Eleanor's head started to clear on the day they began to travel underground. She didn't even consider questioning the why or how of it. She was just relieved to regain some of her awareness.

Even still dulled, she knew well enough to still act as if she were being affected by the slowness of her senses. The first time she noticed it, she awoke on her pallet before anyone else had. She lay very still until she heard the witch stir and wake, until she was poked and told to get up. That day she could hold her head up a bit higher and focus her eyes on her surroundings. Mostly she noticed the witch carrying her bow—Mother's bow!—over her shoulder.

That night she ate and drank as normal. It was inescapable; she was being watched so closely. But instead of falling instantly into a deep sleep, she lay down and her mind whirled. She thought carefully about what she remembered from the journey across the ice, about what had happened at the camp outside Ostagar, and about what she should do now. She had to do something. Eleanor had no idea what this Kellan woman wanted with her or her brother, but she had to save him.

The witch clearly commanded powerful magic. She had trapped Duncan in the Fade alone. Or maybe that had been a trick in order to get Eleanor to come with her? To what end? She turned the questions over and over in her mind until at last she fell asleep.

That night she did dream, but upon waking she could not remember the details. It had been a dream about Duncan—a rather bedraggled and desperate Duncan who had been shouting something at her through a shimmering barrier. It had looked like a regular Fade barrier which normally parted easily to them, but this one was as thick as stone. He had pounded his fists on it and shouted, then pointing to his mouth and forming words carefully for her to read. What had he said…?

The next day of travel was a long one. Kellan sped their pace through the tunnels. An eager light came into her golden eyes as she looked around, touching the stone walls of the tunnel. They marched downward, through open chambers, narrow passages, and sharply angled channels. The air grew increasingly warm.

Eleanor was walking directly behind Kellan when she stopped abruptly at the entrance to a large and unlit cavern. She sensed the space opening up in front of them, so different from the close dank feeling of the rock tunnels pressing in from all sides. A warm breeze pushed the sweaty curls back from her face.

"This is it," Kellan breathed as she stepped forward. She raised her arms and summoned a ball of green light that floated above her.

Eleanor tensed. The witch's attention was totally absorbed in her spell and the cave. She could sense the strange Wilder folk that had served as escort behind her, waiting for her to step farther into the cave so they could come out from the narrow passageway.

The black-haired witch took another step forward, away from Eleanor and the cavern entrance.

"This is the only change I might get," Eleanor thought. The past days seemed so dreamlike, the danger intangible, but in this moment everything took on the sharp, crisp lines of reality.

She spun and sank down into a low crouch, moving quickly backward toward the dark shape behind her. She heard a quick intake of breath from the man but before he could react further she snatched the short sword from his belt and ran him through. The sword came back out cleanly, thank the Maker, and did not snag on his rough hide armor or cloak.

The man behind gave a shout and rushed forward empty-handed, but he tripped on the slumped body and went sprawling into Eleanor. She had to back-pedal wildly out of the passage to keep her feet beneath her.

"Four of them," she muttered, watching with her sword raised as they came slowly into the open space.

The witch light was brighter now and for the first time Eleanor was able to see these… things… clearly as their faces were illuminated. They were not Chasind as she had originally thought, but horrible hybrid creatures somewhere between men and monsters. Their bodies were hidden in shaggy fur cloaks. The arms that protruded and hands that gripped their weapons were gnarled and clawed. The one that had pushed her had a snout and long yellow teeth. It snarled as it drew a hammer from its belt.

Eleanor swallowed hard, and then forced her mind to slow from the reeling shock. She narrowed her eyes. Remember—the lessons returned to her. She could almost smell the hay in the practice yard as she recalled the weapons master and her long hours of practice. Focus.

She let out a long breath and squeezed the pommel of the short sword tighter. The creature closest to her tensed as if to spring. She was ready.

A bowstring twanged and suddenly the hammer-wielding monster fell, a grey feathered arrow protruding from its back. Before she could react, another arrow streaked out of the darkness and buried itself in the neck of a second creature that was turning back toward the passage. Two figures emerged into the light—the first one was dressed in a long grey tunic and fitting another arrow to his large bow, and the second—

"Father!" Eleanor gasped.

Alistair charged into the cavern, slamming the nearest creature back with his shield. It fell backward and he stabbed it quickly before the second monster reached him. The bowman's arrow hit the remaining fur-cloaked creature high in the shoulder, spinning it halfway round. It grunted and snarled, but Alistair finished it before it could turn back and attack. All four of the twisted men were defeated before Eleanor could catch her breath.

"Eleanor, oh Maker. Are you hurt?" Alistair sheathed his sword and ran forward, gathering her in his arms.

Eleanor's cheek was pressed against the cool metal of the armor covering his chest. For a moment she could hardly believe any of this was happening. Tears filled her eyes. Then her arms went around her father's neck and she clung to him.

"How…?"

"We followed. From Ostagar. What…?"

"Why have you…?"

All at once they spoke. And then, over top all their voices:

"Well. Isn't this a lovely family reunion?" A clear voice rang out, cold and high.

Alistair pushed Eleanor away from him and his hand went to his sword hilt. They had not seen the woman when they entered the large cavern, and Eleanor had completely forgotten her. Now she strolled toward them. Her thin arms were folded over her breasts and the glowing light she had summoned bobbed over her head.

"I demand to know who you are and why you've taken my daughter." Alistair's voice was commanding.

"Oh yes. I suppose it is time for the tell-all," Kellan replied. She laughed without humor. "What a fitting audience for it too. I suppose it is time you heard everything." She paused, her yellow eyes staring straight into Alistair's. "Father."

Alistair jerked in surprise to the last word, spoken so flatly and matter-of-factly. He pulled his sword halfway from it's sheathe. The witch made a sharp movement of her hand, and all three of them were surrounded by a faintly shimmering paralysis barrier.

Kellan ignored Lauthrin, her eyes moving quickly over the faces of Alistair and Eleanor. The former glared at her with narrowed eyes, but the latter only looked confused and frightened. Kellan laughed again.

"What, did you not tell your children about your tryst with my mother? About their sister?" Her mouth twisted as she spoke.

"I never, that is… We didn't…" he stumbled over the words. "She left—before the battle. I never knew what became of her. I didn't know about you."

Kellan smirked. "Oh, I know about all that. I found out when I read her grimoires. Fascinating stuff really." She inspected her fingernails and buffed them on the sleeve of her robe. "But allow me to elaborate for her sake." She jerked her chin at Eleanor.

"No, let me," Alistair said. He strained to turn his head and could not, but was facing Eleanor enough to catch her gaze. "It was the only way to defeat the archdemon without one of us dying. Your mother and I were the only two Grey Wardens left in Ferelden. Morrigan told us that if… if I conceived a child with her before the battle, the archdemon's soul would enter the child instead of your mother or I. It would have killed us."

"And the archdemon's soul did. And I am that child," Kellan finished. Something blazed in her eyes but Eleanor could not tell what it was. Triumph? Pity?

"A child changed before its birth, absorbing the soul of an Old God. Who could have know what would happen?" Kellan tapped her chin in mock-solemnity and paced in front of them. "Flemeth knew. And Mother knew."

"Where is Morrigan?" Alistair asked. "Where have you been living?"

"I slew Mother years ago to gain her secrets, as you did Flemeth for her before that." She continued to pace.

"What does this have to do with me and Duncan?" Eleanor's voice was shaking.

Kellan stopped and turned slowly toward her. "You two are something different, as I am different, but we three are not the same." A smile curled her red lips.

"I don't understand. What is this about?"

"Your parents defeated the archdemon. Though its soul did not pass into them, it passed through them in its search for the brightest beacon. It changed them as surely as the taint has changed them. And that has changed you." She stood directly in front of Eleanor, staring into her face.

"I have the soul of an Old God in human form, not in the form of a dragon tainted by the darkspawn. I have cognizance that the archdemon never possessed." Her voice tolled like a bell. "I am Urthemiel, worshipped by the Tevinter in ages past. I have come here to reclaim my true form and return to the Imperium to rule again!"

With these last words, she flung her arms upward, sending the glowing ball of light high into the air. It expanded rapidly to illuminate the entire cavern. Eleanor gasped as she saw the intricate carvings covering every surface of the walls and ceiling and the huge bones that lay in careful mounds throughout the room.

"This is a dragon graveyard, deep beneath the frozen lands south of Ferelden. I learned about it from Chasind shaman years ago. It is not Tevinter in origin but it is suited to my purpose. There was only one thing I was missing to complete the ritual and cast the spell: your blood."

Kellan reached behind her and drew out a long curved knife from her belt. She brought her arm up and drove it hard into Eleanor's chest just above the top of her armor. She pulled the knife out and pressed her hand tight against the wound. Her fingers and sleeve were quickly drenched in the gout of blood.

"No!" Lauthrin and Alistair both shouted, though Alistair's voice was by far the loudest and most anguished.

"Take me instead," he begged, watching in horror as Eleanor's eyes rolled up in her head and she sagged against the magical binding around her.

Kellan paid him no attention as she lowered her head and began to chant.