Dorian felt the moment when he passed through the rift and into the Fade, since it hit him like a blow to the chest. His act of opening the rift had been one of desperation, his promise to Cullen ringing through his mind as he used the Anchor to open the way to a place no mortal had stepped in the flesh for over a thousand years. Yet breaking the laws of reality was, to him, a small price to pay to avoid breaking the same promise twice.

As he tumbled through the air, the nature of the Fade at least proved to work in his favor, saving him from a painful fall by electing to ignore silly little things like up and down. Instead he floated towards what he had thought was the ground, then hovered a few inches above it. Not until he dared to reach out and touch the nearest surface with his fingertip did his weight suddenly decide to assert itself, and he fell with an ignominious oof.

Rising to his feet, he absently dusted himself off as he surveyed his surroundings. Peripherally, he was dimly aware of the others nearby, but most of his attention was on the floating rocks, the vague landscape, and the swirling mists obscuring the distance. As a mage, he would have guessed where they were in a matter of moments regardless, but the way that the Anchor pulsed and burned in his palm seemed to be a rather strong confirmation of his surmise.

"Well, this is unexpected."

Dorian blinked and looked up, then tilted his head as he contemplated the man standing sideways on a floating boulder. "You look a little off, Warden," he noted with a grin.

"Thanks," Alistair drawled, tapping his foot on the rock upon which he stood. It wobbled, but didn't straighten, leaving the Warden situated where he was. "I take it we're not in Thedas anymore."

"No," Solas said softly. Dorian turned to watch the elf mage take a few steps deeper into the Fade, a look of awe on his face as he slowly turned in a circle. "This is the Fade. The Inquisitor opened a rift. We came through… and survived." Solas sounded surprised, but also eager. "I never thought I would find myself here physically. Look!" He pointed upwards. "The Black City, almost close enough to touch."

"Well, this certainly looks nothing like the Maker's bosom, so we can't be dead," a sardonic voice noted. Dorian whipped his head around again, blinking in surprise as he saw Hawke standing above him - upside down. The man looked down - or, given his vantage, up - at Dorian, then suddenly grinned. "That's a new look for you."

Dorian chuckled as he glanced around to make sure the rest of his companions were all well and accounted for. "The first time I entered the Fade, it looked like a lovely castle filled with gold and silks. I met a marvelous desire demon, as I recall. We chatted and ate grapes before he attempted to possess me." He gave a little sigh, nodding to Bull and Varric as they drew near. "Perhaps the difference is that we are here physically. This is no one's dream." If it were a dream, I would see Cullen, he added silently, trying not to panic. A tiny little voice inside also had to add, And he'd be naked, if this were a true dream.

"I've seen my father in the Fade, I've seen a demon pretending to be my sister in the Fade," Alistair observed as he craned his neck to study their surroundings. "But I've never seen this."

"The stories say Inquisitor Lavellan walked out of the Fade at Haven," Hawke mused. "So it's not completely unprecedented. I would wager it's tied to that mark on your hand, Inquisitor."

Realizing that he'd been rubbing at the green light in his palm as it flickered and sputtered fitfully, Dorian nodded, still searching the Fade around him for one more familiar face. "That would be a logical conclusion."

"Well, whatever happened at Haven," Hawke noted, crossing his arms over his chest, "we can't assume we're safe now."

"An excellent assumption," a rough voice said as its owner emerged from the green mist around them.

Dorian's eyebrows rose, even as a bit of hope leapt in his heart. Surely if he were here... "Loghain? I see you survived our rather precipitous journey here. I do have to ask, though, why are you here?"

"I followed your Commander as he chased after you and Clarel," Loghain explained. "He said he had a bad feeling about all this." Loghain looked around, his eyes lingering on Hawke and Alistair and their odd perches. "And it would seem he was right."

When Cullen failed to appear from the same mist, Dorian frowned. "Have you seen the Commander?"

Loghain shook his head. "Not here, no. I saw him go through the rift, and I wasn't that far behind him. Once I landed, I began my search for you."

Dorian fought to keep his reaction to that from his face and instead turned to examine the area around them again. "We'll need to look for him on our way out, then," he declared.

"Which brings up that oh so important question," Varric pointed out. "Which way is out?" He nodded to Hawke and Alistair. "The Fade apparently doesn't give a shit about up and down."

"The mark is the key," Solas said. "You unlocked the rift to grant us entrance to the Fade, and here we are. If we continue with that logic, then that means you should be able to use the same mechanism to take us back to the waking world."

"What about that rift the Warden mages opened in the main hall?" Loghain asked. "That could be our way out, if you can open it enough to let us pass through from this side."

"We'll encounter resistance," Hawke pointed out. "We are in the Fade, after all. There are bound to be demons."

"Well, this is shitty," Bull said, speaking for the first time. "I'll fight whatever you give me, boss, but nobody said nothing about getting dragged through the ass end of demon town."

"I'll make sure to pay you a bonus," Dorian quipped.

"I'll hold you to that, boss," Bull shot back, then sighed and pulled out his maul. "Well, I'm ready, at least. Who knows? Maybe killing some demons will make me feel better."

Dorian chuckled. "At least it's better than waiting for the demons to find us, isn't it?" he suggested, then pointed to the large rift swirling in the distance. "And there's our exit. Let's go."

With Bull in the lead, Alistair and Loghain quickly fell in to flank him, and the rest arranged themselves behind. As they began to move forward, Solas spoke once more, his neck craning while he looked at the Fade around them. "This is fascinating. It is not the area I would have chosen, of course. But to physically walk within the Fade…" He sighed, sounding almost content.

Varric gave him an incredulous look. "Right. You like it here. Isn't that wonderful." Shaking his head, Varric glanced at Hawke. "Remember last time we ended up in the Fade together?"

Hawke rolled his eyes. "Oh, how could I forget," he drawled. "My closest friends showed such loyalty in the face of a demon's temptations."

Varric grimaced. "Well, we got better. Sort of."

"Yes, you all went back to stabbing me from the front instead of from the other side," Hawke said sardonically.

"That still sounds better than a certain Vint I could name right now," Bull muttered darkly. Before Dorian could protest, Bull started to speak in a higher voice, obviously imitating someone else. "Hey, chief. Let's join the Inquisition! Good fights for a good cause!" Dropping back to his normal register, he continued, "I don't know, Krem. I hear there are demons." Switching back to the other voice, he said, "Ah, don't worry about the demons, chief! I'm sure we won't see many!" He muttered a few choice oaths under his breath in a mixture of Trade and Qunlat, then finished with, "Asshole!" He nudged Loghain, who happened to be on his left. "Hey, if I get possessed, feint on my blind side, then go low. Cullen says I leave myself open."

"I shall bear that in mind," Loghain said in an amused tone.

"Solas, you're the expert on the Fade, despite your deplorable sense of fashion. Even I'll admit that," Dorian noted. "Any useful little tidbits you might want to share with the rest of us?"

Apparently being in the Fade put Solas in a good enough mood to ignore Dorian's little jab, or he recognized it for what it was: Dorian's attempt to calm his own nerves. "The Fade is shaped by intent and emotion," the elf noted. "Remain focused, and it will lead you to where you wish to go."

Dorian again felt a little thrill of hope. And if my focus is to find Cullen? "That sounds important to know."

"The demon that controls this area is extremely powerful," Solas cautioned. "I suggest you remain wary of its manipulations and prepare for what is certain to be a fascinating experience."

"Fascinating," Alistair echoed. "You certainly like to be fascinated, Solas."

"Life can only be experienced once, Warden Alistair," Solas replied. "Thus I have found it beneficial to open myself to all that it has to offer. Fascination is but a logical extension of truly opening yourself to new ideas."

"Riiight," Alistair said slowly.

Solas gave a little sigh, but fell silent after that.

As they moved through the Fade, Varric dropped back to talk to Dorian. "So Curly's here somewhere, right?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"Somewhere, yes," Dorian answered back in kind, rubbing his glowing palm again. "Alive." I hope.

"We'll find him, Sparkler-I mean Inquisitor," Varric told him.

"Oh, don't you start getting formal on me," Dorian complained. "I have enough to worry about as it is."

Varric chuckled. "Noted. So I can still remind you about the five sovereigns you owe me?"

As the vague burning sensation in his hand turned into a more demanding itch, Dorian started to scratch it. To distract himself from the oddity, he focused on Varric. "I'll tell you what. Help us all get out of here, Cullen included, and I'll triple it. And find a publisher for your books in the Imperium. That's a very large market waiting to be tapped, you know."

"Huh." Varric's eyebrows rose. "You do know how to negotiate, though I might be able to get a better deal from my cousin's widow. Still, she's not here right now and you are, so I accept." His eyes narrowed as Dorian muttered a strong oath and clenched his hand in a fist as the green flame suddenly flared and spread up his arm. "You all right, Sparkler?" he asked warily, taking a step back from the fitful glow.

"Venhedis!" Dorian gasped. "I'm… not sure." The light hadn't hurt this badly since he'd first acquired it, but right now it felt like someone was shoving several crystal shards through his palm.

"Inquisitor!" Solas said, urgency in his voice as he moved to Dorian's side. "Let me help!" His hands closed around Dorian's, face a mask of concentration as he tried to weave a spell.

The green glow died for a moment, then sputtered back into life as a wave of magical energy burst from Dorian's hand, knocking them all to the ground as Dorian screamed in pain. He curled into a fetal position as, for a moment, his world turned into nothing but agony.

And, from the center of that torment, came a whisper: I'm sorry.

Before he could wrap his mind around the meaning and origin of those two simple words, the agony centered in his palm spread to encompass his entire hand and then… pushed. A yell gargled and died in the back of his throat as the pressure built from within, clawing and scraping its way out from his palm with a desperation that would not be denied. His breaths came in shallow pants as he tried to push the pain away, tried to pretend he didn't hear a dull cracking of bones breaking deep within his hand, tried to think of anything except his hand as it swelled like a waterskin being filled far beyond its capacity.

And then, all at once, the building pressure burst. As the skin of his palm split open like that of a ripe plum, a sharp pain lanced through his arm-then just as abruptly vanished. A sphere of pale golden light emerged from his hand and expanded to encompass him, so blindingly bright that tears sprang to his eyes even as he squeezed them shut. In the midst of his disorientation, hands lifted and cradled him, and a cloth gently eased the sweat from his brow. Once that was done, he felt a hand cup his cheek, and a whisper tickle his ears. "I'm sorry."

Swiftly he reached up with his battered hand and grasped the one on his cheek, willing to endure the pain the motion sparked. When he felt a familiar surge of magical energy as their palms met, he sagged in relief. A thousand little questions and mysteries and hints and fears all suddenly coalesced into a final answer, and he smiled with bittersweet happiness. "Mailani," he breathed.

"I'm sorry, Dorian," that oh-so-familiar voice replied. "It was the only way."

Opening his eyes, he stared up at her, swallowing as he saw the worry on her familiar face. With a trembling hand, he reached up and touched her face in wonder. "You're here. You're truly here."

"Be cautious, Inquisitor," Loghain said in a wary voice. "Remember where we are. That is most likely a demon."

"Or it could be a spirit that identifies so strongly as Inquisitor Lavellan that it believes it is her," Solas noted from where he stood nearby. When Dorian glanced at him, he found a thoughtful expression on the man's face.

Dorian swallowed, then looked up at Mailani. "Is it really you?"

A sad smile came to her face. "Proving my existence either way would require time we do not have," she said. "Can you stand?"

He nodded, but before she could help him rise, Hawke strode forward and lifted Dorian to his feet. The man's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he looked at Mailani, and it was clear from the way he put himself between Dorian and Mailani that he considered her a danger. "How hard is it to answer the question, really?" he said, an edge in his tone. "Especially given the circumstances. Let's try it this way: I'm a human, and you are-?"

Mailani met Hawke's gaze as she rose to her own feet. "I am here to help you. Everything is not as it seems."

Hawke snorted, arm still steadying Dorian as he pointed out, "We're in the Fade. I would assume that is a given in this place."

"The danger before you has more faces than you know," Mailani said, then looked past Hawke to Dorian. "And there are things you need to remember about my death."

Dorian shuddered, then gently pushed Hawke aside and stepped towards her. "What things? Why don't I remember them?"

"Because they were taken from you by the demon that serves Corypheus," she told him.

"Tell me, lethallan: what is the nature of the spirit who commands this place?" Solas asked as he stepped forward once more. "It is clear that it is shaped for a purpose, but I have never seen anything like it."

Mailani's face grew solemn. "I know it only as the Nightmare. I have only seen it in dreams, but I have seen enough to know that it deliberately inspires terror. It feeds off of fear and darkness, and uses its minions to enact a dreamer's darker memories that it then consumes and hoards." She paused, glancing at Loghain and Alistair as she added, "And it is the one, as far as I can tell, that is responsible for the false Calling which drove the Wardens to their folly."

Logahin frowned as he exchanged a glance with Alistair. "Then perhaps we owe this Nightmare a visit," Loghain noted in a grim tone.

"You will have your chance," Mailani promised him, "for you cannot leave here without confronting him."

"Wait. The big demon that Erimond guy was trying to bring through?" Varric asked.

"Yes," Mailani confirmed.

"It's waiting for us at the exit?"

Mailani nodded gravely. "Yes."

"Well... shit," Varric muttered, then sighed as he pulled out Bianca. "You bring me to all the fun places, Sparkler."

Bull groaned and let the head of his maul drop onto the ground with a loud thud, then leaned on it almost casually. Almost. "So you're telling me that not only do we have to fight our way through the ass end of demon town, we have to fight their boss, too?"

There was a definite twitch of Mailani's lips as she repeated, "Yes."

"Well, that's just great," Bull grumbled as he heaved his weapon up to rest on his shoulder again. "You always were trouble, boss. Little boss. Dead boss?" He shook his head. "Damn it, now I'm really getting confused. I guess that means I get to blame both of you."

Taking a deep breath, Dorian braced himself as he met Mailani's gaze. "This demon… I've seen him before, haven't I?"

Mailani confirmed his guess with a nod. "He has been watching the dreams of the one who bears the Anchor since I first stepped from the Fade at Haven."

Dorian swallowed. "That… that explains much."

Solas frowned and looked to Dorian. "Then you've seen the Nightmare in your dreams?"

At Dorian's nod, Loghain grunted. "Odd. The Commander said much the same about the Nightmare."

Solas frowned. "That is indeed most curious. A mage perceiving a demon in the Fade is always a possibility, but the Commander is no mage."

"Demons have haunted Cullen's sleep for years," Mailani said, tone tinged with sorrow. "And the Nightmare found his dreams most satisfying."

"I see." Solas' frown deepened. "Unusual, but not completely unheard of, in that case. I shall think on this."

"You said that this Nightmare serves Corypheus," Dorian noted. "Is that why Corypheus has so many demons at his disposal? Because of the Nightmare?"

"I don't know how it works exactly," Mailani admitted. "But the Nightmare is drawn to those who inspire terror in the waking world."

"And Corypheus helped to unleash the Blight upon the world," Hawke said grimly. "It doesn't get more horrific than that."

"Then it must be a fear demon, as I suspected," Solas said. "Fear is a very old, very strong feeling. It predates love, pride, compassion... Every emotion save, perhaps, desire."

"Is it wrong to say that I preferred the desire demon?" Dorian asked with a sigh.

Solas smiled faintly, though the expression quickly slipped away. "Be wary, Inquisitor. The Nightmare will do anything in its power to weaken our resolve."

"Stealing people's memories," Varric said with a shudder. "That's low, even for a demon. Memories make us what we are. A monster that takes them away? I don't want to think about that."

"After what it did to the Wardens, it's going to learn to fear for itself," Alistair declared in a grim tone.

"Will you help us, Mailani?" Dorian asked softly. "Will you help us escape its clutches?"

"I will, falon. But first you must see the truth." She raised her left hand, and the familiar green light awoke and flickered fitfully. "Come. I will show you."

All eyes turned to Dorian to see what he would do, but he moved without hesitation. Stepping forward, he raised his own glowing hand, dimly aware of the blood that poured from the open wound in his palm caused by Mailani's unexpected appearance. He didn't feel the pain, though-or perhaps he simply chose not to feel it. Even as Hawke cried out and stepped forward, Dorian clasped his hand tightly with hers, and the light of their palms mingled and flared into an even brighter conflagration.

And around them, the Fade… faded away.

Dorian opened his eyes and found himself staring out over a vast expanse of sandy dunes lit a dull orange by the sun above. Raising his hand, he tried to block the glare of the sun, but the motion proved futile. With a sigh, he turned to the woman next to him and pouted. "You hate me, don't you?"

Mailani raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask that?"

"Because you keep dragging me out to the ass-end of nowhere, as Bull would say," he told her. "Couldn't we do this in more civilized places? Places with wine and peeled grapes and cheese?"

Her lips twitched in a smile. "I don't think we could find quillback guts in Val Royeaux, Dorian."

"How do you know? I'm sure the markets there are quite extensive." He sighed and tried to brush some sand off of his armor, which of course resulted in a smear of dirt. "Oh, lovely."

With a laugh, Mailani looked ahead and pointed. "Look, there's the cave on that map I found. Maybe we'll find something useful in there."

"Only you would find a scrap of paper with vague references to landmarks and a scribbled X and think it means hidden treasure," he teased her.

"And when have I been wrong?" she asked him smugly.

"Well… never," he admitted, then harrumphed as she stuck her tongue out at him. "Oh, fine, be that way. Someday you'll be wrong, and I hope I'm there to see it."

As they approached the cave, a familiar honking sound came from behind them. Dorian turned to see the approach of a flurry of varghests, and sighed. "Oh, Maker, they really are looking for death, aren't they?"

"You go on ahead, boss," Bull told Mailani as he swung his maul in an impressive circle. "Me and Baldy got this."

Solas pulled his staff from his back. "Need I remind you that I am not the only one here with no hair?"

"Yeah, but I'm bald with style," Bull told him. "You just look like an egg."

"Bull," Mailani chided him.

"A good egg," Bull amended. "C'mon. Let's chase these things back to the gas pits." With a roar, he charged forward, the shimmer of a barrier surrounding him just before he hit the varghests-literally.

"Let them have their fun," Dorian suggested with a chuckle. "I wouldn't mind getting out of the sun for a little while. Besides, if we find what we're looking for, we'll be able to leave all this sand behind us for a while."

Mailani, who had half-drawn her bow, smiled and set it back in place. "All right. Let's go."

The two of them pressed into the cave. The light from outside, as well as the zaps of Solas' spells and the splats of Bull's hammer, dimmed quickly, and Dorian frowned as they moved further into the depths. "The Veil is thin here," he told Mailani. "Very thin. Be wary. I wouldn't be surprised if a demon or two slipped through."

She nodded and pulled out her bow, nocking an arrow as they moved forward. "Like the Orlesian camps in the Exalted Plains?"

"Precisely." His staff twirled in his hands as he readied himself, just in case. They moved forward slowly, keeping an eye out for both enemies and evidence of treasure.

In the end, it didn't do them any good.

At first, the earthquake seemed to be only a momentary inconvenience. As the walls shook and the rocks fell from above, Dorian quickly summoned a shield around them and pulled Mailani close to make sure they were both protected. The rocks bounced off his spell and fell to the side, and they exchanged a nervous smile. "That was close," he admitted. "But don't worry. I'm here. I'll protect you."

She smiled at him, then turned when Bull's voice echoed down the tunnel. "Hey, boss! Everything all right in there?"

"We're fine, Bull!" she called back.

"We're coming in anyway," he boomed back, and Dorian saw shadows block the light at the entrance as the two headed into the cave

"I'll go get them," he told Mailani. "Don't move. That barrier will hold while I'm gone, and I don't want to risk a boulder landing on your pretty little head."

With a laugh, she pushed him down the tunnel. "Just get going."

He gave her a wink and started towards Bull and Solas. Before he'd gotten far, he heard her gasp and cry, "Dorian!"

His head whipped around, eyes widening as he saw movement beyond her. The man who stepped from the shadows was clad in a hooded robe so black that it was difficult to see him within the darkness of the cave, but his eyes glowed crimson beneath his hood. Raising a staff crowned with a red lyrium skull, the unknown mage sent an arc of energy towards Mailani, one which shattered Dorian's spell seemingly without effort and dropped her to the floor, bound in a crushing prison of magic. As she struggled and Dorian started to run - too slowly, always too slowly - the red skull rose and whipped around in a circle, then slammed into the ground.

As the cave collapsed around them, Dorian lost himself in a cloud of dust and crushed stone.

The memory released him abruptly, and he collapsed with a gasp as his knees gave way. Mailani fell with him, her hand still tangled with his, and helped to steady him as he struggled to regain his breath. For a moment, all he could taste was the dust of stone, and all he could see was darkness, but eventually the sensations faded and he remembered that he was no longer in that fateful cave in the Western Approach. "That man, the mage," he whispered, still haunted by the oddly familiar glowing red eyes. "That was-"

"Jorath Amell."

Surprised at the source of the words as much as by the venomous tone which delivered them, Dorian turned to look at Alistair. "You saw that?"

"We all did, Inquisitor," Loghain said, expression grim even for him.

"That was the Hero of Ferelden?" Varric asked, eyebrows rising. "What a charming fellow."

"Hero?" Alistair shuddered. "Maker save us from heroes like him. He killed the Archdemon and ended the Fifth Blight, yes, but…" His mouth twisted, and he looked away. "He's no hero," he said finally. "And if Amell had anything to do with the death of your predecessor, I would be checking under my pillow every night before going to sleep if I were you, Inquisitor."

Varric's eyebrows rose. "Is he truly that bad?"

"He is," Loghain said softly. "When my daughter Anora ascended the throne of Ferelden as sole ruler following the Fifth Blight, she appointed him her Chancellor – against my advice. When last I saw her…" His voice trailed off for a moment as he shook his head. "She did as he bid her without question. My daughter was a strong-willed and intelligent woman, quite capable of ruling on her own. The change in her was not natural. When I left, the Chancellor made sure to let me know that my presence in Denerim henceforth would be unwise." His jaw rippled as he gritted his teeth. "He took her from me in a way no parent should ever have to endure."

"That sounds all too familiar," Dorian whispered as his eyes squeezed shut. Blood magic, then. With a sigh, he opened his eyes and gave Loghain a sympathetic look. "I have seen such changes in personality back home, though I'm surprised he managed to get away with it considering she is Queen. I am sorry."

"As am I," Loghain said in a voice full of quiet regret.

Finally Dorian turned to look to the one person who might have anything else to say about Amell, and found Hawke staring intently at him. "Hawke?" he ventured. "He's your cousin, is he not?"

Tilting his head, Hawke scrutinized Dorian closely for a moment or two before he finally said, "I never met the man. According to Mother, he came from the side of the family that the Amells in Kirkwall shunned. Far too many mages in a line already infamous for them in polite society." His eyes narrowed, and he moved to kneel next to Dorian and Mailani. His finger lightly traced the back of Dorian's hand as he looked at Mailani. "You've been in the mark the whole time, haven't you? With Dorian."

"It was the only way," Mailani said softly.

"You've said that before," Hawke noted.

"I don't understand," Dorian said with a frown. "How could I not know you were with me? I am skilled in the necromantic arts, after all. Surely I would have felt you in such a situation."

Mailani ducked her head slightly, her drawn eyebrows and averted gaze demonstrating her guilt. "I… encouraged you not to notice. I didn't want to give any of you false hope that I could return, but I had to be close to you. Sometimes, of course, our souls still touched."

After a moment of puzzling over that revelation, Dorian's eyes widened. "The dreams."

"The dreams," she said with a nod.

Dorian's face softened in a smile, even as his eyes gleamed with unshed tears. "Thank you," he murmured. "They were a true gift." He couldn't adequately articulate how, precisely, particularly with an avid audience nearby, but he suspected he didn't particularly need to, given the link which still connected him to Mailani. Inhaling sharply, he cleared his throat. "And all those times that I started to suspect something and found myself distracted away from the thought? That was also you?"

Mailani nodded, eyes dancing with mischief. "It was. You're far too clever for your own good, Dorian. You kept speculating about this and that, and I had to keep turning all those ideas into nothing more than a memory or a passing thought whenever your mind wandered too close."

Dorian mulled over that for a while, then finally nodded reluctantly. "I… think I understand, but… why?"

"I had to make sure you were as closely linked to the Anchor as I was, so that it could not be taken from you by Corypheus… or anyone else." Her eyes dropped to look at their linked hands. "And once done, I found I could not unlink myself. Either from you or the mark."

"That rings true, Inquisitor," Solas offered. "The strength of spirits and souls in the waking world is diminished, for they require a channel through which to work. Absent your awareness of her presence, she would have been compelled to remain with you, held by the Anchor's power."

"So once we came to the Fade…" Dorian began.

"I was able to assert myself," Mailani said with a nod.

"Is that why his hand was broken and split like a ripe tomato?" Hawke asked harshly. For answer, Mailani lifted her hand away from Dorian and presented it to Hawke, who glanced at it with a frown. "Ah. I see," he said in a tight voice.

Dorian, on the other hand, gasped as he saw the savage cut that split her hand. "Where did that come from?"

"She took it from you, I imagine," Hawke told him, turning over Dorian's hand to reveal a shiny new scar that was a mirror for the wound on Mailani's hand. "The cut, at least." His thumb smoothed over Dorian's hand, causing the mage to wince as he felt broken bones grind together under the skin. "What about the rest of it?"

"Not yet," she said softly.

Hawke frowned, obviously not liking that answer. "What does that-"

"Inquisitor!" Loghain called, drawing his sword. "It appears that we've been discovered."

Dorian looked up and saw the approaching spider-like creepy-crawlies. Quickly rising to his feet, he called, "Time to earn your pay, Bull!"

"On it, boss," Bull grunted, then charged forward with his maul raised over his head so he could bring it down and splatter the first demon with a giant squish. "Let's have a little fun!"

"I like his enthusiasm," Varric said with a chuckle as he raised Bianca and took aim.

It was a short, dirty fight, though not an easy one. When the last misshapen creature collapsed in a pile of rather squishy goo, Bull gave a loud shout of satisfaction. "Guess this Nightmare wasn't such hot shit after all."

"These are likely but servants of the true foe," Solas pointed out.

Bull shot the elf an irritated glance. "Just let me have this moment to hope, all right?"

Dorian frowned as he looked around and noticed an absence. "Mailani?" When there was no answer, he sighed in regret, the brief reunion reminding him all too keenly of the pain of her loss. "Where did she go?"

"I believe we shall see her again," Solas said. "Though it is time that we made our way forward rather than looking back."

"And find Curly," Varric said. "The Inquisition doesn't leave anyone behind."

"Don't," Hawke said with a growl as he stalked past Varric.

"I didn't mean anything by it," Varric protested, but Hawke was already moving ahead towards the distant rift. "Touchy," the dwarf muttered as he hefted Bianca to sit on his shoulder.

Dorian moved with them, occasionally looking at his hand with a grimace as the green light flickered and caused flashes of pain. Still, they had no alternative but to find the way out.

As they moved through the Fade, Dorian came to understand what Solas had meant when he said that this part of the Fade had been crafted for a purpose. They found snippets of notes, some of them from the point of view of the worst that humanity had to offer, and others from the perspective of their victims. There were remnants of those lost to the Blight, and of those who simply wished to understand why the Blight had destroyed their lives. Haunting horrors of innocence lost rested alongside the dark glee of evil embraced freely, and the combination was sufficient to make Dorian's skin crawl.

Not that the graveyard made him feel any better, of course. When they found the tombstones engraved with the names and fears of all those Dorian held dear, Dorian paused and considered them for a long while. His eyes lingered specifically on the one emblazoned with Cullen's name, pondering the intersection between the Commander's fear and his own. They certainly had parallels, some of them quite tantalizing if he were completely honest with himself. For one, just like temptation, fear of surrender held a different connotation and consequence between surrender to lyrium, and surrender to desire. After a few moments, he sighed and moved on. It seemed better to find Cullen than to dally and maunder over what was obviously a trap of the fear demon, obscure though it may be.

Grimly they pressed forward after that, with only the occasional banter providing any relief from their host's attempts to instill fear so that it might feed. As they progressed, the weighty feeling of anticipation grew from a nagging feeling to an almost oppressive burden. Something was going to happen, and soon.

And then the demon spoke.

"Ah, we have a visitor."

Dorian's head whipped around, trying to find the source of the sonorous tone. It tickled on the edge of familiarity, but he couldn't quite place it. Instead, he simply turned in a slow circle as he said, "It appears our host has decided to greet us."

"Some foolish little boy comes to steal the fear I have kindly lifted from his shoulders," the deep voice continued. "You should have thanked me and left your fear where it lay, forgotten. You think that pain will make you stronger? What fool filled your mind with such drivel? The only one who grows stronger from your fears is me."

"Well, we certainly aren't growing stronger from its blathering," Varric muttered under his breath.

The demon ignored the dwarf, if it even heard him. "But you are a guest here in my home, and not the only one." At that comment, Dorian's eyes narrowed, but he remained silent as the demon added, "I believe you know him, since he arrived at the same time as you. I knew him from before, as both frequent feast and annoying sting. Perhaps you should come visit him, since it seems he does not appreciate the nature of my hospitality."

Dorian swallowed harshly. There was only one person who fit that description, and the implications of the demon's words made his blood run cold. Cullen.

"Perhaps your fear for him will make you stronger, perhaps not. Even so, by all means, let me return more of what you have forgotten."

From the walls and stone around them, a veritable horde of demons suddenly burst forth and charged them with earsplitting shrieks and howls. "Here they come!" Bull roared, even as he wound up his body in preparation for his favorite whirlwind blow.

Before the first demon got close enough to attack, however, it screeched and fell to the ground, grabbing desperately as it was pulled out of sight by an unseen hand. The other demons likewise followed, each one scrabbling for purchase before being sucked from sight, leaving no one standing in front of them save for a familiar figure. For a moment more Mailani stood straight and true, glowing green hand stretched in front of her, before her eyes rolled up in her head and she slowly crumpled to the ground.

"Mailani!" Dorian rushed towards her, barely catching her before her head hit the ground. As he pulled her into his lap, his brow furrowed as he realized that she looked different. Her hair was dulled, with patches of stark white intertwined with the black, and an extensive pattern of lines and wrinkles now wreathed her face. As she looked up at him, he saw the clouds of age in her eyes, and a gauntness in her cheeks which had not before been present. "Mailani," he breathed. "What's happening?"

Her glowing hand reached out weakly towards him, and he clasped it tightly with his own. He felt the bones grind in his palm as he did so, but he ignored the pain as he kept his eyes on her face. "It is my time, Dorian," she whispered. "And long past my time. I can help you, but first, you have to see all of it."

"All of it? All of what?"

"The truth," she whispered, even as darkness closed in around them.

Dorian coughed, trying to get the cloud of dust and grime out of his lungs. Before he'd even managed to take his first shaking breath, however, he was struggling to his feet, uncaring that his staff had snapped in two or that something was wrong with his left ankle. All that mattered was the Inquisitor.

"Mailani!" he croaked as he forced his way closer to the cave-in. Behind him, he heard the others stirring, but he didn't bother looking back. All that mattered was the Inquisitor. "Lavellan!" he tried again, a bit louder this time, and finally remembered that he was, in fact, a mage. The thought was followed by a sputtering wisp summoned from the Fade, whirling around his head to provide a feeble light.

There.

Thank the Maker for that Dalish scarf she wore - it was like a beacon of green and gold in the darkness of the cave around them. With faltering, fumbling steps, he moved towards it, ignoring the pain, the possibility of a further cave-in, of anything that got between him and his best friend. His only friend.

The sputter of green light almost made him cry - if the Anchor could light up, it meant she was alive. Closing the remaining space between them, he fell to his knees and took that glowing hand in his, trying to pour what little ability he had for healing into the Inquisitor. "Mailani," he breathed, "I'm here. I'll protect you."

At the sound of his voice, her head turned, and Dorian paled as he saw what had happened to her face. Blood covered the side of it, drenching her hair, and the top of her head was misshapen, crushed askew by an unseen force. "D-Dorian," she mumbled. "C-can't see you."

No, no, no! The tears came to his eyes unbidden, and he squeezed her hand all the more tightly. "The others will come," he promised. "Solas will be able to help, I know it, and Bull can-" He looked down her body, and began to tremble. Her body disappeared at about her waist, hidden under a pile of rubble made of stones large and small. She'd always been nimble, but never physically strong - not that even Bull would have held up well against a half ton of rock. "He... Bull can lift everything away, I'm sure of it."

"Dorian," she said, and the mage quieted. His hand squeezed hers so tightly now that his knuckles were white. "Dorian, I'm sorry."

That... wasn't what he'd expected to hear, and it wasn't welcome - not at all. He shook his head. "No. You'll be fine. The others will come."

"Sorry," she whispered. Her head shifted slightly, then relaxed, lolling limply on the ground, and the bright green of her hand flickered, then went out.

"No, no, no!" But he couldn't deny it. No necromancer could deny the dimming of the eyes, or that last indrawn breath. Yet before he could even think of anything else, before he could cry or rage or attempt to bring her back, his world suddenly turned gold, then white, and then green.

This time, however, unlike when it had happened in the waking world, he actually saw what happened next. An unseen hand settled on his shoulder and pulled him back, allowing him to witness what followed from the safety of the darkness.

He saw the sudden flare of the Anchor, the green glow roaring like a raging wildfire as it grew to encapsulate both of them. He saw the glowing gold form rise from Mailani's body and hover above it, a line of green keeping it tethered below. Saw the green light flex and explode once more, drawing the soul back down - into him. Saw his body collapse, limp, next to Mailani, their hands still joined even when he was unconscious.

He saw Jorath Amell approach them, saw him prod their hands with the bottom of his staff before he reached down and grabbed them in his own. Saw the resulting explosion throw the mage into the wall with enough force to bury him in a cascade of new stones.

He saw Bull and Solas appear, saw Solas bid Mailani a good journey to her final rest, and saw Bull roar and hit a boulder hard enough to break the bones in his hand. Saw them try to remove Mailani and give up when the boulders proved intractable, and saw them carry his own limp body from the tunnel.

He saw someone emerge from the shadows to pull Amell from his temporary tomb and awaken him. Saw the mask of rage on Amell's face as he slapped his rescuer hard enough make them stagger, then in the next moment pull them close for a searing kiss. Saw the two of them depart, unnoticed by any member of the Inquisition.

All that, Dorian saw before the invisible hand on his shoulder tugged him away once more, shoving him out of the past and back into the Fade.

With another gasp, his eyes popped open, and he leaned heavily into Mailani. Her face was even more wizened than before, her eyes almost sunken holes on her face. As his hand tightened around hers, he noticed that while his bones were whole, hers now ground together in a way that made her wince. "Mailani…"

"I'm sorry, Dorian," she said. "I had to give it to you. If I hadn't…"

"I understand," Dorian assured. "The Anchor in the hands of a man like that? It does not bear thinking about. What I don't understand is why a man like Amell would desire it in the first place."

"Who knows?" That was Alistair, who stood nearby with a grimace on his face. "I never really could understand his thinking. But if I were to try to guess, I'd say it was because he saw it as power, and that's all the bastard ever seemed to care about."

"What good would its power do for him, though?" Dorian asked, glancing down at the fitfully glowing mark with a furrowed brow.

"Do not discount the Anchor, Inquisitor," Solas cautioned. "You have used it to open and close rifts, but that does not mean that its powers begin and end there. Behold the manner in which the Herald was able to drive the demons into another part of the Fade. I think that control of the rifts is but a small portion of the power at your disposal. It would appear that Amell covets that power for his own use."

Bull crossed his arms over his chest. "So he'd be willing to fuck over the whole world so long as he got more power?"

Alistair snorted. "You don't know the man. I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't think he could take Coryphilus down himself. He managed to kill the archdemon and live. No one's ever done that before, either, and Amell is as arrogant as arrogant bastards can get."

"Or perhaps we are overlooking a much simpler answer," Solas suggested, expression turning thoughtful.

"And what is that?" Dorian asked.

"Amell is a Grey Warden." Solas looked around at the group. "A Grey Warden mage."

For a moment, they all stared at the elf in confusion, and then Alistair muttered a violent oath. "No. Andraste's flaming knickers, the thought makes my blood run cold."

"Well, shit," Dorian breathed. "That puts an entirely new horrible perspective on it, doesn't it?"

"If Corypheus has the ability to control the Blight as well as Erimond claimed, who is to say he did not corrupt Amell as well?" Leaning on his staff, Solas continued, "What if, during all this time, Corypheus has had one of the most powerful mages in Thedas working for him, out of sight and out of mind?"

"Is he really that clever?" Hawke asked skeptically.

"Coryphilus? I'm not sure. But Amell is," Alistair said decisively. "I'd bet my life on it."

"And if Amell was already looking for power," Varric added, "Corypheus would have been a pretty damned convenient cart to hitch his horse on."

Dorian shook his head and groaned. "We need to get out of here." And we need to find Cullen.

"Yes," Mailani agreed in a soft voice. "You do." The way her eyes bored into his made Dorian wonder if Mailani was speaking more to the words left unspoken than those he had uttered. Rising painfully to her feet, she lifted her hands high, feet leaving the ground as she rose to hover a few feet in the air. As she leaned her head back and took a deep breath, she began to glow with a pure golden light. In a few moments, the Mailani they had all known was gone, replaced by the glowing gold figure from the memory they had just witnessed.

When her transformation was complete, she dropped her chin to meet Dorian's gaze, and held up her left hand. A long green thread appeared, a pulsing band of energy which stretched between them and joined their marks. At both ends of the thread, the green glow of the Anchor flickered and danced, and for a moment, Dorian felt a tugging in his hand. In the next, the thread shattered into a thousand pieces of light, and the green light of her hand flickered and died for the last time. Floating down to hover in front of him, she touched two golden fingers to his forehead. "My time is past, Inquisitor. It is up to you to do what must be done."

Settling his hand over his heart, Dorian nodded as his eyes brimmed with tears. "I promise to live up to your legacy."

It was hard to see any details in the golden glow of her face, but he thought he saw a faint smile come to her face. "No. You need to make your own legacy now, and your own life." Pointing towards the rift, she said, "I will prepare the way ahead. Follow, and I shall see you one last time."

And in the next moment, she was gone.

Dorian took a long, shuddering breath as he reached up to rub his forehead. So much had happened so quickly that his mind was left whirling in response. In addition, he felt an odd emptiness inside, and wondered if it was simply the absence of Mailani, or something else entirely. He supposed only time would tell when it came to that.

In the meantime, he had work to do-and a promise to keep.

"Let's go," he said in a determined voice. "There's a demon waiting for us."

As they started towards the rift once more, each lost in their own thoughts, Hawke fell into step besides Dorian. "Do you really think the Nightmare has Cullen?"

"I don't see why it would lie about that," Dorian replied. "It must know that in this case, the truth is far more effective for feeding it our fears."

Reaching out to put his hand on Dorian's shoulder, Hawke said, "It will not have him. I promise you that, Dorian."

Startled, Dorian looked over at the man beside him. "I thought you and Cullen-"

"-weren't on the best of terms?" Hawke finished with a chuckle. "That is definitely true. But he's gone through enough in his life and… Well, let's just say I have my reasons."

At a loss for what to say, Dorian reached up and put his hand on top of the one resting on his shoulder. "Thank you, Hawke. I admit, I worry."

"I would be worried, too. Being in the hands of a demon is never pleasant." Hawke looked forward for a moment, jaws rippling. "Or the hands of someone equally dark."

When Hawke lapsed into silence, Dorian's brow furrowed. "Hawke?"

Hawke coughed and pulled his hand away. "It doesn't matter. We'll find Cullen and kick that demon's ass so far back into the Fade that even the wisps won't be able to find it."

"I'm glad to hear that," Dorian told him. "You are a formidable man, Hawke."

"Yes, well." Hawke gave a shrug. "They don't call me the Champion because I knit booties for orphans and write bad poetry."

"Pity," Dorian said with a smile. "Bad poetry is sometimes the best kind."

"Oh? Then you should read some of the stuff Varric writes."

"I heard that," Varric called ahead.

"Good. I meant you to," Hawke shouted back, then yanked his daggers from the sheaths at his hips. "I'll go scout ahead a bit. Don't worry, I won't lose sight of you. The last thing we need is for the Nightmare to get more hostages."

"From your mouth to the Maker's ears," Dorian murmured, looking around the Fade with a haunted look. Why does it have to be so complicated?

And where is Cullen?