A couple of bookkeeping points before we continue:

1. The name of the mage whose death was recounted in Chapter 3 was always Evnis.

2. Oceania has always been at war with Eastasia.

I trust that's all clear.

It was just after they'd finished eating that Corporal Dun spoke to Varric. "Ser, the Inquisitor..."

"I know. Leave it to me. And don't call me ser."

He could see why the corporal was nervous. The Herald of Andraste disappearing into the night while she was in charge of the escort... she could hardly be blamed if anything happened, as the alternative would have been an attempt to physically force her boss to stay in camp, but still...

Sometimes even leaders needed a bit of wrangling, and this evening it was Varric's job.

He left the circle of firelight – the washing-up would be someone else's problem, at least – and went in the direction Themis had gone. There was a gentle downslope through the trees. He trod carefully, wary of roots in the little light available.

There – a figure sitting in the shadows. But no, not Themis. Not in that hat.

"Is it here? I think it's here. So tired. Mustn't sleep unless I'm sure. What if it's waiting?"

"Kid? Where -"

Cole pointed.

"Thanks, Kid."

He hadn't gone much further when he saw a new light, very pale and faint. The kind of light a mage might make for herself, if she was trying to be subtle about it. Watching from the dark, Varric saw her poking around one of the old statues that were ten a copper in these woods.

"Looking for something, Herald?"

She shrieked, dropping some object and then following up with a most unladylike word he was fairly sure he'd never heard her use before.

"Don't you know it's bad luck to sneak up on mages?"

"Oh, a day just doesn't seem worthwhile unless I've nearly got my head blown off at least once." He stepped forward to retrieve the fallen item. It was charred and broken, and quite obviously part of a skull. "Friend of yours?"

"Hardly."

"What, then?"

She bit her lip.

Varric settled himself on a convenient rock. "Come on, Herald, it's been a long day. Don't make me turn on the devastating charm."

Themis sighed and leaned against the statue. "It's probably not the first man I ever killed. We'd been travelling a long way to get to the Conclave, and we'd had to use force sometimes – but always to get the room to make a run for it. We were too busy escaping to count corpses. That skull you're holding is the first one I'm sure of. The first time I watched the life leave a body and knew that it was me."

"I'm sure he had it coming."

"He did. That's not the problem..."

Around her, the forest was burning. The trees were towering torches, the undergrowth a carpet of fire. She wasn't afraid. It felt familiar, safe. Almost like... home?

"So it should," said Senior Enchanter Evnis. His eyes were pits of flame. "It is ours to command. With it we will scour the world clean and raise a new one from the ashes."

"A world where mages have justice?" she asked, following him through the conflagration.

"No more templar boots on our throats. They will kneel and we will show no mercy." Evnis waved a hand at a statue in front of them; it was herself, staff upraised, expression triumphant. The stone figure at her feet, caught mid-writhe in loving detail, was Ser Ricklen.

"But why? Wait, you're... and he..." Themis whirled, fled, came gaspingly awake with the blanket clutched in her fists. Next to her, Ardri stirred but slept on.

All was quiet, the glow of the burned-down fire illuminating the scatter of sleeping bodies, the carts and livestock, the nodding sentry. Good. They'd been lucky that the gang of refugees, heading west from the chaos in the Hinterlands, had been willing to let three strangers travel a way with them. Too many nightmares might just tip someone to those strangers' true nature.

Disturbed, Themis extracted herself from the blankets and pulled on her coat. With no real cause, just needing to move, she headed into the trees, waiting until she was safely away from camp before conjuring a light. Justice for mages? What had she been on about? The Circle system was as just as could be managed, given the danger, even if the safeguards against abuses might need tightening up a bit. Back in Ostwick, she'd always assumed the stories to be lies and exaggerations, but having actually spent time with Farron it was becoming difficult to believe it was that simple.

Wait, where was Farron? She didn't remember seeing him nearby when she'd woken. Worrying. There was clearly a rage demon haunting this place, and if it was smart enough to run a number on her...

Still was running it, she realised with a shock. She'd wandered in the same direction it had taken her in the Fade – the statue was ahead of her, in its small clearing, although of course in the mortal world it was not her, but some figure too weathered to make out.

At the sound of voices up ahead, she hastily doused her light.

"Please, I'm worn out, I -" Farron's voice, she was sure of it, and the note of misery and resignation twisted in her gut; he was interrupted by the sound of a blow.

"It'll be a good long rest hung from the nearest tree, mage. Finish up."

She lit up again and took a few paces forward. "What's going on here?"

The answer was right in front of her; the configuration of the two men's bodies, in Farron's expression as, on his knees, he met her eyes.

Rurisk, the de facto leader of the refugee brand, looked over his shoulder at her, with annoyance but without fear. Snarling, he opened his mouth. Themis had no interest in listening to him.

The patient monster inside her reached out, poured fire down his throat. By the time it occurred to him to scream, the parts he needed to do so were already cooking; she saw the terror in his eyes for a scant heartbeat before they started to melt.

Sweet Andraste, what am I doing? She pulled herself back, the realisation that she'd just tried to murder a man crashing in.

Yes yes yes burn burn them hurt them set the world on fire...

Why are you still here? I'm not interested. Go away.

An unheard shriek, an echo of cheated fury, and she was alone again. Sated, the monster slept; deprived of its foothold, the demon fled.

Farron spat and got to his feet. "What in the Void... have you completely lost your mind?"

"Huh?" she responded distractedly.

"Did it not enter your stupid rich-girl head that there was a reason I didn't do that myself, days ago?"

"Well, I – wait, days ago? Has this been going on ever since we joined up?"

"I was dealing with it, all right? Never mind, you need to take care of him." He pointed at the smoking ruin of a human being, still breathing in short, shallow gulps.

"Me? You're the healer."

"He's beyond healing, you featherbrained bint. Finish him off."

Themis stared, nausea settling in her stomach. Within her, the plain facts of the situation warred with an irrational conviction that there had to be something they could do.

"What are you waiting for, Milady? Clean up your own mess for a change."

"All right," she said resignedly. "All right."

"Don't hold back, either. We need him cremated, not just dead."

She bent her will, pulling fire from the Fade and directing it to do its work from the inside out, so that there would be as few visible flames as possible. I already killed him, she told herself. This is mercy. "Maker of the World, forgive us. We have lived too long in shadow without Your Light to guide us. Be with Your children now, O Maker."

The stench and fug were appalling; Farron conjured a breeze to drive them away from the camp.

Finally, drained, she collapsed panting onto a nearby rock. All that was left of Rurisk was blackened bones.

"It'll do," said Farron, kicking leaves over the remains. The skull went spinning and cracked against the base of the statue; he shrugged and left it. "Come on, we need to get Ardri and go."

"What? But – won't that look suspicious?"

He rubbed wearily at his forehead. "Whichever way you slice it, they'll wake up tomorrow and find him gone, and they'll look at us first whether we're there or not. We're the only ones they haven't known their whole lives."

"But there's..."

"Yes?"

She elected not to utter the words 'no proof'. Although Farron and Ardri had never made any secret of the fact that they considered her hugely pampered and sheltered, even she had seen enough to know that sometimes proof didn't matter. Her companions had, after much debate, left their staves at Great-Aunt Betrice's home, in order to be less conspicuous; but Themis had come to realise that in times like these, being a stranger was nearly as bad as being a mage.

"I'm sorry, Farron. I guess you don't get any rest tonight after all."

He shrugged. "Ah, it's not so bad. They've more important things to do than go chasing around Ferelden after us, we don't need that big a head start. But there is something you can do if you want to make it up to me."

"What?"

"When Ardri asks why you did it, leave me out of it. Say he went after you."

"She never did ask, though. I think she knew more about what was going on than he gave her credit for." Themis took the skull from Varric and turned it meditatively in her hands. "I don't know what happened next day. This is still here, so maybe they never found it, or didn't realise it was him... at any rate, if they looked for us, they didn't find us. And this..." she dropped the skull, "Is just one more casualty of the war – one who deserved it far more than most.

"Poor Farron." She shook her head. "He talked a good game, but underneath it all was this scared boy. He'd rather run than fight, and rather give in – if it was safer – than run. That's why he stayed in the Ostwick Circle as long as he did. It must have taken so much courage to leave, and I never realised. It all seems so much clearer in hindsight."

"That's not the only thing that's clearer, is it? You didn't really know why you killed Rurisk at the time, I think."

"No. No, I didn't. I didn't know the... monster was there, not then. I could have explained it all easily enough, like I could have explained a lot of other things. These weren't uncontrolled outbursts – I knew exactly what I was doing, I'd just blinded myself to the why. I never imagined a rage demon might take an interest in me, but it knew. When I think how close I came..." She shivered. "And it's still there. To it, it might as well have been yesterday. I was too late realising where we were, or I wouldn't have set up camp here."

"You don't think you can see it off?"

"I don't know. My denial shut it out the first time. Now that I'm seeing more clearly, I ought to be less vulnerable, but..."

"Surely Chuckles can help."

"I don't think I'm his favourite person right now. I mean, I understand, I still don't know whether it was the right decision... but it was what I had to do. Dorian's right, you can't just tell someone it's time for them to forgive. Cole wasn't ready for that, even if he'd listened he might just have pushed the anger down and let it fester, like I did..."

"Who are you trying to convince here, Herald?"

She snorted ruefully and raised her hands.

Varric continued, "If he's being honest, even Chuckles would have to admit he doesn't really know how Cole fits together. But rage demons he does know – and you know how he likes it when you ask for his advice."

"You're right." She sighed. "If I'm still not happy, a night without sleep won't kill me. Would you..." She stopped, and Varric realised she was watching a light moving through the trees behind him. Turning, he saw that it was on Solas' staff.

"Nice timing, Chuckles."

"Very nice," Themis agreed. "How did you do that?"

"I didn't," said Solas as he came to a halt in front of them. "Cole should get the credit."

"Of course. He knew I needed you."

"No. He said you need to know you don't need me. It piqued my interest."

"Oh. I see." She picked at a fingernail, then shrugged. "Well, even if I don't, your expertise certainly won't hurt. Let me start from the beginning..."