"Then am I in some sort of trouble?" the dunmer asked.

"Trouble? Is this a game to you?" Cassandra shouted. She had no patience when this particular creature was involved.

"You avoid my people readily," Leliana put in, "It speaks of advanced training in stealth."

Josephine spoke up as well. "And your presence…unnerves the townspeople. They say you skulk in the shadows."

In response, Volyn told them, "I can't help it. It isn't as though I mean to do harm."

"You also took back your confiscated goods without permission," Leliana said, crossing her arms over her chest as she shifted her weight to the other foot.

"They're mine. You didn't have any right to keep them," Volyn countered.

"They contain a magic we have never seen. They must be properly studied and stored away from the public," Cassandra said.

"Look, I haven't done anything. You said it yourself. I just want to be free to go where I please."

"You don't have that option," Cassandra said.

Volyn held back a snarl. "Why are you so obstinate? I have done what you asked. You kept me in a dungeon for weeks. What more do you want from me?"

"I want answers!"

There was something else in her expression now, not anger, but pain. It puzzled the vampire, as she had never shown this before. She held her anger out for all to see, while keeping other emotions close to her.

For the first time, Velthorn spoke, "The Conclave was completely destroyed. You are the most viable lead we have. You came out of the Fade carrying strange magic that could very well have been what caused the explosion."

"And by the Maker, if you had any part in the Divine's death, I will put you down myself," Cassandra threatened.

"Perhaps its best if you kept him close," Leliana suggested.

Velthorn's eyebrows drew together. "Are you suggesting we take him with us?"

The red-head nodded. "I am. Then he can prove himself to Cassandra, and all others who take him for a demon."

The assembled group exchanged looks and that said just about everything that needed to be said. They were all weighting the pros and cons.

"Fine," Cassandra finally said.

"I'm all right with it," Velthorn said.

Cullen immediately protested. "This is clearly a terrible idea! We don't even know what he is, let alone what he's capable of. If he can lose Leliana's people here in Haven, how easily do you think he'll get away from us out there?"

"I don't want to 'get away'," Volyn interjected, "But being watched every minute of the day and night is irritating."

"Well, I'm sorry if our security is annoying you," Cullen said in a low voice.

"Let this be his first test," Leliana said, "He will go with the Herald to the Fallow Mire and if he is found to be agreeable, he can have the freedom and privacy he would like."

The blond made a noise of disgust. "Fine."

"Good," Leliana said.

With a crooked smile, artfully done without revealing his rather sharp canines, the Dunmer asked, "So, when do we leave?"

The Fallow Mire was, as expected, dark, cool, and damp. The party of five couldn't trust their footing and had found that just about everything so far felt…squishy. They'd tried to ride horses, newly acquired from Dennet, but the poor beasts couldn't manage the wet terrain any better than they could.

"We go to the worst places," Varric complained, pulling his leg from where it'd sunk in the mud.

"For once, I actually agree with you," Cassandra added.

Velthorn put in, "We should mark the occasion," to which Varric chuckled. Even Cassandra managed to crack a smile.

They came upon the Inquisition scout camp after finally seeing their torches in the gloom. It was raining, again, and nobody could tell if it was night or day. They were thankful just to see light and friendly faces.

Scout Harding met them at the edge of camp, greeting them with, "Thank you for coming. We've got quite a mess on our hands."

Her eyes flickered to the one in the back, a figure she'd never seen before. He was only a hooded silhouette, with shining, flame-colored eyes.

"Err, he's with us. He doesn't mean any harm," Velthorn assured her.

She didn't look convinced. Those eyes made her guts squirm in the same way they might if she were face to face with a wolf.

Volyn stepped closer to the light, illuminating more of him. "He speaks the truth. I'm only here to help." He gave her a smile that might have been charming had he been literally anyone else.

"Right," she said, "Anyway, you should all come sit by the fire and eat. We have a lot to discuss and this weather isn't doing us any favors."

"Best idea anyone's had all day," Varric said.

They went over the details of the situation, that some of the Inquisition's people had been captured by Avvar, then were shown to their tents.

The morning was hardly different from the night. The rain had turned into a light drizzle, but the clouds obscured nearly all sunlight. Only a pale circle could be seen in the sky.

This is even worse than Morthal, Volyn thought to himself, and everything smells like rot.

"Are we ready to go?" Velthorn asked the group.

Everyone made one final check and as they made their way toward the main swamp, they were given one last piece of advice.

"Don't disturb the water."

It was good advice. According to the scouts, when anything touched the water, undead rose in droves. The scouts had learned that the hard way, one of them losing her life to the creatures. Thankfully, there was an old road through the swamp. It was disused and in shambles now, but was still a good way to keep track of where you were and where you needed to go.

"Is there anything else we should be watching out for here? I don't know this place," Volyn asked.

"Bogfishers, probably," Solas answered.

"Bogfishers?"

"Rather large, ugly creatures, but they won't cause trouble unless provoked," the elf explained.

"But if there are undead, that means the Veil is thin. We might encounter spirits or demons as well," Velthorn warned.

"He's right," Solas agreed.

"Then be on your guard," Cassandra told them.

They continued down the path, sticking to the most solid places they could find. The air was heavy around them, thick with the rancid odor of stagnant, infected water. Mist swept across the ground and in the air all around them.

Volyn couldn't detect anything around him, not by his nose, at least. However, his alert and sensitive eyes could see mostly everything in the gloom.

"There are buildings ahead of us," he said.

"How can you see anything through this fog?" Cassandra asked.

"Same way I see in the dark, I'd imagine," the dark elf replied, shrugging, "That doesn't change the fact that there are buildings. Do people actually live in this place?"

"Used to live here," Cassandra corrected, "Fisher's End, I believe."

"What happened?"

"A plague," she said curtly.

"Ah. That explains the smell. This place reeks of death."

"What else can you smell?" Solas asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Volyn thought for a moment. "Water. Rot. Disease. Everything is musty and actually rather unpleasant."

"I take it you have very acute senses," Solas said.

"I do."

They had reached the structures Volyn had pointed out. The wood was rotting away, unmaintained and unprotected from the moisture. Moss and mushrooms clung in chunks to what remained of rooves. Just a few feet away, a pile of rotting bodies lay in a hole, some no more than skeletons with bits of blackened flesh clinging to the bones.

Each member of the party reflexively wrinkled their noses at the smell.

"Ugh…that is foul," Cassandra said.

No one else dared open their mouths, lest they taste the awful smell even more clearly. Velthorn thought it was incredibly tragic, however, and wished they could put these people to rest.

As they walked past more ruined houses, Varric said, sounding somber, "These people didn't stand a chance."

"They didn't even have time to bury them," Volyn noted, pointing out the other pits.

"We should burn the corpses to prevent them from being possessed," Cassandra said.

"It's a little late for that," the vampire said, pointing to a few approaching figures.

The walking corpses shambled toward them. A few of them had weapons, which dragged the ground and left grooves in the mud behind them. Each of them were in various states of decomposition. Some didn't have any clothes at all or were missing limbs.

Volyn nocked an arrow and drew back the bowstring before anyone else had the time to react. He released the arrow and it hit its target full in the face, sinking into an empty eye socket. It took him another heartbeat to nock another arrow.

The rest of the group helped to make quick work of the shamblers. The mages decided to kill two birds with one stone and set the pits of bodies ablaze.

"That's the best we can do. Let's move on," Velthorn said.

Farther into the bog, they encountered more walking corpses, but they were easily dealt with. Between Volyn's keen senses and Solas's ability to sense spirits, it wasn't hard to pick them off before being sensed themselves.

It was when they came upon some sort of pillar that they became confused. After lighting the sconce up with veilfire, and subsequently being attacked, the group came to the conclusion that they were beacons of some sort. They lured the undead and a few demons with the beacons and destroyed them.

Somewhere along the way, perhaps halfway between the scouts' camp and the ruins the Avvar had holed up in, they encountered a Rift.

A very large man was watching it, studying it. By his clothing, the group instantly identified him as Avvar, but when he saw them approaching, he didn't go after them as the other Avvar had done.

"Greetings," he said to them.

"Hello," Velthorn cautiously greeted. His marked hand sparked, coming to life at the presence of the Rift. In response, the Rift groaned like wood under a heavy weight.

This didn't escape the Avvar's notice. "So you're Herald of Andraste?"

"I am, yes. Who are you?" the elf returned.

"Amund. Sky Watcher for the Lady of the Skies," the Avvar replied. "My kin want you dead, but it's not my job. No fears from me."

"That's comforting, I suppose," Velthorn said, mostly to himself.

Amund went on. "I'm trying to figure out this hole in the world. Never seen anything like its like. They spit out angry spirits. What the sky's trying to tell us, I don't know. Your people call them 'rifts', don't you?"

"We do," Velthorn said. "Do you know anything about the Inquisition's people? The ones who want to kill me have taken them as hostages."

"A few were injured, but all were alive, last I saw of them," the man replied.

"How long ago was that?" Varric asked.

For the first time, Amund looked over the rest of the party. Volyn quickly looked away, lest the big man catch his eye.

"Two days ago," the Avvar answered.

"We should close this Rift and continue," Cassandra said.

"Right," Velthorn agreed.

The mark was glowing and sparking continuously this close to the dormant Rift. Velthorn raised his hand to the Rift and, by sheer force of thought and will, bade it to open. The thing exploded to life.

Amund raised his war hammer as soon as the demons began to spawn. Two terrors crawled from the Rift, all gangly limbs and twisted features. At the same time, several spirits raced past them, but immediately turned and began to attack.

Varric began firing arrows at the farthest wisp, which fired right back with bolts of green energy. Solas raised a shield just in time to stop the incoming attacks. Two of the wisps dissipated into mist after suffering a chain lightning spell by Velthorn.

Meanwhile, Cassandra and the Sky Watcher took on the terrors. Velthorn cast a shield around them as they fought, knowing terrors had a nasty habit of opening portals right behind an opponent.

Volyn drew his sword, a steel blade loaned to him by the Inquisition, as several wisps flew from the Rift and into the murky waters surrounding them. In moments, the bodies which had previously been floating there stood and began to shuffle toward them.

But the vampire was fast. As soon as the corpses' feet touched solid ground, Volyn chopped the legs from under one of the creatures and severed its head in two quick motions. The second was just as easily dispatched as the first and the dark elf went right on, going after the three others that were coming ashore.

When it as over and the Rift was closed, Amund stood observing the scene.

"Lady of the Skies!" he said, "You can mend the gaps in the air?"

"Yes," Velthorn replied, "It seems I have been given that particular honor."

"Maybe you do have a god's favor," the Avvar said.

"Perhaps he does," Solas agreed, "But for now, we should focus on the scouts."

Velthorn nodded to his companion, then looked back to Amund. "We appreciate the help."

The Avvar gave a little nod of his head. "Anytime."

After this encounter, they found two more beacons and had the keep in sight, but the light rain had turned to an outright downpour. Lightning cracked all around them, splitting the sky in veiny flashes. It was hard to see anything beyond a few feet and all agreed it was time to stop.

"Those towers might provide shelter!" Solas shouted over the raging rain.

They followed his lead, running for the broken towers of the dilapidated castle. One of the towers still had a piece of the first floor attached and they took cover underneath. The rain pounded hard on the side of the stones.

"When we're done here, I suggest we never come back," Varric lamented, wiping a rivulet of water from his forehead and eyes.

"Agreed," Velthorn said, feeling miserably soggy.

Not that there hadn't been hard days with the Clan. Bitter winters and rainy summers. There was one spring where the weather had been so wet, the aravels had been too stuck in mud to be moved. The halla hadn't been happy. None of them had been.

Velthorn lit a fire and the groups' wet clothes were set by it to dry. What couldn't be stripped off clung to their bodies and caused all of them to huddle near the flames.

"The old keep is just ahead," Cassandra said, "Once this rain lets up, we should continue. There is no telling what the Avvar have done with the scouts."

Sleep came uneasy to Volyn. He was restless, despite having spent the last several hours trekking through a bog and killing undead. When he did finally sleep, the souls of all the dragons he'd slain bombarded him with memories and feelings. Words, new and old, human and dovah, floated in his head.

…nii fen kos…

….no! you cannot succeed!...

….joor…

...Lein oblaan…

The sensation of wind over his wings was simultaneously familiar and foreign. Though the air at this height had to be thin and icy, this didn't bother him. A thick coating of brilliant red scales saw to that. Powerful yellow eyes searched the ground below, seeking the mortal who dared move against his Lord, Alduin.

Fragments of such memories filled his sleeping hours and when Volyn woke, he felt no more rested than when he'd gone to sleep.

"What were you dreaming about?" Solas asked the Dunmer as they prepared to leave.

The dark elf shrugged. "Nothing important. Why?"

"You kept muttering things," Varric told him.

"Oh," Volyn said, "Sorry about that."

"I could not identify the language you spoke," Solas went on, "I merely wondered if you perhaps remembered anything about your past."

"No. I didn't," the vampire said shortly, pretending to be preoccupied with his pack.

"You know, people really don't buy the whole 'I don't remember' thing," Varric said, "What you need is a good story."

"And you should stop giving people that advice," Velthorn said from across the camp.

Varric put up his hands, palms out. "Now now, just because it worked for you, doesn't mean it'll work for everyone."

"It worked for me because it's true. And people believe the truth," the elf retorted.

"Whatever you say," Varric said.

With the rain lifted, they got underway. The old keep was just ahead of them, but as they approached the gate, Volyn stopped them.

"There are…a lot of footsteps and groaning. I think…I believe there is a horde of undead swarming those gates."

"Wonderful," the Seeker said, drawing her sword.

"What? You don't like undead in the morning?" Varric asked.

Cassandra answered only with a disgruntled noise.

Horde was an appropriate word for what they found. Dozens of walking corpses were meandering through the water and over the land. Their bloated faces reminded Volyn of the thralls he'd encountered around the lairs of necromancers, though these undead lacked the purple cracks of death magic. But their blank looks and glazed-over eyes were still the same and still unsettling.

"We shouldn't even worry about them. Get to the gate," Velthorn said. After assessing the situation, it seemed to be the only feasible way to get through, especially if they still needed to fight the Avvar inside.

"Agreed," Cassandra said, "We should get a shield up and get through them as quickly as possible."

"Hold on," Volyn said, "Let me distract them so that you might have a clearer path to the gatehouse."

"How do you plan to—"

"Go. I'll be right behind you," the dark elf cut in.

He was gone in a heartbeat, sloshing into the water up to his knees. Every rotting head turned his way as the surface rippled and they began to make a run for the vampire. At the same time, Volyn fired arrows back at them to pick them off.

"He's insane," Cassandra muttered, exasperated with this whole experience.

"But he's buying us time. Let's go. I suppose he'll follow," Velthorn said.

The shamblers had chased after Volyn, leaving the path open for the companions to get to the gate. They were met by Avvar warriors, who attacked on sight. They'd already been worn down by the walking corpses, however, so they were easily defeated.

"This is senseless," Solas commented, "Why do they want this?"

"They are called barbarians for a reason," Cassandra replied.

"They must have traded their brains for swords," Solas sighed.

"So it seems," came Volyn's voice.

He had slipped in when no one was looking. Casually, he was leaned against the rocky wall, arms crossed.

"And how did you manage to lose all those undead?" Cassandra asked, taking long strides towards the dark elf.

Volyn shrugged. "I led them in a circle. They aren't very fast, or very bright. And decaying fingers don't aim a bow as well as one might think. Easy."

"Cassandra, leave him alone," Velthorn sighed, "This isn't the time. We'll discuss it once we've found the scouts."

Cassandra begrudgingly agreed.

Ahead were more Avvar. After perhaps six small skirmishes, they finally reached what might have once been some sort of throne room. A man at least as tall as Amund stood by the broken throne, war hammer resting easily on his broad shoulders. Several others stood around, some with swords, others with bows. All were leveled their way as they entered the roof-less room.

"And so the Herald has come!" the large one proclaimed.

"As you asked," Velthorn returned.

"You have come to die!"

A volley of arrows rained down on the group, but Solas had anticipated it and put a shield around them before ever entering. The arrows bounced around harmlessly and Cassandra drew her blade.

Volyn took out two of the archers with his own bow, the life-draining affect unnoticed in the fray. Cassandra slew another who came after her, turning away the blow with her shield before striking back. Velthorn made quick work of the other assembled archers with a chain lightning spell, which passed back and forth between the Avvar until finally killing all of them.

The one who had challenged the Harold was coming in fast and a mage versus a war hammer in a physical confrontation rarely ever went well for the mage. But this mage wasn't helpless and this wasn't the first time he'd been in combat.

Without an ounce of panic, Velthorn readied another spell and stopped the charging man in his tracks with a strike of lightning. It gave the elf the time to move, running from the center of the battle to one of the pillars that was holding up nothing. But it wasn't long before the Avvar was coming after him again.

"Stop running, little thing!" he bellowed.

Velthorn ignored him and hit him with a few bolts of his staff. The man shrugged the electricity off.

What is he made of?! Velthorn thought, rushing to avoid getting hit with the head of the hammer.

Then he swung the staff around and the blade caught the man in the chest, tearing through the fur and leather armor. It didn't go deep enough to hit flesh, but it certainly gave Velthorn an idea of how to defeat this mountain of a man.

Again, he ducked out of the way of the war hammer and it smashed through another of the pillars, sending a spray of stone and dust everywhere.

At the same time, Velthorn brought the staff blade up, this time shoving it upward with force. It made contact with the flesh, sinking in and causing the man to roar with pain and rage. At the same time, Velthorn unleashed a barrage spell, sending wave after wave of electricity through this man.

The Avvar's eyes went wide as smoke rose from the point of contact. The flesh sizzled and fried. The man couldn't move, caught by the current, mouth frozen open in an expression of agony. Finally, the spell ended and Velthorn pulled the blade free, taking several precautionary steps back.

He needn't have bothered, though, because the Avvar stumbled, dropping his war hammer to the ground. His body quickly followed, falling back with mouth and eyes still open.

Velthorn sighed and leaned back against the nearest pillar, collecting himself. The others were still fighting. No time for collecting himself.

A single archer was left standing, trading arrows with Volyn, so Velthorn simply blindsided him with a blast of lightning. Volyn nodded at the Dalish elf and turned his bow on one of the three remaining warriors.

One of the three ran, but Volyn gave chase, catching her on the stairs leading away from the room. Away from the eyes of the others, he indulged himself. Who knew when he would get another chance to eat? And she didn't fight him for long.

The battle came to a close and Volyn rejoined the others. No one questioned his brief absence and were more concerned with what had happened to the Inquisition's people. As everything settled, though, they heard banging coming from the door in the corner.

"We're here!" came the shouting from the other side of the wood.

The door was, of course, locked.

"Stand away from the door!" Cassandra shouted back.

Where the metal and the wood met was weak, the wood rotting away. It made it quite easy for her. She centered herself and broke the door open with a single solid kick of a booted foot.

The scouts seemed mostly all right. One of them was badly bruised with possible broken ribs, but the rest were all right. They even insisted they could make it back on their own after learning the path was clear so long as you followed the beacons.

"I can't believe the Herald came for us," one of them said quietly to another, limping slightly.

"I told you he wouldn't leave us," another answered.

It made Velthorn's ears burn in embarrassment, but he didn't say anything. Let them believe what they need to.

"Have I gotten into your good graces yet?" Volyn asked Cassandra that night at camp.

"Hardly. But you have at least proven yourself to be useful," the Seeker replied.

Volyn grinned. "Yes, I can be that."

"Well, I'll give you this," Varric said, "You haven't killed us in our sleep yet."

"I didn't have any plans to either."

Velthorn spoke up. "If you'd like, we could use your help on more missions like this."

"I don't have anything better to do," Volyn said, "Does this mean I'm joining the Inquisition?"

Cassandra sighed. "I suppose it does. But you must be more forthcoming about who and what you are. You know more than you are telling, and everyone knows it."

"Again with this?" Volyn asked, but he knew he could only keep up this charade for a short while longer. The evidence against him would continue to stack up.

"Yes. And I will continue to ask until I am satisfied you are not lying to me," Cassandra said.

Volyn laughed. "I doubt that time will ever come."

"True enough," the Seeker admitted.

Someone was approaching the camp, and the companions fell silent. Volyn could see the outline of a large man approaching. Heavy footfalls left prints in the muck behind him.

"Amund," Velthorn said, "Hello."

"Greetings," the Avvar returned, "Your god watches after you, Herald."

"Indeed," the elf said, finding it easier to agree than to argue semantics.

"You've killed the brat, I see. His father, Chief of our holding, would duel me for the loss if he cared enough."

"He…won't care that I've killed his son?" Velthorn asked.

Amund laughed. "No, Balder has not cared for much in many years."

"Are you to return to them, then?"

"I suppose I must, and take the news with me," the Avvar said, "But I saw your fire and wanted to say that it was an honor to meet you. And I don't mean as Herald. You came for your people. It speaks well of your leadership."

Velthorn wasn't sure what to say for a moment, and apparently, no one else knew what to say either. But then a decision was made and he suddenly knew what he needed to do.

"The Inquisition has a purpose your Chief lacks. Join us. Join me. Help us seal the Breach."

The Avvar took on a far-away look. "Is this why the Lady of the Skies lead me here? To help heal the wounds in Her skin?" he seemed to ask his surroundings. Then he looked at Velthorn intensely, "Aye. I'll join you. Let me make peace with my kin and I'll find where you set your flag."

"I look forward to working with you," Velthorn said.

The Sky Watcher left them after that.

"You certainly know how to inspire people," Volyn noted.

Velthorn chuckled nervously, "Not really."

"He has his moments," Cassandra said, but rather than sounding patronizing, it was teasing.

Varric gave the elf a friendly shove on the arm. "Don't listen to her. She's probably just jealous you have a personality."

Haven was the same as it ever was when they returned. After the stifling moisture of the Fallow Mire, however, the party did find it a bit colder than the last time they were there. Dryer too. But that was a positive.

Back in the Chantry, Leliana asked how the trip went with their newest companion.

Cassandra said, "He was useful and followed orders, but we learned nothing more from him regarding his origins."

"I did not figure he would reveal anything so soon," Leliana said, nodding.

"But he was surprisingly relaxed," Velthorn put in, "He wasn't afraid of anything we faced out there, whether it was Avvar giants or the walking corpses. He was adaptable, I mean to say."

The Seeker added, "He's seen combat before and is very good with both bow and sword, though he obviously prefers the former."

Leliana was thinking; the gears turning. "And no hint whatsoever of any personal details?"

Velthorn shook his head. "None."

"Hmm. What do you want to do?" Leliana asked.

"If Cassandra is all right with it, I'd like to continue taking him with us. He'll slip-up sometime," Velthorn said.

At this point, the elf wasn't sure if it even mattered. Volyn was strange in appearance, but so far had proven to be a worthy companion. If he wanted to keep his past hidden, perhaps it was for a good reason. And even if it wasn't, he might tell them eventually. Velthorn was curious, yes, they all were, but he also didn't want to pry.

And besides, so far he had only dodged their questions. Most who hid something terrible would become hostile when questioned. He had only been playful, dancing around their questions as if it were a game.

But Cassandra and most others were still suspicious. If they wanted answers, this was the way.

"That's fine by me," Cassandra said.

"Now that that's out of the way, we do have a few other things to discuss, I'm afraid," Josephine said.

Ugh. Velthorn hated the political side of this job.

Haven made Volyn homesick.

Despite the biting cold, feral animals, dragons, and an over-abundance of bandits, Skyrim had become Volyn's home. And now he was stuck here, not knowing if he'd ever be able to return.

Once more, the dunmer was sitting on the roof of the smithy. It was warm here, a pleasant thing for a creature like himself. The only annoyance was the sharp, constant sound of metal hitting metal. But Volyn had dealt with worse.

The dark elf slipped his pack off and pulled out the Black Book. Thankfully, the Inquisition seemed oblivious to it for now. Either they hadn't opened it themselves or the magic of it didn't work. Volyn hoped it was the first, but dared not check. His mission was not done and Hermaeus Mora was only so patient.

He could not return. Not yet.

But how long would he be trapped here? He longed for Serana and Valerica's garden. He longed for the Sanctuary. He should be training recruits or mixing poisons or something. Not saving a world he didn't even belong in.

The Herald had that covered anyway. He needn't be involved.

Sighing heavily, the vampire slipped the book back into his bag and lay back, looking up at the Breach. It looked like a storm through the misty gloom. Beautiful and powerful.

He'd just have to look on the bright side of this trip. He was certainly getting his fill of unseen wonders.