindless tools, but…they were puppets, and he was the master, thus I this I shall give him the credit. He gave me a taste for unchanging flesh first. It was not one body but many, and I killed them all, killed them and scattered them under their stupid aravels, I reached up their arses and turned them inside out, but it wasn't their fault – it was Solas' and yes, his name is Solas, not Fen'Harel…'

The Bull punched Veldrin again, and again, and again, until she went down and stayed down, until his fists were naught but raw broken bones and shapeless flesh.

'I'm going now,' the demon said. 'I'm having an inward giggle at guessing which one of you will tell her just how much her precious Elvhen god despises her precious Elvhen kin. My safe bet would be you, Sera, just, you're too obvious, thus my earnings would be meagre. Dorian. We're back to you, you dark horse, you. You'll tell her, won't you? You'll tell her because you cannot resist temptation.'

The demon left Veldrin's body in a shapeless pile on the floor; the places where the Bull's fists had seemingly not touched her were growing yellow and blue. Dorian rushed to hold her, Dalish vanquished of his way by swift steps and not magic.

He lifted her to his chest, and thought of Lexi, and Felix, of magic and beauty, he thought of happiness, and peace and how far away they all seemed. He thought of the practical little sprite that was his wife; a practical little sprite that was now, one thing more. Perhaps one thing too many.

'I kept my promise,' she whispered, looking up at him through golden eyes. 'I came back.'

'You took your time, Amata,' he whispered, in return.

'I meant to give the swords to Sera,' she followed, holding on to his shoulders. 'I wanted to give them to her, because she hated Solas, and all he ever represented, unlike Skin, who aspires to be him, and simply wants to kill humans. Did I manage to do that?'

'You did,' Dorian softly said, painstakingly turning both of them to face the wall against which the artefacts stood. 'But you went over the edge to achieve that, Vel, very far…'

Her eyes turned red, and the demon spoke for his ears alone.

'Well, I told you what her lover did. How tempted are you to hear about yours? Because Lexi has been anything else but a good little boy…Or well, he has been a really good little boy, unlike you. Are you tempted to know what he did, Dorian, of the House Pavus, most recently of Seheron? Your choice.'

Aah, how nice to see old friends again, right? RIGHT? Methinks Veldrin is making friends with the wrong sort... On the other hand, looks like Solas is now facing quite the line-up.

Thank you for reading, and especially for commenting (we do like comments, we really, really do!).

Up Next - We shall see what we shall see :)