My weary eyes stared at the pages on my lap. I must've re-read the same line over forty times, but I barely registered a single word. I was sitting in an older part of Skyhold; a small, dusty library behind the gardens that had yet to be restored. It was the only place I'd found respite. My other haunts were constantly watched, and this side was much less well known. At least here I wouldn't be disturbed every few minutes, or worse, have to face the rest of my companions.

Each of them had approached throughout the week, voicing the same question, and I'd brushed them all aside. Cassandra had been particularly persistent, despite still struggling with her injuries. It had been hard enough to watch her limp, much less hear her claims that she didn't hold me responsible. Again she'd demanded to know what was wrong, and my only answer had been to turn away in shame. Had the healer not caught up and demanded she return to have her wounds redressed, I might not have escaped at all. But this was becoming more and more difficult. Our progress against Corypheus had all but come to a stand-still, and the entire Inquisition was growing restless.

But when I simply couldn't overcome that which lay within…

I slammed the book closed. Even without the mounting tension, every day was a hurdle, and my resolve was failing. To force orders from my lips, to concentrate on defence plans, even just to meet eyes with my advisors had become so draining, so intimidating. As well as that, sleep had turned into an endless nightmare. My dreams were filled with terrible visions and taunting voices, and neither would let me rest. I could not count the times I'd startled awake, drenched in sweat and fighting for breath, Kianna's face always haunting.

Now I had no-where else to turn. Cole had been my only chance at freedom, and he'd cruelly dashed the last of my hope. Trapped between a past set in stone and a future I couldn't face, all that was left was the painful, bitter truth. I was nothing. I was no Herald; a pathetic title that let me pretend I had purpose, had worth. I was just a pawn against Corypheus, as easily replaced as a tarnished blade. In fact, if not for this mark, I'd have been discarded long ago. Nobody truly cared for me, and why should they? I was a plaything to be thrown aside, whose feelings were irrelevant and meaningless. And I didn't need any of them, either.

So why then did that thought still burn? How could I desire companionship so badly, then deny it in the same breath? It wasn't as if I were a stranger to loneliness. It shouldn't be like this.

Just what in Andraste's name did I really want?

A shuffle from the wall caught my ear, and I snapped my head towards it. Maker, don't tell me they'd found me already. Discarding the book, I rose from my cobwebbed seat and walked towards the source of the noise. As I came closer to where the cement had decayed, voices became apparent. They must have been next door, in the shrine of Andraste. I ran my hand down the wall, picking out a crevice, then knelt down, pressing my ear to it.

"This is getting out of hand." Cassandra's voice was stern. "She's not deployed us on any further missions, nor has she spoken with me properly since the…incident." She let out a sigh. "I am so very worried for her."

"She's not been herself since we came back from Adamant." Varric added. "She's been avoiding everyone like the Blight. And Solas told me she visited Cole last night, asking him to 'help her forget'." He paused, letting his words sink in. "Not that anything came of it, but even so, something's really gotten to her if she went that far."

"She can't still harbour guilt about the Divine's death?" Cassandra was incredulous. "Trevelyan always seemed so sure of herself, so determined, yet all that appears to have disappeared. I never imagined anything would shatter her resolve like this."

"What about Warden Alastair's sacrifice?" Blackwall asked. "Although as you say, we've faced similar losses before, and she's pulled through them alright."

"I do not think that, or even the Divine's sacrifice, would impact our Inquisitor so dramatically," Josephine piped up. "The Nightmare clearly returned something else to her, something from her past that has sent her into this state."

"A trauma," Leliana said, catching onto her line of thought. "Perhaps a betrayal long forgotten, and now rudely awakened." There was something in her voice that might have been empathy. "Yet even if that is the case, it's no excuse to keep the truth from us. We can't help if she doesn't tell us what is wrong."

"There must be something we can do!" Cullen was getting flustered. "I dislike seeing her so troubled. And she can't keep hiding away forever."

"Hmph, you've seen how well our actions have been received so far," Leliana scoffed.

"Yes, because punching her in the face was sure to be a success," Dorian said dryly.

"But the more we try to coax her, the further she withdraws!" Leliana argued.

"The rest of the Inquisition has noticed, too, and rumours are only going to stack up," Cullen added. "We can't let things continue as they are."

"I completely agree," Josephine said. "That is why I asked you all here, to pool for ideas on what to do." There was a pause. "So, any offers? I have a few things in mind…"

I pulled away from the crevice, leaving them to their discussion. I wasn't interested. Let them plot and plan; it would not work. Nothing they offered would tame my fears, and since it had come down to this, I'd choose loneliness over uncertainty. I had borne that familiar pain for so many years, had taught myself to accept its embrace well. If only these sparks of friendship hadn't touched me, hadn't made that bleak existence so unbearable that I could no longer submerge myself in it.

I would simply have to learn to endure again.

Sighing, I headed back to the shelves. As I made to replace my book, the one beside it slipped and clattered to the floor. Frowning, I scooped it up, when its title caught my eye. Curious, I opened it to the first page. It was a translated dwarven text, written by a guild called the 'Shaperate'. That word stirred something, so I casually flicked through.

My eyes scanned the chapter headings, and that was when I finally remembered. It had been part of our history lessons back in the Circle. The Shaperate Guild was responsible for recording dwarven history via memories. And this particular book…

I swallowed, afraid to let my hope stir again.

I needed to show this to Dagna.


The undercroft was pleasantly cool and dark. I stepped through the narrow door, the roar of the rushing waterfall echoing ahead. Hints of spray flecked my cheeks, and I could taste the scent of burning coal. Harritt was standing over the forge, toiling away, while Dagna was at her table, studying a set of crystals. She soon spotted me, however, and waved.

"Hey there!" She abandoned her studies and walked to my side. "How's it going, Inquisitor?"

"Not bad, I guess." I managed to feign a smile. Dagna was always so absorbed in her work, she probably hadn't caught on to recent events. At least that worked in my favour. "I found something you might be interested in."

"Aw, you're always giving me gifts," Dagna chimed. "What is it this time? A fancy rune? Some enchanted relic?"

"Just this." I handed the book over, and she took it eagerly. She twirled the tome between her hands, skimming the pages.

"Ah, I see, this is a Shaperate Guild text," she said. "I'm surprised you found one on the surface." She began to read through the chapter headings, and her eyes widened. "Wow, this is old alright! Nice find. Anything you want me to do with it?"

"I just want to confirm something first," I said. "If I recall correctly, the Shaperate Guild are responsible for recording memories, right?"

"Yup," Dagna said. "Not the fanciest work, but one of the most important. I'm impressed you know so."

"So if the Shaperate know how to record memories," I went on, "is it a stretch to think they know how to remove them as well?" I gestured to the book. "That text seemed to say as much."

Dagna chewed her lip.

"First I've heard of it," she admitted. "Though I was in the Blacksmith Caste, so it's not like I'm an expert in this area. But far as I know, the Shaperate set memories in lyrium. They don't remove them, they just record them. If you're telling me this book has other ideas, though…"

"Can you see if it can be done?"

"Sure, if that's what you want," Dagna shrugged. "Let me give this a read, then I'll see if I've got what I'll need."

She returned to her workbench, and started reading the book. It didn't take her long to finish. Then she stood up, sifting through the crystals. I followed, watching as she looked from the book to her materials several times. Then she strode over to a chest and took out a small pouch and a vial of lyrium. She placed it amidst the crystals, satisfied.

"Well, you're in luck," she proclaimed. "It looks like I've got everything. Give me a few minutes and I'll see what I can do."

Nodding, I sat on a chest, my anticipation welling up. Dagna brought out some tools from a drawer, and then set to work. After almost an hour of meticulous measuring, carving, and constant reference to the book, she was finished. She dropped her tools, dusted her gloved hands, and then carefully picked up her handiwork. It was an ivory crystal, flecked with veins of lyrium.

"There we go." She beckoned me forward. "So, this is a standard memory crystal, but with a couple of modifications. If what the book said is correct, it'll record a memory and at the same time 'blank out' the original. So it won't erase it entirely, but the person will find it harder to recall."

I nodded.

"It only stores one memory though," Dagna went on. She chuckled. "So don't think you can use it to brainwash anyone."

"That wasn't my intent," I said.

"The other catch is that they have to be willing to let go of it," Dagna added, "otherwise the blanking effect doesn't really work."

"I see." That was easy enough; I could not wait to be rid of it. "So how do I get it to work?"

"Just touch it with a drop of blood," Dagna said, "and then picture the memory in question. The crystal will do the rest."

"Thank you, Dagna."

"No worries!"

I took the crystal, then headed out of the undercroft. Soon I was back in my quarters, studying the ivory relic. Glowing veins of lyrium ran up its sides, and I let out a breath. It was going to be hard to picture that memory again, but I'd endure it one more time if it meant I'd be rid of it forever. This had to work.

The broken mirror shards remained on my bedside table, yet to be cleared, so I picked one up. Tensing, I pricked my thumb with it, letting the blood well into a drop. The veins on the crystal glowed, sensing power. I brushed my thumb across it, and then I was thrown into the halls of the Ostwick Circle. I gritted my teeth, forced to observe the events playing out, every conflicted emotion of joy and fear and betrayal surging through me. They swarmed, suffocating, and my breath caught in my throat, trapped. No, I can't…let it stop…stop it now!

"…you should be thankful I managed to find a use for you in the end!"

A white-hot sensation burned my hand, and the world turned black.


"Inquisitor, wake up!"

Warm hands were at my shoulders, giving me a firm shake. The movement jolted the darkness, and my eyes began to open. I was on the floor, the crystal still between my fingers. My thumb was sore, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest. Tears blurred my vision, and I lay there for a moment, the dim realisation setting in. Maker, it wasn't fair.

Why must all my attempts at freedom end in failure?

"Oh, thank the Maker!" The hands moved, helping me sit up. I wiped my eyes, catching the scent of wildflowers, and the room came into focus. Everything was saturated in darkness, and she was right beside me, her olive-skin and dark hair kissed with moonlight.

Josephine.

"What happened?" she asked, her eyes falling to my cut hand. "Are you hurt? I saw blood and…"

"I'm fine." I withdrew from her hold and pulled myself upright. My legs were still a bit unsteady, so I promptly sat on my bed. I kept a hold of the crystal, fighting the urge to smash it against the wall. Kianna's memory continued to burn inside, and my arm shook. Dagna had promised me it would work! Why was I to be denied once more?!

"I don't believe you." Josephine stood before me, arms folded. "Enough is enough, Inquisitor. We need to talk."

Her face was intent, assertive. There was to be no argument.

Too bad for her.

"There's nothing to talk about." I returned to my feet, meaning to leave, but Josephine took my arm.

"I am not going to take no for an answer." Her fingers dug deep, almost painfully so. "This has gone on long enough. Come with me."

I forcefully snatched my arm free, Josephine's nails scraping my skin.

"Just leave me alone!" I spun on my heel and stormed out, before she'd try to collar me again. I could hear her steps right behind. She wasn't going to be turned away this time.

I thrust open the doors to the main hall, almost breaking into a jog. However, as I approached the exit, Iron Bull came out of the shadows. He stepped right in front of me, his eye discerning. He must have been waiting.

"I think our Lady Ambassador said she wanted to speak with you," he said in a low tone. "It's a little rude to just walk out on her."

Maker, not him as well.

"I'm within my right to decline an invitation for something I deem unnecessary," I answered. "So please step aside."

"Sorry Boss, this is one time I'm not going to obey a direct order," Iron Bull said. "It's for your own good."

Something finally snapped inside, and my eyes flared.

"When will you all stop presuming you know what's best for me?!" Hot anger took over, and sparks of rage formed at my fingertips. Iron Bull's eye widened, and he clenched his fists.

"Listen Boss, there's no need for that," he said, taking a defensive stance.

"I quite agree." Dorian's voice broke through, and he too came forward. He held up his palms. "Inquisitor, just calm down. We only want to help…"

"Then you can all help by leaving me alone!" I yelled. I didn't wait for an answer and conjured a brilliant light spell. The three of them gasped, blinded, and I pelted out of the keep. However, as I jumped down the last step, something struck the back of my calf. I cried out, landing on my knees. Grimacing, I turned, spotting the arrow that had hit. It was more than just an arrow, however, as I felt my leg turning numb. I couldn't move it.

"That's quite enough, Inquisitor." Leliana lowered her bow. "I will not let you run from this any longer." She approached, and for a moment I swore she let her mask slip. "Can't you see it's only pushing your pain deeper, making it harder to master? This has to end, now."

I didn't answer, but her words were as piercing as the arrow in my leg. Her tone of voice, as if she knew what I'd been through…

"Inquisitor!" Josephine rushed down the steps, coming to my side. She threw Leliana a scowl. "Was this really necessary?"

Leliana simply shrugged. Josephine rolled her eyes. She beckoned with her hand, and Leliana removed something from her pouch. Josephine took it, before she looked to me again.

"This is the anti-toxin to the numbing agent," she said. "But I will only administer it if you promise to stop hiding in the shadows and speak with me." She rolled the glass between her fingers. "Do we have an agreement?"

I gave a defeated sigh. There was no-where to run now.

"Alright."