They left before the sun even crested the horizon. Kya rode next to Loghain, neither of them speaking. She tried on a few occasions to get him to speak, first trying serious but bland subjects like the training plans for the new recruits at Amaranthine, or tactical deployments should the darkspawn attack. Then she tried humor and even subtle innuendo. Nothing worked. It was like trying to get blood from a stone.

They rode hard instead of speaking, quickly putting distance between themselves and the realizations and horrors of Ostagar. Kya hoped they might make it to Lothering and a hot meal and a warm bath before the horses tired, but it wasn't to be. Eventually, her mare refused to put any more miles under her hooves at a reasonable speed, and no amount of prodding got her anywhere. It wasn't all that different from her earlier attempts to get Loghain to talk.

It was not her day, it seemed.

They came across a small farmhold, looking very run down and nearly abandoned, but smoke billowed from the chimney and the tantalizing scent of fresh bread and cooked apples wafted out mixed with the scent of the wood. Kya's stomach growled irritably. Giving Loghain a pointed look, she turned her horse into the yard and dismounted. She looked up at him, still in the saddle, staring at her like she had gone mad.

"Come on,' she said finally, breaking the hours long silence. "Farmholds like this are used to weary travelers. Besides, since you insisted we leave real armor and supplies behind with the others at Ostagar, I would prefer not to sleep out in the open."

He looked suitably annoyed but complied, swinging down from the saddle. A part of Kya wished he'd argue with her. At least they'd be talking. But whatever passed between Loghain and Alistair had done something to him. After she'd found him cradling Maric's sword, he'd said hardly more than two words in a row. She didn't know what happened, but she could recognize pain when she saw it.

Trying to ignore the giant lump in her throat, Kya reached up to knock on the door of the ramshackle hut, but the door opened just as her hand moved. She barely managed to not knock directly on the face of the old woman looking up at her. Kya wasn't tall, by any means, but this woman was stooped and round in the manner of the very old, her face resembling a wrinkled winter apple. But she smiled broadly, exposing a mouth nearly bereft of teeth. It was a warm smile, nonetheless.

"Come in, come in," the old woman said, gesturing Kya and Loghain inside. "You look half starved and exhausted the both of you. Old Mother Halmon will fix you right up."

Kya looked at Loghain over her shoulder, smiling faintly. Mother Halmon seemed like something out of an old story. But Kya couldn't decide if she was going to be a sweet godmother or a wicked witch. Loghain gave her a long suffering look, but nodded and followed her inside.

Mother Halmon clicked her tongue at them, putting her hands on her ample hips. "Young man," she said to Loghain, taking his arm. "Let me find you somewhere to rest while I attend to your beautiful companion, yes?"

Loghain snorted. "It's been some time since I've been called a young man."

"Yes, yes," Mother Halmon clucked. "But next to my old bones, you're just barely a man yet." Before he could protest, she dragged him off down the hall.

Kya shook her head, turning to warm her hands over the fire that crackled in the hearth. Bunches of dried herbs hung on the stone mantle, their faint scent filling the air. It was almost too good to be true. But at this point, Kya was so weary in her body and her heart, and if Mother Halmon was some demon witch, well, that was just fine. Hopefully, she'd feed her before she sacrificed them both in some bloody ritual.

Maker's Breath. Loghain's cynicism and paranoia were having more effect on her than she realized.

Mother Halmon waddled back toward Kya, looking her up and down. She seemed to be appraising her for market, or for match-making. Kya wasn't sure which was more unnerving.

"My, my," Mother Halmon said. "You are tense, dearie. A nice hot bath and a meal will do you wonders. I've set your man to rest, so let me help you get the dust out of you hair." She toddled down the hall again, waving to Kya to follow.

"I sincerely doubt he belongs to anyone, least of all me," Kya said to Mother Halmon's back. She made it a point to not use his name. Loghain might be a well-known by name, but in the stories he was ten feet tall and more handsome than any man ever to live, except for Maric of course. So the chances of an old farmer's widow recognizing him where slim. And Kya was in no mood for questions or accusations.

Mother Halmon laughed at Kya's words. "He belongs to you, tis clear as air," she replied. "Although he's not entirely sure he deserves it. Pood lad." Kya considered arguing the point, but she could recognize a lost battle when she saw one. She'd seen rather more than her share in the last year, at that.

So instead, she let Mother Halmon do with her as she wished. She stripped off Kya's robes, untwisted her hair and unceremoniously pushed her into a tub of steaming water. How exactly the water had gotten there, and been heated since they'd only arrived moments before Kya had no idea. But she was too tired to care. And once she sunk down into the fragrant water, it mattered even less. Mother Halmon chirped about the weather and about the flowers coming up as she untangled the snarls in Kya's hair, soaping her as if she was a child and not a grown woman. Kya discovered she didn't mind at all.

Once she'd finished, Mother Halmon stepped back and cocked her head at Kya as if to assess her work. Apparently satisfied by what she saw, she nodded twice and turned to go, scooping up Kya's robes under her arm as she went.

"There's linens on the table and clothes in the bureau," she said as she closed the door, leaving Kya soaking.

Kya closed her eyes and rested her head against the wooden rim of the tub. A part of her, a rather large part, wanted to just stay in the water until her fingers pruned and the water cooled. Instead, she shook her head and stood, letting the water sluice down her body. She stepped out the tub and wrapped the linens around herself, shivering. Whether it was from the cold or the bitter pit in her stomach, she wasn't sure.

She couldn't stop thinking about the silence of the day. Not that she wasn't used to Loghain lapsing into sullen silence from time to time. He was who he was, and it was part of his charm; she thought so anyway. But this was different. There was something about seeing that dragonbone sword in its scabbard, swinging from Loghain's saddle that gave Kya an ache of finality.

What was it they said? When you are about to die, your life flashes before your eyes? Loghain's life seemed to be all wrapped up in leather and crafted in the finest dwarven fashion. If that sword was anything other than a bitter reminder of regret, Kya would become a Chantry sister.

She stared out the tiny window. There was what looked like a garden back there, but it was barren and blackened. It occurred to her that all of this land had been in the Blighted area. How exactly one old woman had survived the darkspawn on her own was beyond her. Mother Halmon didn't seem like the kind of woman that would have fled her home, not even if the army had tried to move her bodily. If she thought about it too much . . . there was something very wrong about all of this.

But then her stomach protested again, loudly. Shaking the thoughts out of her head, she scavenged a dress from the bureau. It was a worn thing, more spots rubbed bare than were whole. But it was a lovely shade of blue, and soft as a petal. Kya slipped it over her head, ignoring how it seemed to fit perfectly. Leaving her hair loose around her shoulders, she shuffled bare footed back towards the warmth of the fire.

Mother Halmon already had a bowl of stew in her hand by the time Kya ambled down the hall. She hoped Loghain would be there, but he was conspicuously absent. Kya tried to hide her disappointment as she took the bowl and settled into one of the well worn chairs by the fire, tucking her legs up underneath her. She took a bite, and decided it was the best thing she'd ever tasted, yet at the same time it was like ash in her mouth.

"Your lad is a grumpy one, isn't he?" Mother Halmon commented. "I tried to feed him, but he was having none of it. Did manage to send him to the tub, although he tried to fight that as well. Said something about watching me, he did."

Kya shook her head. "Yes, he is at that," she replied, taking another bite. "Don't take it personally."

The old woman laughed. "I'm too old to take anything personal-like dearie. I learned better a long time ago."

Kya leaned back in the chair, setting the bowl aside, still half full. Her stomach was too full of apprehension to make room for much food. Mother Halmon frowned at her, but said nothing. Eventually she made her way to the other chair, sitting down slowly. She looked at Kya pointedly, staring nearly. She was silent, but Kya could almost see the questions forming behind the old woman's milky grey eyes.

"You're her, aren't you?" Mother Halmon asked finally. Kya's heart dropped into her feet.

"Her who?" she replied, trying to feign ignorance.

"Don't be coy with me young lady," Mother Halmon scolded. "You know exactly what I mean. You are her, The Grey Warden. The Hero of Ferelden."

Kya cringed. "Denial isn't going to work here, is it?"

"Not with me. I've lived too long not to spot a lie," Mother Halmon continued. "And if you are the Warden, that makes your bitter lad Loghain Mac Tir." She gave Kya a toothless grin. "Which explains a lot."

"And what's that exactly, witch?" Loghain's deep voice said from the shadows. Kya snapped her head around. He was leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. His hair was damp and unbraided, hanging in loose locks around his face. Not surprisingly, he was scowling.

"I suppose it is no surprise then, Loghain," Mother Halmon said, her voice losing some of it's ancient rasp. "That I know of the prophecy you were told as a young man then, is it?"

Loghain snorted. "Hardly."

"So then," she continued. "Would you like some advice?"

"From a witch?" he snapped. "Not likely."

"Ah, but you travel with one, not so different from I," Mother Halmon replied. She steepled her fingers under her chin. "Do you know why it is only women who are true witches? Why a male mage cannot hear the portents?"

"I expect you are going to enlighten me whether I care to hear this or not," Loghain said. His frown deepened, the line between his brows cast in shadow.

Kya watched them, shocked by how unsurprised she was by it all. Loghain told her, a bit, of his encounter with the witch in the Korcari wilds. That witch had used fear and blatant expressions of power to frighten them into listening. This woman used Flemeth's tactics.

"Prophecy comes from the fade dear boy," Mother Halmon said. "And only women can listen well enough to hear it. Men . . . men are too caught up in what happens outside themselves to ever truly hear the inner voice of the fade. And they do not look closely enough inside to understand why they do what they do."

"Is that your wisdom old woman?" Loghain spat. "Any traveling charlatan could do as well."

"Perhaps," she said. "Or perhaps not. But wise or not, I do know this. Your entire life has been shaped by your destiny to betray Maric. Even perhaps that love that crushed your spirit, perhaps that was only another part of it. Did you truly love Rowan or was her flesh just another way to betray him?"

Loghain didn't reply. His eyes narrowed.

"No matter what the truth of that is, now your part in destiny is done Loghain Mac Tir," she said. Her voice took on an eerie quality. "What happens now, is entirely up to you. Take care that you do not make the same mistakes again, with the little time you have left. Make sure that if you love it is not out of spite and pride. You know of what I speak, do you not?"

Kya opened her mouth to speak, but Mother Halmon silenced her with a blistering look and a wave of her hand.

"Let me finish lass," she said. "Besides, I have no intention of answering the question on your tongue. Am I Flemeth? Am I something else? Who can say?" She chuckled. "And no, I have nothing for you either dearie. What is in your future has yet to be written. You will have to learn as you go." She turned her eyes back to Loghain and stood slowly, bracing herself on the arms of the chair like the old woman she appeared to be.

"And you," she said, taking a few steps forward and looking back over her shoulder at Kya. "Did you know that your hero was nearly not one? Did he tell you that he nearly ran away from his own destiny and from his King?"

Kya frowned at her, flicking her eyes back to Loghain. He was staring at Mother Halmon and although it seemed he knew she was looking, he refused to meet her eyes.

"His lady love, Rowan, she was the dutiful sort. She rejected him, and broke his heart," Mother Halmon explained. "Though he would never admit it, he was leaving because of her. In the dead of night, he tried to slink away. If Maric had not found him, he would have been gone. And perhaps Ferelden would not be free. It is hard to say." She took a few more steps the pushed a bony finger into Loghain's breastbone, right above his folded arms.

"But Maric is gone now, for good or ill," she continued. "So now that his sword and your guilt are strapped together on your belt, what will make you keep yourself this time? Or will you do as your nature compels you and disappear where duty and dishonor cannot find you?"

Loghain took a stumbling step back as if the old woman had slapped him. Kya expected a harsh, sarcastic reply, but Loghain was silent as stone. His arms hung limp at his sides.

"Ah, hit a nerve did I?" Mother Halmon purred. She turned back to look at Kya, just shaking her head. "Either way, it will be a fate of your own making. For you both. Tonight however, is for sleep. The fade awaits. And when you wake . . . Maker only knows where your path will lead you. It is enough for me to know that you will not cross mine again."

Kya tried to stand, but found she was riveted in place. Just like in the Circle tower, when the Sloth demon trapped her in the fade, she felt herself unable to resist the urge to sleep. Her eyes slid closed just as she saw Loghain slump to the floor.


Kya woke under the open sky. The farmhold, the house, Mother Halmon; they were all gone as insubstantial as smoke. Kya raised her head, feeling the weight of her hair braided against her back. She was in her own robes again, but they were pristine and clean. She tugged at the length of her braid. The thick hair was still damp inside. Not a dream then, but what?

Kya stood slowly, brushing imaginary wrinkles from her robes. She looked around. Her horse was grazing peacefully, nipping at tiny shoots of new grass peeking up through blackened earth. A sudden, frantic realization gripped Kya's chest in an iron fist. She turned around, looking in each direction and was met with only silence.

Loghain was gone.

Kya's heart thudded in her chest, her mind replaying Mother Halmon's words.

Make sure that if you love it is not out of spite and pride. So now that his sword and your guilt are strapped together on your belt, what will make you keep yourself this time? Or will you do as your nature compels you and disappear where duty and dishonor cannot find you?

It took all the self control Kya had not to scream. Instead, she padded over to her horse, patting it softly on her flank. The mare looked up at her with sad brown eyes, then went back to her grazing. Kya looked inside her saddle bags and found that they were well stocked, although they had been nearly empty when they'd fled Ostagar. On the top of the supplies, there was a single red apple, despite being the completely wrong time of year for them.

Kya pulled it out, and rolled it back and forth across her palms. The surface was unnaturally glossy and she could see the faint reflection of her pale face in the red luster. It was like looking at herself through a pane of bloody glass. Kya looked up again, her eyes scanning the horizon in every direction. But still, there was nothing.

Sighing, she took a bite of the apple. It was perfectly ripe and sweet, and a little droplet of juice ran down her chin. She wiped it away with her sleeve.

She wished desperately that there was something left to do here. Something that would logically keep her from moving or leaving. Supplies to gather, or a camp to strike, anything that might give her a reason to stay a while. But there was none. No more than there was any reason for Loghain to have gone off ahead, and yet still intend to return.

Despite all his protestation, all his pleading for her to be his, he'd disappeared into the night like some sort of spirit in a nightmare. He'd asked her if she was his. Kya hadn't lied to him before, and she hadn't lied then.

She was his. Completely. And now he was gone.

The apple dropped out of her hand, rolling away through the dust. If only she could be angry. Anger she understood. When Jowan lied to her, betrayed her trust and escaped the tower, her anger had kept her from falling apart when she traveled to Ostagar with Duncan. When Alistair turned his back on her, it was her rage that kept her moving.

There was no anger to spur her on now. Only a sharp, cold pain behind her ribs. She took a deep breath and took the mare's reins, pulling her head up from browsing. The horse looked mildly irritated at her, but complied. Kya put her foot in the stirrup, swinging herself up into the saddle.

"Your foot here. Take the pommel in your hand, and jump." Loghain's remembered voice echoed in Kya's head. It seemed like that happened in another life.

Kya sat up straight in the saddle and swallowed before nudging the mare forward with her heels. She might not be able to muster up anger, but Maker damn her, she sure as the Black City was not going to cry.