Whatever schedule the Seeker had put together was hopelessly thrown off by the horsemaster. It was anticipated that Dennet would ask for their help in exchange for his horses, but they had expected something manageable, such as a vanguard or a personal escort to Haven. Instead, he asked for three permanent watchtowers near his farm, plus the help of their team in clearing out a nearby den of particularly vicious wolves. They lost a whole afternoon recovering when it turned out the pack had been taken over by a demon- a turn of events Varric described as "typical". Cassandra had not banked on the delay and vented her frustration to anyone willing to listen, which, by dinnertime, was only Jane.

Finding locations for the watchtowers seemed like it would be the more straightforward task, but thanks to the bears, skirmishes, and Fade rifts, each one took nearly half a day.

In the end, they spent four days at the farm, which was four days too long, in Elizabeth's opinion. Dennet, it turned out, had a talent for putting his foot in his mouth at any given opportunity. On the first day, he managed to call Varric a mule-rider and insult the entire Trevelyan family to Jane's face. Elizabeth would admit to being delighted when Dennet visited the camp on the second day and referred to Solas as "the Dalish one", but she couldn't forgive the man for putting the rest of the camp in a foul mood.

To Elizabeth's relief, Solas seemed just as discreet on the subject of her use of the Veil to watch things as he'd been previously, though it was clear that what he'd seen had disturbed him. Aside from giving her a stack of clean wolfskins the day after they cleared out the den-which, she assumed, he did to demonstrate that one could skin animals without looking like one had walked out of a bloodbath-he spoke no more than ten words to her. Twice, she even caught him staring at her with a hard glint of disapproval in his eyes.

Besides Solas all but shunning her, the main highlight for Elizabeth was that Jane received two letters from Cullen, one on their first day there and one on their last. Technically, they were official reports, but Elizabeth thought she could detect a certain subtext behind his words. Jane, on the other hand, believed them to be strictly professional.

"It's a report , Lizzie, not a poem," Jane insisted when her sister started to analyze the second letter.

Elizabeth ignored her. "Look! Three times in two letters, he writes that he anxiously awaits your return," she pointed out to her sister. She looked up from the letter she was reviewing and gave Jane a meaningful look. " Anxiously. "

"In this one, he uses 'we', though," Jane replied, holding the first letter. "' We anxiously await your return,' you see. He's talking about the council." She flipped the paper in her hand over. "And at least in this case, he goes on to mention Cassandra, so I think he means the plural 'you'."

"How about this, then? He hopes that the camp food is better than Flissa's vegetable soup?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrow.

Jane looked away, pink rising to her cheeks. "We had lunch at the tavern once, and-"

"Yes, yes, I can guess the particulars," Elizabeth said, waving her hand. "I'm more interested in your explanation as to how an inside joke belongs in an official report."

"He has a good sense of humor," Jane replied.

Elizabeth laughed, shaking her head. "You're impossible," she said. "Come on, then, let me see your response so far." Jane stood and went to her knapsack, pulling out a rolled parchment. She handed it to Elizabeth, who read the first line and frowned. "You're still addressing him as 'Commander'? Not 'Cullen'?"

Jane crossed her arms. "They are reports, Lizzie."

"Fair enough," Elizabeth said. "And you never know, maybe he likes you calling him 'Commander'. Some people are into that sort of-"

"Elizabeth," Jane said, turning bright red.

At that moment, the Seeker called their names from outside the tent. Jane hastily put away the letters while Elizabeth stood and poked her head out of the flap. "Yes?"

"Varric has returned," she said. "We will be heading to Winterwatch Tower as soon as you are ready." One of the scouts had informed them that a sizeable cult resided in the old tower, and Jane was hoping to turn their efforts towards the refugees. Varric had left that morning to scout ahead.

"Thank the Maker," Elizabeth muttered.

Cassandra let out a huff of air. "My sentiments exactly." She glanced deeper into the tent, her brow tightening, and lowered her voice to a whisper. "It is almost the end of the week, and we have spent most of it here. Do you think that the Herald will want to delay our return to Haven?"

Elizabeth grimaced at the idea of spending more time in the Hinterlands. She was eager to get back to Harritt's lessons and a real bed. "If she does, I'll personally tie her up and throw her on the back of my horse," she whispered back.

A voice came from within the tent. "I can hear both of you!"

"Then consider that your only warning!" Elizabeth called back. She smiled at Cassandra politely. "We'll be ready in just a moment."

As they left the farm, Elizabeth had to practically drag Jane away from a 'Lost Druffalo' sign. They ended up running back to tell an Inquisition scout that the Herald wanted them to look for the animal, though Elizabeth declined to add Jane's qualifier of "urgently".

" You need to focus," she told her sister as they left for the second time. "If the Maker really did put that mark on your hand for a reason, I don't think He had missing pets in mind."

"It's not a pet," Jane replied. "Druffalo are an important part of agricultural stability." The sincerity in her voice made Elizabeth laugh, which, in turn, made Jane's frown more pronounced.

Elizabeth tried, and failed, to straighten her face. "I didn't realize that the Maker was such a druffalo fan," she said. "I must have missed that verse in the Chant. Tell me, is it before or after Threnodies?"

Jane shook her head. "You're lucky Mama isn't here."

"In so many ways," Elizabeth agreed. "But seriously, Jane, the Breach must be our focus right now. You can run around Ferelden saving druffalo to your heart's content when it's sealed."

"I'd be careful," Varric said from ahead. Elizabeth looked up, surprised. She hadn't realized the others were close enough to hear their conversation. "That sounds like it ends with Jane bringing home every abandoned druffalo in Thedas."

Jane looked at him with wide eyes. "Do people really abandon them?"

Varric smirked and glanced back at Elizabeth. "See? Good luck getting the smell out of your clothes."

Elizabeth laughed. "Jane can do as she chooses. I won't be at…" she began to reply, then frowned, swallowing the words ' Longbourn much longer' as quickly as she could. When her sister looked at her curiously, she smiled and recovered. "I won't be… at all bothered by the smell. If we continue to visit such fragrant campgrounds, I'll be quite used to it."

Varric said something in response, and she let Jane reply, hardly listening. She was already lost in thought.

Since she'd learned of Justinia's death, a flutter of panic appeared in Elizabeth's stomach whenever she thought about the future beyond the Breach. She could not imagine the next Divine being quite as lax on mages. The average person in Thedas would want someone to blame for the war, and she doubted the Chantry would hang the templars out to dry unless public opinion forced them to, which seemed unlikely. A general fear of magic made the mages too convenient a target.

The flutter grew. Where would she be in one year's time? The safest option would be returning to a Circle quietly. It was tempting, but a growing part of her did not like that she would willingly submit herself for stability's sake. Once she was behind those walls, it would become much harder to object to anything, and she would slowly become used to things again, to rights being chipped away around her. What could she do from inside a Circle if the abuses became worse? Ostwick had been bad enough toward the end, with rising tensions on both sides and leadership turning a blind eye. But what if it became like Kirkwall? What if she were caught using the Veil to observe magic in a place like that? She knew she would be safer than some of her brethren, as a human with a noble name, but she did not want to stand idly by and let others suffer. There had to be a limit to what she would accept.

But then, what other choices would she have? Become an Isolationist? An apostate? A younger Elizabeth would have found the idea idiotic, would remind her of the risks involved, and would swear to her that the Circles could be reformed from within. But now she was not so sure.

There was, of course, a darker option, one that she hated to consider, but it was something she could not bring herself to do to Jane, or the rest of her family. She had long ago told herself that she would only consider it if she were under immediate threat of facing the Rite of Tranquility, and she did not mean to break that promise.

Lost in her thoughts, Elizabeth followed the group, half-listening as Jane tried to teach the others conversational Orlesian. Eventually, she took her own advice and decided to put her own feelings aside until the Breach could be closed and her sister could safely return home. It would not do to dwell on things she could not change.

There was another Inquisition camp near Winterwatch, and the five of them stopped there to eat their midday meal and get information from the scouts before approaching the cult.

"They're nice enough, for cultists," Scout Weldon told them. "As long as you keep them from trying to convert you. Then they can get a bit pushy, with all the Maker's Breach talk."

"I suppose it is natural that people would start worshipping the Breach," Solas said thoughtfully as Cassandra passed him a sack of berries.

"Won't that make me unpopular with them?" Jane asked. "If they worship the thing I'm trying to close, won't they see me as a threat?"

"Ritts says they'll be impressed that you can control the rifts," the scout told her. "They have one in the tower. It's one of the reasons they live there."

Cassandra stopped chewing to stare at him. "They purposely live near a Fade rift?" she asked.

"Yes, my lady," Weldon confirmed. "But they're not all a bad sort," he added, seeing the horrified expression on the Seeker's face. "They take in everyone. Elves, dwarves, rebel mages, runaway templars… you name it."

"As long as you join the cult, I assume," Elizabeth added dryly.

"Well, yes," the scout said. He nodded at Jane. "After you're all done eating, Ritts can walk you up herself. She's made a few points of contact in the building, which should get you through the door."

Ritts introduced them to Speaker Anais, the leader of the cultists, who regarded Jane with open suspicion, but agreed to let them try to close the Fade rift. She guided them into the fortress, chatting amicably with the scout.

Winterwatch had once been an elegant fortress, Elizabeth could tell. It reminded her of the old Trevelyan estate, where their uncle still lived outside Ostwick. As children, the girls would visit with her grandfather, Lord Trevelyan's father, and he'd let Jane, Elizabeth and Mary walk the ramparts.

But this fortress was not so well kept. By its decrepit state, it must have spent decades, maybe even centuries, without an owner, or perhaps with one too poor to care for it. The cultists were fortunate that the foundation still held as strongly as it did.

As they entered the courtyard, people leaned over balconies and stared down at them, curious. Elizabeth shivered, feeling the hairs on her arm stand up in a familiar way, and she was not surprised when Solas mentioned he could feel another artifact nearby. When the Speaker gave them leave to explore the tower, he, Varric, and Jane went to investigate.

As they left, Cassandra turned to the Speaker. "We are told that you have welcomed both mages and templars. Would we be able to speak with any of them?"

Anais glanced at the staff on Elizabeth's back before she answered. "Unfortunately, the war is not kind to either side. Even with our protection, we've lost the few who have found us." She gave Ritts a look of pity. "Your scout was close with one of the mages. What was her name, my child?"

"Eldredda," Ritts said, looking more guilty than sad. "Templars killed her right outside the gates two weeks ago."

"Yes," Anais sighed. "And then, a few days ago, we lost a man from the Order. He had such terrible nightmares."

Ritts looked surprised. "The one from Ostwick?" she asked, as Elizabeth froze. "He's dead?"

"Yes, child," Anais said, shaking her head. "Such a tragedy. He took his own life."

Somehow, Elizabeth found her voice. "This man- his name wasn't Mattrin, was it?" she asked.

Anais took in her expression. "Oh, dear. You knew him, didn't you?" she asked, sadly. Elizabeth managed to confirm she did, closing her eyes. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Ellendra's templar?" Cassandra asked. Elizabeth met her gaze and nodded. The Seeker's lips thinned grimly and she sighed. "We will have to inform her."

"He's with Andraste now," Anais said, her eyes drifting skyward. After a pause, she turned back to them. "He left some personal items. A vial, and a- a letter. If you knew him- if you would be so kind?"

"Of course," Elizabeth said.

Jane returned a moment later, and Cassandra informed her of what they had learned. Elizabeth had to talk her sister out of leaving for the Crossroads immediately, much as it pained her to prioritize the Inquisition over her friend. She insisted they stick to their plan, which would have them in the Crossroads by the next day, both to return the supplies they'd found for Recruit Whittle, and to check in with Harding before they left for Haven.

Elizabeth rose the next day, sore and quiet, feeling like she'd never slept, and could not stomach much for breakfast. They left at dawn.

"I am so, so sorry," Elizabeth said. She had brought Ellendra to an abandoned apothecary hut to talk while Jane and the others checked in with Whittle.

Ellendra did not respond. She stared at her phylactery on the table before them with unseeing eyes. Her hand twitched towards it and then stopped. After a moment, Elizabeth reached out to touch her.

Her friend looked up then, her eyes focusing. "I thought he was dead, you know. After the White Spire. I adjusted. I moved on. For so long, I truly thought..." Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head. "When I first heard that he might be alive, I didn't dare hope it was true. I told myself I was prepared. That I knew he was already lost to me. I think I believed it myself." She closed her eyes, though no tears spilled out. "But, you know, I've always been such a good liar."

They sat in silence for several minutes, Elizabeth stroking Ellendra's hand. Finally, Ellendra stood, pulling away from her friend's grasp. She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her sleeve.

"Very well," she said in a cool voice. "I shall join your Inquisition."

Elizabeth paused, surprised by the shift in subject and tone. "Oh, Ellendra. You don't have to decide that now."

"I'm afraid I do, actually," she replied.

"No," Elizabeth said. "Ellendra, please. You should take the time to mourn."

Ellendra traced the edge of the table with a finger. "Time," she said softly. "Time was a luxury Mattrin and I could not afford." She folded her arms and lifted her chin as she walked to the window of the hut, watching the villagers below. "Change is coming. This war is all but over. Don't you feel it in the air?"

The familiar flutter of panic danced in Elizabeth's stomach, and she swallowed thickly before speaking. "Of course I do."

"We are mages, Eliza," Ellendra said. "The clock is ticking. The moment the Chantry is able to place itself upright, it will crush those of us who are not careful. Justinia was the only barrier between us and them before, and now she is dead." She turned her head and offered her friend a smile that did not reach her eyes. " You have already done the wisest thing."

"I have?"

"Yes. You joined them," Ellendra said, looking back out the window.

"Joined the Chantry?" Elizabeth said, astonished. She stuttered over her words. "Me? That's not what the Inquisition is at all. The- the Chantry has denounced us!"

"Who? Do you mean the collection of Revered Mothers bickering in Val Royeaux?" Ellendra asked. "The so-called Chantry is currently a coop of powerless, nameless hens. They cluck at the dogs that guard them, thinking they see foxes. The only reason they're allowed to grandstand in this manner is because everyone with enough power or influence to silence them died at the Conclave." She turned back to Elizabeth and raised an eyebrow. "Well. That is, almost everyone."

Realization dawned in Elizabeth's mind. "The Right and the Left Hand," she said. "Cassandra and Leliana. You think one of them will be the next Divine."

"If your sister is successful, yes," Ellendra agreed. "And if not, well." She shrugged, turning away again. "Then I suppose that this whole discussion will be rendered moot."

Elizabeth frowned. "That's the reason you were considering the Loyalists, isn't it? So you could work with the new Divine." She tilted her head. "But why? To promote Circle reforms? I doubt the Loyalists would let you."

Ellendra laughed shortly. "Eliza, Andraste herself could swoop down from the Maker's side and tell the Chantry to treat mages better, and they still would not listen," she replied. "And it does not help that the mages insist on responding like wild animals. All these rebels have done is create an argument for stronger fences and more restrictions, and it's the same every time, isn't it?" Ellendra's expression turned sour. "I have no doubt that the future of the Circle will be dark, much darker than anything you or I have seen, I'm sure." She paused and placed her hands on the window sill. "But the new Circle of Magi does not have to be the future of every mage. There will continue to be positions for those in good standing with the Order. In Circles or at court, I imagine, especially for those who help the Divine rebuild. Positions with more freedom and safety. It is something we both should consider."

"Leadership? As Loyalists?" Elizabeth looked at her friend in shock. "So you suggest that we swear Chantry fealty and advocate for the Order? Become lackey First Enchanters, denounce every part of the rebellion? Toe the line and keep the peace, regardless of what is asked of us?" She shook her head in frustration. "Is that what you plan to do?"

A beat of silence passed. "Essentially," Ellendra admitted with a shrug.

"It is not sound, Ellendra. You know it is not sound. You will be safe, but the rest of us will not be. Would you really abandon your own people?"

"My own people?" Ellendra said sharply. "Am I required to stand for their actions now, when we have seen what those actions lead to?"

"The actions of some mages, as well as the actions of some of the templars," Elizabeth replied. "But all of the mages will be punished, won't we? Unless we become Chantry watchdogs." She shook her head in disgust. "Would you even try to reform?"

"And make myself a target? Why, so I can be on record for supporting something that will never happen?"

"When you were my instructor, you taught me reform was possible," Elizabeth argued. "That it was necessary."

"Yes," Ellendra replied, her voice quieting. She looked at the vial on the table then, and her eyes became sorrowful. "And since then, I've come to believe there is something to be said for the status quo." The anger melted from Elizabeth's chest as quickly as it had risen, replaced by a stab of shame.

"Oh, Ellendra, I apologize," she said, softly. "I didn't mean to argue with you. Especially not right now."

Ellendra stared for another moment, and then gave Elizabeth a sad smile. "Of course. We are both emotional. I am sorry, too." She opened her arms, and Elizabeth moved forward to hug her tightly. When they broke apart, Ellendra's face was once again impassive. "Leave me, then. I promise you, I will come to Haven as soon as I have written to Mattrin's family and closed out my affairs here." She pocketed the vial and patted Elizabeth on the arm, sighing heavily. "I realize I have disappointed you, Eliza." Elizabeth tried to speak, and Ellendra raised a hand to stop her. "But regardless, I am truly glad we will be in the same place again. I've missed you." She pulled her hand away and turned to gaze at the window again. "I hope that we can put this behind us when we next meet."

"Of course we can," Elizabeth said, pushing aside her lingering concerns. "I'll be glad to have you, too."

Try as she might to be present, Elizabeth was plagued by dark thoughts for the rest of the day. Fortunately, her companions avoided her, letting her hang back as they spoke to the villagers. The only exception was Jane, who frequently reached out to squeeze her hand or touch her back. They all assumed she was mourning Mattrin, which in part was true, and gave her space. She did not correct them, which left the lingering taste of guilt in her mouth.

By the time they finally got to Harding's camp, she felt emotionally exhausted, and she tried to skip the evening meal again. Jane forced her to eat some dried meat before she retired, and so she sat by the fire, chewing methodically and staring at the flames, as Cassandra read part of a letter from Leliana out loud. As soon as Jane was satisfied, she slipped into their tent and climbed onto her bedroll, not even changing out of her tunic.

The Fade took her back to the Circle that night, to a day several years before her own Harrowing. She was making lotuses out of cloth for two homesick apprentices. One of the children grabbed her arm and tugged, and it took Elizabeth a moment to realize the movement was happening on the other side of the Fade.

"Lizzie," a familiar voice said, low and worried, too old to be an apprentice. "Oh, Lizzie."

"Jane?" Elizabeth murmured as she came to. "What's wrong?"

"You're going to kill me," Jane whispered.

Elizabeth blinked as Jane's silhouette became clear in the dim light. She could just make out that Jane's hands were playing with her braid. "Why?"

"I may have done something bad," Jane explained. She swallowed before explaining. "Leliana … in that letter, she said that the Grey Wardens have disappeared, and she's worried it has something to do with the explosion."

"What do you mean, they've disappeared?" Elizabeth asked, confused.

"They're gone," Jane said simply.

"All of them?" Elizabeth said. "How could they…? When did this happen?"

"Several weeks before the Conclave," Jane said.

"Several weeks before…?" Elizabeth began. That did not make sense. She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hand. "What about Blackwall? Isn't he still in Longbourn village?"

"That's exactly what I said," Jane said, sounding a little relieved. She paused for a moment, as if hoping Elizabeth would be able to guess the next part, but Elizabeth shook her head, not understanding. Jane took a deep breath. "That's what I said to Cassandra," she explained, slowly. "And then she said Leliana would want one of us to speak with him in person. So she suggested-"

"Oh," Elizabeth breathed, sitting up as she realized. She was very awake now.

"She suggested that we find him."

"Oh no," Elizabeth said. "Oh Maker," she moaned, placing her head in her hands at the thought of their companions meeting her family, of them meeting her mother. Of her mother speaking to Cassandra, to Solas, about anything . "Oh no, Jane, don't tell me-"

Her sister grasped her hand. "I'm so sorry, Lizzie. In the morning, we're leaving for Longbourn."