"Mamae? Mamae na mara san..."

Saitada watched Brehan cautiously approach the ghostly form of the child. He tried speaking to it in elvish.

"Mamae! Mamae! Mamae!" The figure's face showed stark terror, and it ran off screaming. "Mamae! Mamae, se vara sal!"

"I think I got the gist of that," Lenore said. "Mommy, I'm lost."

"I can't find you," Brehan finished. He shook its head. "Follow?" he asked Saitada.

Saitada nodded. "There has to be another way past that door."

#

"Getting dark soon," Brosca muttered.

"Shale and I will stand the first watch," Sten said.

Brosca nodded at him. He started to turn around. Then he narrowed his eyes. He scanned the camp. After a moment, he tilted his head to one side. "Sten?"

"Yes?"

"Do you see that keeper fellow anywhere?"

Sten glanced down at him, and then looked around the camp. "I do not."

"That concerns me a bit."

"Saitada's orders were to guard the camp."

"I know." Brosca looked up. "Watches of three. You want the assassin or the bard?"

Sten sighed. "The bard."

"I'll get her."

#

Jerath was about to leave the room when something caught his eye. An elaborately carved gemstone lay partially concealed by the dusty remnants of an old tome. He bent, and took a closer look. Inside appeared to be a pool of blood, rippling slowly as the gem vibrated. He reached down to pick it up.

Memories seemed to flood into him. He saw a city rising amidst a forest, delicately spiraling upwards until the tops of both tree and tower disappeared into the very clouds. An army was on the march, dressed in armor of burnished coppery metal. A griffin took wing from the balcony on one of the towers. And then the memory seemed to recoil from him in fear. New images flooded his mind, imprisonment. Loneliness. An emptiness more profound than when he'd woken without the rage. Who are you? What are you? He directed his thoughts at the presence.

There was a sense of bewilderment, and then a trembling sort of hope as it seemed to reach back out towards him. Real. Another sensation, time, rushing through his mind like a dragon. Time in which to go mad, then sane, then mad again, sleeping between. A mage, in glittering silver armor, seen through the fog of a span of time too great for him to fully comprehend. What is this place? What happened here?

Images slowly formed in response to the question. Serenity. Immortal elves in endless sleep, tribute offered to the gods. Violence. War. Memories jumbled together. He thought a few of them might be his own. War with humans?

Humans had come before. They had built these halls. War. Other humans. More war. The elves and humans who had built the halls laying slaughtered in the ruins. How did you end up in this gem?

Elves and humans screaming, attempting to flee. Terror. Terror of something blurred and lost to the ages. Or perhaps terror of something he simply lacked the foundation to comprehend. Fleeing into the life gem, leaving the body behind. Certainty that someone would come. Rescue. A river of time. A sense of himself touching the gem. Now. You were once a mage?

Images of the elf in silver armor. Mage and warrior. Dirth'ena enaslin. Knowledge that led to victory. Arcane warrior. What is an arcane warrior exactly?

Elven mages, channeling spells into strength. Spell in one hand, sword in the other. An offer. Knowledge. Teach. An offer, a plea. Oblivion. How would I give you the release you seek?

Uncertainty. A stone altar. The gem laid upon the altar. The gem vibrating and exploding. A yearning for death, more keen than any blade. Hopeless. Hope. Hopeless. Hope. Please. Yes, I will try to help you.

Desperation. Searching. Trying to remember where to find the altar. Can't remember. So long ago. Walls new, white and clean. A library. Students gathered around a teacher. The teacher standing behind the altar. I see it.

Emotion. Tremulous hope. The teacher an elf in silver armor. The student an elf in splint mail, eyes turning yellow. A question. Yes, give me your memories.

Knowledge. A flood of images, lessons. Sword in hand, sparing, back and forth. Spells. Overwhelming, sweet pain. Falling into bed after a satisfying bout. Promise. Release. Farewell.

He set the artifact on the stone altar.

Joy. Relief. Oblivion.

He shook his head and blinked. A glance over his shoulder showed Lenore still peering at a fresco, while Saitada talked to Brehan about which direction to go. He looked down at the broken gem laying on the altar. Only seconds had passed, and nobody seemed to have noticed.

He glanced back at Saitada. Maybe he wouldn't mention it to her. She was worried enough already. And maybe he should stop hanging around Lenore. She was definitely a bad influence.

#

Lenore watched in rapt fascination as Brehan went through the motions of the ritual. She opened her mouth to ask a question, and felt Cathiel's hand cover it. She sighed.

He took the jug of water over to the altar. She opened her mouth to ask a question, and Alistair's hand caught her chin and firmly closed it again. She sighed.

Brehan knelt, bowing his head in prayer. She opened her mouth to ask a question, and Cathiel shoved a piece of candy into it. She sighed.

He picked up the jug, and took a sip of water. She opened her mouth to ask a question, and Alistair stuck his finger up her nose. She glared, and sighed.

Brehan knelt back at the fountain, and slowly poured the water back into the pool. She opened her mouth to ask a question, and Cathiel stuck a piece leather strap between her teeth. She spat it out and sighed.

The earthen jug shattered. She opened her mouth to ask a question, and Alistair leaned over and licked her cheek. She elbowed him, and then sighed.

Slowly, the huge metal door swung open. Alistair and Cathiel stood up to rejoin the others. Lenore crossed her arms and pouted for a moment before following.

#

"Viran se lan'aan? Ir annala for ros..." The spirit flowed from one side of the dias to the other. "Nae! Ga rahn s'dael! Ga rahn!"

"Mana. Ir halani," Brehan called out to it.

"Ir emah'la shal! Ir emah'la shal!" The shade wailed, then attacked. Brehan defended himself, knocking it away with the maul. It wailed again, and dissolved.

"I'm not sure trying to talk to them is doing any good," Lenore said.

"Says the woman who got into a rhyming contest with a tree," Brehan said.

"What did it say?"

Brehan shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure. I think it asked us how we found this place, that it had been lost for centuries. And then it accused us of..." He sighed as Lenore pushed aside the lid of the sarcophagus to look inside. "Desecrating its grave what are you doing?"

"Looking. Who buries their dead under a tree?"

He closed the lid. "The Dalish."

"Oh."

"Brehan?" Alistair called out. "Come take a look at this."

Brehan gave Lenore a look, and then walked over to where Alistair was standing. A set of elven armor stood on a rack. It was metal, but it looked almost as though it had been... grown. It actually smelled of fresh grass. He caressed it, and it felt warm to his touch. Alistair grinned at him. "Looks made for you."

"The straps are a loss, but, yes," Brehan said. He put the armor into his pack.

#

"Does anyone else smell..." Jerath started to say.

The dragon landed on the platform in front of them. She spread her wings and hissed before sending a swath of fire their way. They dodged in various directions.

"Dragon shit?" Saitada asked. She and Alistair began moving towards the dragon, shields ready, keeping it focused on them as the others started to circle behind. Cathiel moved behind them, firing arrows.

Jerath started to move in, and the dragon leapt away. It opened its mouth to breath fire at the younger elf, and Brehan jumped down from his elevated position, slamming the maul into the top of the dragon's head. There was a rather sickening crack, and the dragon went limp.

The rest of the party stared at Brehan. He blinked, and then smiled. "I like this hammer."

"Did... Brehan just make himself useful in a fight?" Lenore asked.

"You mean as something other than bait?" Alistair asked.

Saitada shook her head. She wasn't sure what the string of elvish meant, but she did recognize the few dwarven words he mixed in. "Brehan, I'm pretty sure even Alistair would find that anatomically impossible."

#

Brosca shook the sleep out of his head when Sten woke him. He elbowed Zevran, and the elf made a rude gesture before getting up. Sten was already shaking Oghren awake. "Any sign of that keeper fellow?" Brosca asked him quietly.

"None," Sten replied.

"Any trouble?"

"Strange as it seems, no."

"Yeah. I know what you mean. This many wounded... why ain't the wolves attacking?" He shook his head. "Maybe the others have them too busy elsewhere."

"They do display a skill for attracting trouble."

Brosca smirked and nodded. "Rest. Be ready to head out after the others at first light.

#

Brehan barely had time to call a warning before two arrows caught him in the chest, and he fell. He saw Alistair move in front of him, and heard more arrows clang off Alistair's shield and breastplate. Saitada and Jerath moved to close as Wynne knelt next to him.

The door on the other side of the corridor broke open, and more of the undead began to pour through. "Saitada," Alistair yelled.

"I got this," Jerath said to her, and she turned back to help Alistair protect the others.

Cathiel focused her bow on the corpses coming down the corridor from a room at the end, aided by the spells of Morrigan. Lenore said a few very unlady-like words as she turned her spells to the bodies starting to rise behind them.

Cathiel was nearly out of arrows by the time the last one fell. She sighed, and began retrieving the ones she could. "Alistair, hold him," Wynne ordered. Alistair immediately knelt and leaned forward, pinning Brehan to the ground. Wynne put her hands on either side of one of the arrows. Her hands glowed with white energy, and she nodded to Lenore. Lenore inhaled, and pulled out the arrow.

Brehan cursed in elvish. The two mages repeated the process with the second arrow. Saitada smiled down at the man. "We have got to get you heavier armor."

"Or Alistair could stand in front of me." Brehan accepted Alistair's hand up.

"Or you could learn to dodge," Cathiel said, poking him with one of her arrows. "And to think, only minutes ago you were looking so heroic."

Saitada gave him a concerned look, and then turned to see the mages. Lenore was offering Wynne a lyrium potion. "Lenore, Wynne, do we need to head back?"

"Perhaps it would be..."

"Might not be an option," Jerath's voice said.

"Why not?" Brehan asked, and then took a step backwards. "By the Dread Wolf..."

"Interesting choice of curses," Jerath said, looking back at him through eyes that had turned yellow. He turned to look at Saitada. "If you need to head back, you'll have to leave me behind."

"Not an option." She sighed. "How long?"

"Morning would by my guess."

Saitada shook her head. "You weren't going to tell us."

"We are already doing everything we can to fix the problem. I didn't want you to worry."

"And now?" she asked, glaring at him.

He shrugged. "Faster than I thought. I think it might be the combat. Too great a chance..." he exhaled.

"Jerath?"

"Now I can fucking smell Brehan's blood," he said, shaking his head. "I'll take point." He walked off.

"Maker..." Alistair said softly.

Wynne's voice trembled. "Saitada, if he changes..."

"Morrigan, that spell you have that holds people in place?"

"I will keep it ready," Morrigan said.

Brehan touched the blood on his armor. "Danyla didn't attack," he said contemplatively.

"Danyla didn't attack Jerath," Saitada said. "He was already infected."

"Fenedhis."

#

Saitada sheathed her sword and started to breathe a sigh of relief, and then more of the werewolves appeared out of nowhere. One raked its claws across Lenore's stomach. The mage cried out. Alistair shoved her out of the way of a second blow, and the werewolf landed on top of him. It bore him to the ground, its claws raking on his armor as it sought purchase.

Jerath grabbed it by the scruff of the neck and literally threw it back against the wall, then closed. Alistair rolled back to his feet, drawing his blade just as another of the wolves came at him. He swung, keeping it at bay as Wynne and Morrigan pulled Lenore out from under the combatants.

Brehan used the maul to trip the werewolf charging Saitada. As it fell, Saitada bashed it across the face with her shield. Brehan turned and brought the hammer down on the wolf's back, crushing it to the floor. Cathiel caught the werewolf Alistair was dueling with an arrow to the eye.

Saitada glanced to the last wolf just in time to see Jerath slam its head against the floor with enough force to shatter it's skull. She blinked. He hadn't drawn his weapons. "Jerath?"

He stood, and shook his head. "I'm alright."

Saitada nodded, and turned to where Wynne was helping Lenore back to her feet. "Lenore?"

"I liked these robes," Lenore muttered. She picked up her staff.

Cathiel shook her head at the mage, and then went to disarm the traps. Saitada kept her blade in hand. She glanced at her companions. "Brehan, take rear guard. Alistair, you and I at the front. You stick with Cathiel, she might need your shield if there are more traps. Lenore, I need you to..."

"If it's all the same, Saitada," Lenore said, looking over at her. "I think I'll be taking point with Jerath now." She stepped around Alistair and walked over to where Jerath was standing. Jerath gave her a respectful nod, then the two of them starting walking.

Alistair watched them, and then turned to look at Cathiel worriedly. Saitada raised an eyebrow at the archer. "I don't feel any different," Cathiel said. "I was injured the same time Jerath was. If I was infected, I'd be showing signs by now, right? They both knew right away."

Saitada nodded. "Wynne, Morrigan, stay between the rest of us." She considered a moment. "Morrigan, if you know anything, have anything to add..."

"I can make suppositions, but I fear 'tis conjecture only." She looked in the direction the other two had gone. She sounded worried. "In a way, it seems a slow process of becoming a rage abomination."

"That is so not comforting," Alistair said.

"'twas not intended to be."

"This Witherfang?"

"If it 'tis the source of the curse, then yes, it could be used to halt the infection." Morrigan considered, and then reluctantly continued. "However, it may not have an effect on those that have already completed the transformation."

"So we are on a deadline. Let's move."

#

The werewolves moved towards them. Jerath drew his weapons, sword in one hand, axe in the other. Lenore readied her staff. The beasts sniffed, then started move around them. Beside her, Lenore heard Jerath actually snarl, as he stepped to block their path. The beast snarled back.

Her blood burned. Their companions were coming up the corridor. She saw the heads of the werewolves start to come up. Lenore drew on her magic and felt her blood burn hotter. Pain seared her mind. She howled, and sent the spell forth. The resulting inferno swirled down the corridor, catching the approaching wolves in a whirlwind of flame. She held the spell, closing her eyes as the pain in her blood ebbed and the fire grew. She could smell the burning hair. And then Jerath slammed her against the wall. "Pull it back," his voice was at her ear. "Pull it back. Lenore, you will bring the whole place down. Pull it back."

She focused on his voice, and let the spell die. The fire returned to her blood, and she opened her eyes again. A few places on the corridor walls still glowed red from residual heat. Bones, cracked and blackened from the heat, lay strewn around. Ash trickled through the air.

Her eyes met his. "That felt better than it should have."

"It does."

She took a breath. Then another. "I can't use fire. Too risky. Feels too..." Her eyes widened as she started to look back towards the others. Maker, she really could smell the blood. She forced herself to look ahead, and went through a mental exercise to calm herself. "Okay. I think I'm okay."

He let her go. "You sure."

"I'm sure." She tilted her head at him. His eyes were all the way yellow. "How are you controlling the urge not to kill all our friends?"

He smiled. "Practice."

Despite the pain she was in, she laughed.

#

Cathiel narrowed her eyes. She wasn't entirely sure how many of the werewolves had been reduced to ash and char. Lenore and Jerath were almost to the other end of the corridor. She glanced at Saitada, and saw the dwarven woman frowning at the corpses. Her thoughts went all the way back to Lothering, to when she'd challenged Saitada for the right to lead their group. At this moment, she was unbelievably grateful that the other woman had won that conflict.

Lenore was easily one of the most powerful mages Cathiel had ever heard of, let alone seen. With a blade in his hand, Jerath was the closest thing she knew to an unstoppable force. If either actually lost control, turned on them... She glanced back at Saitada again, and saw in their leader's eyes that she was doing the math. How long did they dare wait? The only chance they had would be if they acted when their infected friends were still capable of cooperating in their own executions.

Wynne's face was bleak. Morrigan's knuckles were white on her staff, though her face remained composed. Neither Alistair nor Brehan had sheathed their weapons since they'd seen Jerath beat a werewolf to death with his bare hands. She glanced down at her nocked arrow, ready to draw and loose with barely a thought.

Maker. She'd seen Jerath deliver mercy kills. Seen Lenore offer her little vials. That's what it would be, right? Mercy.

#

"Time to get moving," Brosca said as he woke Sten.

Sten picked up his breastplate and began buckling the straps around himself. "The night was peaceful, then?"

"Kinda creepy, really." Brosca shook his head. "You know, I think I sorta hate the woods."

#

Saitada stepped into the next room. Jerath and Lenore stood between them and the werewolves. A giant among the wolves, nearly eight feet in height stood on a dais. The other wolves ranged behind him, but he held up a hand to forestall them. "Stop! Brothers and sisters, be at ease! We do not wish any more of our people hurt. I ask you this now, outsider: are you willing to parley?"

"Like you parleyed with the Dalish?" Fury filled Brehan's voice.

"Hrrr, that was different." The giant gray werewolf lowered his head, and held out his hands. "The Lady believes that the Dalish have not told you everything, so she has asked that you be brought to her. She means you no harm, provided your willingness to parley in peace is an honest one."

"Forget it. I'm not about to trust any of you," Saitada said. Not while the lives of Jerath and Lenore were at stake.

"Wait!" Wynne said. "Surely we can listen to what they have to say?"

"And what would be the point, you old fool?" Morrigan practically spat the words. "We have already slaughtered our way through them, unless you've forgotten."

"Do we truly lose so much just by listening to their words? Must we slaughter our way past everything?"

Saitada looked at the two standing between them and the other werewolves. Other werewolves... she couldn't think of it that way. "Wynne... we can't risk it."

The gray wolf's voice actually sounded sorrowful. "Then it seems we are..."

"We'll parley." Lenore straightened. She glanced at Jerath, and he nodded and sheathed his weapons. "We'll parley. Everyone calm down."

The werewolf nodded slowly. "Follow me. But I warn you, if you break your promise and harm her, I will come back from the Fade itself to see you pay."

Saitada glanced at the others. Their faces were as confused as hers. She narrowed her eyes. Then she sheathed her sword.

#

The woman was clearly a spirit. Her skin was tinged green, and vines grew up her naked body, forming into hands as they reached the ends of her arms. Her hair flowed down her shoulders like spilled ink. And Lenore found a part of herself wanting to crawl into the Lady's lap like a small child.

She glanced at Jerath, and he nodded. He felt it too. She couldn't bring herself to turn and look at their companions. All that was left was to hope that their companions managed to resolve the situation peacefully. Because... oh sweet Maker, because if they tried to hurt the Lady, Lenore wasn't entirely sure she'd be able to let them.

"I bid you welcome, mortal. I am the Lady of the Forest." The Lady's voice was hauntingly beautiful as it echoed through the chamber, sweet as the mother Lenore could barely remember.

"Really?" The disrespect in Brehan's voice made her want to growl. "You seem more like the Lady of the Ruin to me."

"You will not speak to the Lady in this manner!" Swiftrunner started to surge forward.

"Hush, Swiftrunner. Your urge for battle has seen only the death of the very ones you have been trying to save. Is that what you want?"

The brown werewolf knelt before her, a gesture of respect and adoration. "No, my lady. Anything but that."

"Then the time has come to speak with this outsider, to set our rage aside. I apologize on Swiftrunner's behalf. He struggles with his nature."

"As do we all, Lady," Saitada said.

"Truer words were never spoken. But few could claim the same as these creatures: that their very nature is a curse forced upon them. No doubt you have questions, mortal. There are things that Zathrian has not told you." The lady smiled, descending a few paces down the steps.

"Is that so?" Brehan's voice was skeptical. She really could smell his blood. "Such as?"

"It was Zathrian who created the curse that these creatures suffer, the same curse that Zathrian's own people now suffer."

#

Saitada watched the strange woman gently stroke Jerath's hair. For once, the elf didn't pull back or glare at the touch. That alone disturbed her more than the creature's appearance. Lenore was watching with a rapturous expression. Stone.

The woman continued speaking. "Centuries ago, when the Dalish first came to this land, a tribe of humans lived close this forest. They sought to drive the Dalish away. Zathrian was a young man then." Saitada shot Brehan a look. He met her eyes and shook his head, clearly confused. "He had a son and daughter he loved greatly, and while out hunting the human tribe captured them both."

"Hrrr..." Swiftrunner's voice sounded pained and reluctant. "The humans... tortured the boy, killed him. The girl they raped and left for dead. The Dalish found her, but she learned later she was... with child. She... killed herself."

"So Zathrian cursed them, I take it?" Cathiel asked. Her fingers kept twitching towards her bow.

Swiftrunner looked at her, then nodded slowly. "Zathrian came to this ruin and summoned a terrible spirit, binding it to the body of a great wolf. So Witherfang came to be." He stood. "Witherfang hunted the humans of the tribe. Many were killed, but others were cursed by his blood, becoming twisted and savage creatures..."

"Twisted and savage just as Witherfang himself is," the woman said. "They were driven into the forest. When the human tribe finally left for good, their cursed brethren remained, pitiful and mindless animals."

Swiftrunner gazed at her with enraptured eyes. "Until I found you, my lady. You gave me peace."

She touched his face, a loving, motherly gesture. "I showed Swiftrunner that there was another side to his bestial nature. I soothed his rage, and his humanity emerged. And he brought others to me."

Brehan shook his head. "Why did you ambush the Dalish? For revenge?"

A soft sigh escaped the woman. "In part." A note of anger entered her voice. "We seek to end the curse. The crimes committed against Zathrian's children were grave, but they were committed centuries ago by those who are long dead." She shook her head. "Word was sent to Zathrian every time the landships passed this way, asking him to come, but he has always ignored us. We will no longer be denied."

The low growl from Swiftrunner was filled with frustration. "We spread the curse to his people. So he must end the curse to save them."

"Please, mortal..." The woman held out a beseeching hand. "You must go to him. Bring him here. If he sees these creatures, hears their plight... surely he will agree to end the curse."

Saitada sighed. "Why would Zathrian agree to come here alone?"

"If Zathrian comes, I shall summon Witherfang. I possess that power. I also have the power to ensure Witherfang is never found. Tell Zathrian this. If he does not come, if he does not break the curse, he will never find Witherfang, and he will never cure his people."

Saitada narrowed her eyes. "And if I don't do as you bid, my people suffer the same fate." She looked from Lenore to Jerath.

"They may remain here. I can ease their suffering, sooth their pain. They will not be harmed." The woman smiled at Lenore. "They will not be harmed by me or mine even if you do refuse this task."

"Saitada?" Lenore said softly.

"Yes Lenore?"

"She's Witherfang."

"So if we..."

"I won't let you. Neither will Jerath." The mage blinked tears out of her eyes. "Saitada, you know what the right thing to do is."

Saitada nodded. She did. "Very well. I will go to Zathrian and tell him this."

#

Cathiel put a hand to her bow when she saw the keeper standing at the entrance to the ruins. Either he'd followed them, or he'd known exactly where to find them all along. She glanced at Saitada, and noted the dwarven woman looked absolutely furious. Clearly, their leader had come to the same conclusion.

"Ah. And here you are already," Zathrian said.

"Why am I not surprised to see you here?" Saitada asked, walking towards him.

Zathrian narrowed his eyes. "Did you? Aren't you the intuitive one."

"How did you get here?" Brehan asked. "Wouldn't the forest keep you out?"

"I am a keeper, with access to the magic of the ancients. I was never barred from this place."

Morrigan chuckled. "He wishes to see if we did his work for him. Is that not why you are here now, sorcerer?"

"Do not call me that, witch." Despite having called Morrigan that dozens of times, Cathiel found herself angry on the other woman's behalf. Zathrian glared. "I am keeper of this clan, and have done what I must. Did you acquire the heart?"

"We need to talk, Hahren," Brehan said.

"So you wish to play games, da'len?" Zathrian shook his head. "I can sense you do not have it. Why are you leaving the ruin?"

"To fetch you, and bring you back to the Lady of the Forest," Saitada said.

"Oh? Is that what the spirit calls herself now?"

"You knew?" Brehan's eyes widened. "You knew?" He started to step forward, and Alistair grabbed his shoulder. "Ma banal las halamshir var vhen." He shook his head. "Is'ma tel'him."

"Ir abelas, ma suledin..."

"Mana. Hahren, ma ghilana elvhen din'an. Halam sahlin."

"Da'len..."

"Mana. Ma halam. Ma ghilan'him banal'vhen. Ar'din nuvenin na'din. Var halani, sela ar tu na'lin emma mi."

"Ma emma harel, da'len. Dirthara-ma."

"Fen'harel tu ven, era'lin."

"Not that watching Brehan turn you into a greasy smear wouldn't be entertaining," Saitada said. "But the lady is waiting."

"And what does she want with me, if I might inquire?"

"What do you think she wants?" Brehan practically spat.

Zathrian shrugged, and eyed Brehan with disgust. "To survive, I suspect. That is the common nature amongst all such creatures, the will do survive." He shook his head. "You do understand that..."

"That she is Witherfang?" Brehan narrowed his eyes. "Tel garas solasan, harrellan."

"She is the powerful spirit of this ancient forest that I summoned long ago and bound into the body of the wolf." Zathrian shook his head. "Her nature is that of the forest itself. Beautiful and terrible, serene and savage, maiden and beast. She is the Lady and Witherfang both, two sides of a single being. The curse came first from her. Those she afflicted with it mirrored her own nature, becoming savage beast as well as human."

"The curse came first from you," Brehan said.

Zathrian clenched his fists and actually took a step towards Brehan. "They attacked my clan and they were the same savages that they have ever been. They deserve to be wiped out and not defended." He inhaled, and his face softened. "Come, da'len. I can force the spirit into Witherfang's form. He may then be slain and the heart taken. Help me save our people."

Brehan's smile was cold. "The werewolves have regained their minds."

"Even so, they are still the same worthless creatures that their ancestors were. They deserve nothing more than the misery they possess." Zathrian shook his head. "This is not your battle, Grey Warden. Let us just take the heart and be done with it."

"I am making this my fight." Brehan said. Cathiel found herself filled with a new respect for the man. If she understood Dalish culture at all, he'd just more or less threatened a grand cleric.

"If you do not help me get the heart, then my hunters are not cured and you will get no assistance against the darkspawn."

"Do you still have so much hatred after all this time?"

"You were not there. You did not see what... what they did to my son. To my daughter. And so many others." He shook his head. "You are Dalish. You know how we must struggle to be safe, how we must fight for justice. I could not let their crimes go unanswered!"

"So your answer is to let them suffer forever?"

"Tell me, if you held your own daughter's lifeless body in your arms would you not also have sworn an eternity of pain on those who did such to her?"

"Yes. But who is being punished now, Hahren?"

Zathrian's face was furious. "Very well. You wish me go and talk? I will do so. But what if it is only more revenge they wish? Will you safeguard me from harm?"

"I will protect you from them."

"Ma serannas," Zathrian said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.