Before Chapter note: For those of you that haven't read Dragon Age: Asunder, I have included some insight into what Cole was like before Inquisition! (YES, he makes an appearance. Finally.) For those of you that have read it? I hope I have done him justice.

"The Ghost of the Spire"

Cole couldn't remember the last time he was able to sit down and talk to anyone. Or if he even could. The only memories he had of was of this place. His first memories were of here. Getting dragged down into the darkness of the Pit. He even remembered the rough hands of the templars that took him down there, their grips bruising on his shoulder. Then he was thrown into a cell. No beatings came. Nothing. They just left him there.

He was left alone with only the empty sound of the deep hallways and the squeaking of rats. Not even the torchlight reached the cell that far back. So he had remained quiet. Still. Nothing but the occasional whimper escaping his chapped lips.

Was this the Maker's way of punishing him? He was being punished for being born. Being alive. Being a mage was a curse, at best. He didn't want to be a mage. But the days seemed to stretch on, during his time down there in that cell. It was so cold and dark. Sometimes rats would try to tear into his soft flesh, but he'd bat them away and cower in the corner. He prayed and prayed, hoping that they'd just forget he even existed.

Then one day, it happened. Perhaps he'd simply died that day, who knows? Did ghosts even remember their deaths?

Was he a ghost? Was this what happened after people died? But then again, did ghosts sleep? Did they get hungry?

He didn't know what he was.

Whatever he may be, he was to forever walk the halls of the White Spire unseen. It's all he's known. All he was. Cole didn't know it, but he craved it. For someone to be able to look at him. To see him.

Then, there were other times he was afraid. Much too afraid to even want to be seen. The emotion bubbling in his stomach like some sort of sickness. Usually this happened around the templars. Their imposing forms standing at the doorways, in the halls, patrolling. Always watching.

Presently, Cole stood in the hallway. The young man was watching two humans giggle and whisper to one another. Two young women pressed against one another, hands grabbing at their shirts.

There were many hidden corners in the great tower, where they would often go to hide from the templar's prying eyes. Cole was privy to such hiding places and knew all of them. Though he did not come into the upper halls that often. Usually the mages would lean in and whisper things to one another. Gossip and spread information. Other times they'd do... this.

He felt his blonde hair shift against his face as he tilted his head, watching them try to eat one another. Or... kiss. Kissing. It was rather interesting, what the mages did on their freetime. Most of the time they simply read books or sat with their friends. Other times, like now, they'd go off into a private corridor and kiss. Among other things.

The young man tensed as he heard heavy footsteps approaching. Cole slowly turned his head, freezing up as a tall man shouted. "Oi oi, break it up will ya?! Get back to the common area!"

The mage couple separated as if burned, fear winning out as they sputtered excuses and apologies. The templar simply waved his hands in a shooing motion. They scuttled off, scared. The armored man remained, standing in front of Cole. He could have sworn he would turn around and ask him why he was there. Maybe get angry. But instead he put his hands on his hips and sighed, shaking his head at the retreating forms.

The man was frowning, his facial hair hiding much of his expression. Most of the time the templars were suspicious of the mages and thought them to be conspiring against them. Then there were others, much like the man there, that knew otherwise. Bradford, he thinks his name was.

More often than not, however, the templars held the mages in contempt. Hated them, even. The tall man turned and scanned the empty white hallway. His eyes passed over Cole, completely ignoring him. The sun from the stained window cast light across the man's aged features as he turned back around and began to walk away.

They never did see him, did they? He should be grateful that the templars couldn't. There was only one person he knew that could see and remember him everytime they met. A friend.

Before, it had been no one. Absolutely no one. The loneliness that he felt, even now, made him feel hollow. Not whole. Even though this meager existence was all he knew, it somehow felt … wrong. Something was off. He couldn't put his finger on it.

He was wrong.

But—Cole felt his eyes dilate into pinpricks, his heart beating irregularly. The templar's departing footsteps a slow echo as time seemed to slow. The darkness, it was there. Gripping and clawing at his insides. He shifted on his feet and he could have sworn the floor felt softer. Like he was sinking in.

Not again.

Cole swallowed thickly as he turned and scampered off down the white hallways, panicked. He tried to ignore the way the ground felt. The way he felt on the inside, the way it seemed to get colder.

He tried to ignore the thoughts that maybe he would fall through the ground. Down down down. Like it wanted to swallow him whole. The air felt thicker. He needed—he had to-

He hardly ever came up to the upper part of the tower, to be honest. Oh, why did he have to come up here? Cole didn't feel comfortable being up in the wide bright spaces of the upper floors. Where the sunlight was almost blinding.. He much preferred the darkness, in the bowels of the tower. The stairs ascended into the earth, his feet tapping against the stone as he stumbled his way down.

He passed the first few floors of the lower chambers, which contained the kitchens and armories. Then came the archives, where the stored the books not kept in the upper libraries. Then came the last floor, deep deep beneath the tower itself. This was the oldest part of the tower called 'The Pit'.

The place where he spent most of his time, filled with crumbling walls deteriorating with age. Rickety stairwells that led to storerooms even deeper and untouched in what seemed to be decades. Some of the passages were even flooded, barring any type of travel.

Cole was very familiar with every nook and cranny, having explored it at length. All but what lay at it's heart. The dungeons in the Pit. He only went there unless he absolutely needed to.

Take this instance, for example.

He stumbled through the door, his gaze slipping over toward the candlelit table that was around the corner. The guard sat there, keeping watch. Or, he should be. He was asleep. His fingers twitched, his eyes never leaving the ring of keys that dangled on the far wall.

The man didn't even stir as Cole grabbed them when he walked by. The only indication he was even there being a soft snort as he rubbed his face. The guard remained still, eyes shut and mind far far away within the realm of sleep.

Cole could swear he could feel himself slowly fading. Becoming one with the shadows. They tried to consume him. Panicked, he scurried down the hall filled with many cells. It only seemed to get darker as he continued on.

The young man wasn't sure how to explain the feeling he had. As he got closer to the cell. His feet tapped against the aged stone, the feeling somehow … calling out to him.

'No no, not now. Not yet. Can't-' He fumbled with the cloth in his pocket, pulling it out and revealing a glowstone. The dim blue light illuminated the chambers, allowing him to see a darkened and slumped form in the corner of the cell.

'Click'

The cell door unlocked and screeched on it's hinges, echoing down the hall ominously. His eyes trailed up from the floor and onto the slumped form. The form twitched and turned over weakly. The young boy's pointed ears showed through his matted hair, brown eyes staring up at him in fear.

"A-Are you..." He spoke weakly through chapped lips. "W-who are you?"

He could see him.

"My name...is Cole." He answered as he set the glowstone down in the middle of the cell. He stared at him unblinkingly, observing him as she sat up and stared at him. The look in his eyes not unlike what he's seen before. When a person has given up. The elven boy's blank stare met his own, a frown etched onto his features.

"You are no templar." He spoke plainly, "Are you here to kill me?"

His brown eyes were locked onto the ornate dagger in Cole's hand. The brass hilt carved into the head of a dragon. The elven boy seemed calm. Almost eerily calm in the face of what was about to happen. Cole slowly made his way closer to him. So close that he could feel his ragged breaths on his face. He made no move to run.

"I can make it all go away." He informed, holding the dagger up as he stared into his eyes. "Just look at me."

And just like the many other times, without any hesitation, the boy looked at him. Brown on blue. Looked into him. He was, at that moment, the most important thing in the world to him. He was the one giving him a way out of this world. This world so full of terror and pain. Tears pooled at the edges of the elven boy's eyes as he lifted the dagger and pointed it at him.

The boy took a deep breath. With that, soft flesh gave way as he plunged it into his chest. The boy's eyes widened, a squelching sound echoing through the chamber.

With one sharp twist, the boy's mouth erupted with blood. It soaked the front of Cole's leather tunic and trickled in thick rivulets underneath his neckline. The mage's body fell limp and he slowly guided it onto the damp stone. Even in death, his eyes were wide open. He saw him. Looked at him. Right through him. Cole watched the light slowly die in his eyes.

In that moment, he felt like he was beginning to remember something as he stared down at the dead body of the elven boy. The dark substance coated the front of his chest, blooming like a deadly flower. His eyes stared up at him accusingly. Something in his chest gave a twist and he placed his head between his knees, trying to rid the feeling.

Go away go away.

Cole let out a shuddering breath, bloody fingers pulling at the ends of his hair. The darkness receded, seeping back into the cracks. The stone no longer felt soft. No fear of falling. Not yet. Not now. Not again. In that moment, Cole was safe.

"I heard it over here!"

Heavy armored footfalls came down the hallway and toward the open cell door. Cole took a step back and stood still, eyes wide. Even though he knew that they wouldn't see him, the fear was still there. The young man didn't move as they entered the cell, swords drawn.

A gasp, as one of the men walked up to the elven boy in the middle of the cell. His fingertips dragged along the blood, still hot and seeping out of his body.

"Another one, ya see this?" He whispered, fear coloring his tone.

"N-No. H-How? How?" The younger one by the cell door asked, eyes darting around looking for an enemy. Anything. Anyone.

Cole was too afraid to move. He wanted nothing more than to dart out into the hallway and run away. But his body wouldn't obey.

Don't see me. Please don't see me.

One began to speak frantically to the larger one. He frowned at the smaller templar and grumbled about paperwork before stomping out of the cell. Cole was shaking as he grabbed the keys and slowly followed behind them, ignoring the sound of the gate closing with a resounding 'click!'

He placed the ring of keys back on the wall where they were supposed to be, his ears immediately twitching at the new sound of the door above slamming shut. The sound echoed down the barren hallway, causing the two templars beside him to look up.

There was a lot of activity. More so than usual, he noticed. Once again he froze in place, standing against the wall and hoping that they didn't look his way.

"Looks like 'e bagged another one." Bradford, he recognized, grunted as a few more came down the narrow staircase with a small form positioned between them. A boy dangled lifelessly, brown matted hair fell in front of his face. Or, what was left of it. Most of his hair seemed to be almost chopped off in the back. Longer pieces dangled lifelessly, framing freckled features.

The young human's arms were bandaged heavily, obviously from some wound of sorts.

"Shouldn't the kid have cuffs? Standard protocol states-" The youngest and smallest of the group was promptly cut off.

"Yeah yeah. He didn't put up much of a fight. Little one, he is. Give me yours." A scraggly man held out his hand, asking for a pair from Bradford. The cuffs, Cole knew, prevented the mage from channeling mana. He stood absolutely still as the four templars froze and looked at the small mage, as if startled.

The air around them suddenly sparked to life and Cole could feel the hairs on his arms stand on end. What was this?

Then everything was awash in blue, bright light wrapping up his bandaged arms as he focused—lightning? The two holding the young mage were knocked back onto the ground, convulsing. The light crackled and discharged in the air, shifting around him. Cole shivered, but remained still. The boy's head snapped up, fierce brown eyes flicking back and forth. He could have sworn he stared at Cole for a moment before deeming him not a threat and instead focusing on the templars.

This only seemed to startle Cole even more. Could he-?

"Ah!" The youngest one unsheathed his sword and pointed it at the boy, only to be interrupted by his superior. Bradford held out his arm to stop the young initiate. The young mage snarled, blue light flickering across his freckled face. The electricity was like a cloak, a defense mechanism of some sort.

"Hold!" Bradford yelled and pointed at the mage, causing him to stop casting altogether. That's when the young mage fell to the ground and began to convulse beside his escorts. Cole didn't know why, but the air felt different now. Almost empty. Barren. The mage certainly didn't seem to like it at all. He simply lay there, groaning in pain. "I should kill you, but you're not worth the paperwork. The higher ups get to decide your fate, little one."

Cole heard him mutter something about being 'to young to die, anyway'.

Bradford grabbed him by the hair after he'd fastened the cuffs on him, then began to drag him to a cell.

"Ser Bradford? But what about Edward and Paul?" The initiate was clearly shaken, sword still drawn. Bradford let out an irritated grunt as he took slow calculated steps down the hallway, moving around Cole subconsciously.

"Fuck Edward and Paul. The kid didn't put enough bite into the spell, anyway. They're fine." Bradford shouted and tossed the boy in with one heave. His body rolled a few times before coming to a stop in the middle of the small space. Cole blinked, but remained still. The door shut with a loud 'clink!' "First a young elven boy gets murdered under my watch, now this little—shit. Edward probably got too cocky while out on a job, that git!"

"But-"

"Did I ask for your opinion? I've gotta go write a damn report." He stomped by, "Register the kid, I'll be back."

"S-Ser!" He saluted sloppily and walked into a nearby room. By then, Edward and Paul had reluctantly gotten up. Much to the dismay of the eldest templar, who dragged them off up the staircase. All the while, lecturing them and calling them idiots.

With that, Cole was left alone in silence. Again.

But wasn't he always? No one ever truly saw him. Not for long, anyway. Then it was like he never existed.

But it got him thinking. Didn't that boy see him, in his panic to fight back? His eyes didn't simply pass over him like the others did. He'd...he'd made eye contact.

A dream of a dream. Recurring, repeating. The girl was running and running, but couldn't seem to get away from the booming voice above. The cackling. It wanted her, constantly haunting her. The little girl's black hair was messy as she stumbled and fell, the sludge on the ground keeping her in place.

"Leave me alone!" She cried, brown eyes welling up with tears. No no, she couldn't get hurt.

Then light. The light flashed, burning away the darkness and sludge on the ground. Leaving only the pristine whiteness of the room. Even the cackling monster was gone. Just gone. Like that.

"He can't hurt you. He won't." The white shadow informed, kneeling next to the girl. She shivered and looked up at him, familiarity ringing true on her features.

"How do you know?" She asked, as the figure leaned even further in—seeing into her. Their noses almost touched.

"I won't let him."