"Hey, you gonna stare out the window all day or what?"

I yelped, falling off my chair and smacking into the floor. The ceiling supports stared back at me, and I groaned. Rubbing my leg, I glanced to the doorway. Kianna stood there, leaning against the doorframe and struggling to hold back hysterics. My cheeks flushed. I hadn't heard her enter my room.

"Maker, you must've really been out in the Fade if that scared you!" She offered her hand. I took it, returning to my feet.

"You could've said something first," I said, righting the chair.

"I did. About eight times, and then I gave up." She playfully tapped my forehead. "You've been skulking in here for days, and for what? You passed your Harrowing, you're one of us now! We should be celebrating."

I sighed, glancing to the new silver ring on my finger. "I know, but I nearly didn't get through it. It was a close call."

"Pfft, everyone says that," Kianna scoffed. "Just because you didn't do it in ten seconds flat. A pass is a pass, you know." She prodded my shoulder. "Typical that you'd feel bad, huh. You always want to get the highest grade in everything. Well, how about Her Royal Highness comes down to Ostwick for a second and makes some time for her best friend instead?"

I laughed. Kianna always knew how to cheer me up. We'd both been brought to the Circle at the same time, and had never been apart since. She'd come from the slums in Kirkwall, an orphan, but nobody would guess as much, given her cheerful demeanour. It had certainly made the adjustment of living in the Circle tower a lot easier. Being a little older, she'd passed her Harrowing last year, but she had been looking forward to mine ever since.

"You make it sound like you have plans," I said, raising a brow.

"Maybe I do," Kianna answered, her eyes sparkling. "You're not an apprentice anymore, and that means the real fun can begin. Come on."

I followed her out into the corridor, wondering what mischief she had planned. It was a sunny day outside, and the light filtered through the gothic windows of the tower. The place I'd called home for the last ten years, and would do so for the foreseeable future.

"So which demon did you face?" Kianna asked, brushing back her blonde hair as she descended the stairs. "Pride, I bet."

"Actually it was a Desire demon," I said.

"Really? That's a surprise," Kianna answered. She pushed through the hall, entering the ground floor library. We passed the dusty shelves, crossing to the other side of the tower, then emerged by the Templar's quarters.

"Why are we here?" I asked, glancing around. I'd always found this part of the tower most intimidating. Even though I'd become a fully realised Mage, it still sent shivers down my spine. "Not planning to steal Ser Finnigan's boots again, are you?"

"Nah, he's not worth it these days." Kianna waved her hand dismissively. "I've been looking for a challenge, and I think I've found it." She turned to me, grinning. "You remember that spell you used when…"


All eyes turned to the dining hall doors when Templar Lieutenant Ser Risa entered. Unusually her cloak hood was raised, and she walked straight to her table. I had to bite my lip to stop myself bursting into giggles. Kianna kept a completely straight face, though her eyes gave away her amusement. As Risa took her seat, her hood slipped, revealing purple flowers that grew straight out of her dark locks. The Mages on our table and even a few Templars snickered, while the others gawked. Ser Risa didn't bat an eyelid, helping herself to some vegetables and not at all distracted by the petals that kept falling into her plate.

"It's from Orlais," the Lieutenant announced, when she could stand the staring no longer. "I did not realise its true effects until it was too late. It will wash out, I presume."

The Templars beside her nodded sagely, while everyone else struggled to contain their laughter.

"I didn't know our Lieutenant would look so fetching in purple," Kianna whispered, and I choked back a snort. "Accents her eyes, don't you think?"

"I can't believe she fell for it!" I said quietly. Kianna had asked me to concoct a botanical potion, and had switched the Lieutenant's usual hair dye for it. I had to admit I was quite pleased with the result.

"I've waited months for this," Kianna replied, "ever since she started using that revolting Orlesian hair dye. You can smell it from miles off! But you know I'm useless with potions. That's why I needed you."

I smirked, watching the frustrated Templars beside Ser Risa brush the falling petals from their food. The flowers wilted fast. Kianna slapped my back, and I coughed.

"This is just the beginning, my friend," she declared. "Things are about to get more exciting around here!"


"Mage Trevelyan, open your door at once!"

The shouts of a Templar broke through sleep, and I blinked. A few days had passed since the flower incident, but Ser Risa hadn't made any formal complaint; she still believed it had been a mix-up with her Orlesian supplier. So why were they disturbing me at this hour?

The knocking came again, louder, and I groggily sat up.

"I'm coming." Yawning, I stumbled to my door, pulling a cloak over my shoulders. I'd barely undone the latch when it was thrust open, and the Templar—Ser Brogan—grabbed me. His eyes narrowed, and he nodded to his comrades. They entered my room without consent, and started foraging through my desk, wardrobe and drawers.

"Wait, what's going on?!" My heart started to pound. What did they think they were doing?

"Here it is," one of the other Templars said. He was at my desk, and had pulled a tome from the drawer. It had a dark leather cover with metal edges, and a symbol was printed on the front. I'd never seen it before.

"You're ransacking my room in the middle of the night for a book?" I was incredulous.

"Not just any book, Trevelyan," Ser Brogan said sternly. "One of your colleagues kindly tipped us off that you were dabbling with blood magic, and now we've the proof. The Knight-Lieutenant will decide your fate in the morning."

"What?!" Despite myself I struggled against him. "That's a lie! I've never even—"

"Save your excuses for the Knight-Lieutenant," Ser Brogan cut me off. "You'll have plenty of time to refine them in the holding cells."

"This isn't fair, you can't do this!" I cried. "I haven't done anything!"

The rest of my protests were cut short as Ser Brogan elbowed me in the jaw. Blood soured my lip, and I fell silent. I had always been amicable towards the Templars; this treatment was uncalled for. How could they justify dragging me out in the middle of the night? What happened to my right to defend myself?

I shook my head as I was led away. This was just a horrible misunderstanding; the Knight-Lieutenant would understand. I had never been enticed by blood magic, and certainly wouldn't know where to access resources relating to it. Someone had done this on purpose to frame me.

One of the Templars threw me my clothes, and I drew them close as I was taken towards the holding cells. I had only seen the cells once before, when I was six years old and had first been brought to the Circle. They were placed at the lowest level near the entrance—a warning to all apprentices to the fate that awaited should they be tempted to abuse their powers. I never imagined I would have to see it again ten years later, from the inside.

The Templar guards waiting at the cells saluted Ser Brogan. One opened the first cell, and I was shoved inside. The door clicked closed, leaving me in almost pitch blackness. On impulse I conjured a spark of Veilfire. A hard oak plank with a pillow served as my bedding, and the walls were solid stone. I sat down, dumping my clothes, and clenched my fist. Now my confusion was starting to fade, replaced by wild anger. I had always abided by the rules, had never drawn too much attention to myself and had never, ever, ventured into the forbidden arts. How dare they treat me like this, dragging me out like a dog in the middle of the night! Surely finding a strange book in my room hardly counted as evidence? Why were they being so harsh?

And who hated me enough to make the effort to frame me?

The questions continued to rage, and I sighed. I'd get no answers tonight.

I'd just have to make them see the truth tomorrow.


"Mage Trevelyan, you stand accused of a very high crime indeed," Knight-Lieutenant Halloway said. She sat behind her desk, her fingers knitted together, her grey eyes keen. "How do you plead?"

"Not guilty," I said calmly. "I've never had intent to use blood magic, nor any means by which to gain knowledge of such. I was not aware of the book discovered in my quarters."

"I see," the Knight-Lieutenant said. "Then what about these, which were also found in your possession?"

Ser Brogan stepped forward, and tossed a small bag onto the desk. The Knight-Lieutenant emptied it, and out fell several items. A scroll flecked with blood, a small knife that was similarly stained, and a phylactery.

My phylactery.

By the Maker, this had to be a cruel joke…

"It appears blood magic was used to break the protective ward on your phylactery during the early hours of the morning two days ago," the Knight-Lieutenant said. "And now we have found it in your possession. Do you still plead not guilty?"

"Maker, I swear I didn't do anything!" I offered my hands, showing off my wrists. "Look, do you see any scars on me, any fresh wounds? Where would I have taken the blood from?"

"An unwilling victim," Ser Brogan said. "She reported everything to us, knowing that she would be the first to be suspect. It was extremely brave of her indeed."

"Victim? Who?" I snapped.

"You should know very well who it was," Ser Brogan snarled. "Since you have always considered her your closest friend. She told us your entire plan."

My mouth went dry. No, he couldn't mean…not Kianna. Maker, this wasn't happening. I was dreaming, this had to be a nightmare…

"Kianna will recover physically, but the mental wounds will take longer," Knight-Lieutenant Halloway said. Her voice was grave. "It seems you cannot argue against such hard evidence. I cannot say I am not disappointed, for you were a model Mage, alas it seems even the best of you can fall to temptation."

"I didn't break the ward." My voice was feeble. "By Andraste's soul, I swear I'm innocent."

"We will put your testament to your mentor, Lydia, and the First Enchanter," the Knight-Lieutenant said. "However, should they arrive at the same judgement as I, your punishment will be harsh."


I stood in the centre of the tower's main chamber, my wrists shackled, and on display for all to see. Twelve Templars circled me, watching like hawks. To think I had only been here a few days before, about to face my Harrowing. Now that victory had become utterly hollow. Lydia and the First Enchanter had reviewed my case, and while Lydia was adamant I would never venture down the path of blood magic, the First Enchanter could not be swayed. Together with the Knight-Lieutenant, they had judged, and sentenced me to the Rite of Tranquility. A fate worse than death.

I shivered. My hopes and fears, my feelings and thoughts; all would be cast away into the Fade, and I would remain an empty husk. I hadn't even been allowed to speak to Kianna and confront her about it all. I still couldn't believe she had done this. Why had she betrayed me? When we had done everything together, had supported each other, and so much more? She had never confided that she had any interest in blood magic. Yet how long had she been planning for me to take the fall for her?

Senior Enchanter Lydia stood before me, along with the First Enchanter. He was holding a vial of lyrium. Lydia's face was ashen, and she couldn't bear to meet my eyes. I knew how much she hated this practice, and what she must be feeling considering her own student was about to face it. I had long since given up my protestations. The Knight-Lieutenant and the First Enchanter had all the evidence they needed, and nothing I could say would sway them. What was the point, anyway?

I'd lost everything.

The First Enchanter stepped forwards, the Knight-Lieutenant at his side.

"Mage Trevelyan, it is with a heavy heart that I must commence upon you the Rite of Tranquility," the First Enchanter said. "Once complete, you will no longer have access to the Fade, be that in dreams or via your magic. You will lose your power, but also the risk of possession. This rite has been chosen as part of your best interests, lest we…"

He was interrupted as the chamber doors flew open.

"Stop the ritual at once!"

I turned to the chamber entrance. Stephan, one of the younger Mages, had appeared, along with Ser Finnigan. They had brought Kianna with them. Her head was downcast, and her exposed wrists rich in scars.

"Such intrusion will not be tolerated, Mage Brannick," the Knight-Lieutenant said, frowning, but Ser Finnigan spoke up.

"Forgive us, Knight-Lieutenant, but we could not stand by and let an innocent be unfairly punished." He hauled Kianna to her feet, but she refused to make eye-contact. "Speak your confession as you did to Stephan!"

Kianna said nothing for a long moment. Stephan snarled, and snatched her wrist. She scowled, and then finally found her voice.

"It was me." Her usual light-hearted tone had disappeared. "I did it. I used blood magic to break the ward and steal the phylactery."

The First Enchanter stared. "What?"

"Why did you try to frame Mage Trevelyan for this?" Lydia spoke. Even though her voice was soft, it had an edge sharper than steel.

"Because she deserved it!" Kianna pushed Stephan aside, her glare venomous. When she didn't elaborate, Stephan sighed.

"She was jealous of her power," he said. "She wanted Trevelyan to be made Tranquil, and while everyone was distracted with the ritual, she planned to take her own phylactery and flee the Circle."

"That was how we caught her," Ser Finnigan added. "Please Knight-Lieutenant, end this false ceremony and rend your judgment on the true guilty party."

A stunned silence filled the chamber. I stared at Kianna, a dull ache throbbing in my chest. She'd been jealous of me? Since when? For ten years—ten long years filled with cherished memories of laughter and love and hardship and sorrow—she had been everything to me. Nothing like this had ever come between us.

What happened…why had she changed?

Eventually Knight-Lieutenant Halloway sighed, and signalled to her soldiers. Ser Brogan approached, unlocking my shackles, and he bowed in apology. I barely acknowledged him, instead striding to Kianna's side. She didn't look up at me.

"Was it always just a lie?" I asked softly. "Were you just using me all along?"

Kianna huffed.

"You were never worth anything to me," she muttered. "You should be thankful I managed to find a use for you in the end."

Ser Brogan frowned, stepping forward. He clasped her wrists in the same shackles, then led her away. I watched her leave, tears pricking my eyes, but I forced them back. I would not give her the privilege.

"I'm sorry." Stephan reached out to me, but I brushed his hand aside.

"You've done enough for me," I said simply. "Thanks."

"Trevelyan…"

I didn't answer and walked away.


The vision ended, and I sat bolt upright, my brow soaked in sweat. My breath came in short gasps, and I grasped my chest. A dull ache had settled there—a pain I'd thought buried forever—and it wouldn't budge. I curled up on the bedroll, suddenly feeling cold. The mere recollection of her name made bile rise in my throat, and I swallowed it back. Why was Kianna back to haunt me? Why could I recall every moment of that torment with such clarity?

The Nightmare's final gift.

"Inquisitor?"

I startled, looking up. Cassandra was nearby, sitting outside her tent. We were surrounded by tall stone walls, and a fire blazed amidst our camp. It seemed we had remained in the Western Approach, and were residing in the Griffin's Wing Keep. The sky was dark, flecked with stars, and the air was cold. I started to shiver, so I drew my blanket closer.

Cassandra stood up and approached, her eyes filled with worry.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, sitting beside me.

"I…what happened?" I asked, rubbing my eyes. I didn't want to dwell on the dream.

"You don't remember?" Cassandra let out a sigh. "After we escaped the Fade, you closed the rift, but then you fell unconscious. It has been almost a day since then. And you didn't answer my question."

I stared at my lap. How did I feel? Hurt, betrayed, angry

"I'll be alright," I lied. "Getting back my memories was quite overwhelming."

"I can imagine," Cassandra said. "I'm sorry." She made to touch my shoulder, and I flinched, reminded too closely of the memory. Cassandra withdrew her hand, puzzled. She soon let it drop, however, and turned to the fire. "So, what is our next step? We have yet to decide what to do with the Wardens, although Corypheus's hold on them has fallen."

"We'll…We'll discuss that in the morning," I said, hoping to seize on the distraction. But even then I couldn't shake the feelings off.

"I expected as much. Rest well, my friend."

Cassandra stood, then departed back to her tent. I remained sitting, listening to the crackling fire and quiet chatter of the night watch. I had buried that pain so deep I hadn't even remembered it was still there—and the Nightmare had been holding it close as its trump card. Now it had been returned to me, still as painful as when I'd been in that chamber, about to be made Tranquil. It wasn't right. How could something from so long ago continue to hold such power over me?

I shook my head, glancing to the mark on my left hand. I'd been vulnerable and afraid as young apprentice, and had opened myself too much. I'd given my trust too freely, and paid the price for it.

I would not let that happen again.