Act VII: The Korcari Wilds

"How did you know who I was? Am?"

Revan and the old woman were sitting on two stumps that the witch had magically shaped into chairs. The Wilds were aflame with golds and pinks as the sun rose in the east, beginning a new day. The shadowed, menacing trees were stark reminders of the previous night, a night of horrors and bloodshed. Revan pushed the memories aside, focusing her attention on the ancient woman who had introduced herself as Asha'bellanar or, as she put it modestly, "just Flemeth."

"I don't know anything. I could just be a crazy old woman, and everything I think I know could just be my imagination."

Revan scowled. "Okay, then. Why did you think I was who I was? Or would it be what I was?"

"Now there's an interesting way of putting it," Flemeth chortled. "Let's see…how to explain it…well, just as the Grey Wardens can sense the darkspawn, and the darkspawn the Grey Wardens, we can sense each other. Out kind, I mean."

"Is that why I felt your presence the first time I entered the Wilds?"

"Indeed, it is. Though I could sense you leagues away. You should really begin working on your range, dearie. Perhaps, one day, someone like us will show up on your doorstep ready to change the world. You certainly showed up on mine."

"Right, because something like that is just so likely," Revan responded sarcastically. "But how did you sense that I was coming? Before I crashed; I mean, when you told Keeper Marethari about me."

Flemeth looked towards the sunrise and grinned toothily. "You restrain yourself to your pathetic mortal bonds. I…have freed my mind. I am no longer restricted to the confines of space and time like all the others are. It is one of our many gifts, which you seem to have spurned."

"That choice—to become what I have…it was a bad decision on my part, one that has caused me too much regret," the Jedi admitted, "one that I intend to fix. So, you can travel through time?"

"Ha ha!" Flemeth cackled. "I wish! If that were the case, I would make sure that these damned Blights never happened and that those damn-foolish Tevinter didn't go poking their noses where they shouldn't have been. No, my mind can travel through time. It's a dangerous hobby. Sometimes you can get lost in the possibilities. But, if you know what to look for, you can predict the future pretty accurately. Of course, there's always the off-chance that it doesn't happen at all. But there's also the chance that hippos will turn pink and the sky will turn green."

"So why did you give Marethari the drawings?"

"You mean the wards? To help control your powers? Why not? I don't want you losing control and murdering any essential people, or yourself. I have to protect my investments," the old woman said slyly.

"Are they your so-called 'essential people'?" Revan gestured to her hut, where Rose and Alistair recuperated, their wounds healed by magic.

"Indeed," Flemeth assented. "At least, they are two of the few."

"Is that why you came to save us? Even if it was against your nature?"

"Ah, you have learned something about us, after all. Yes, I saved them because I believe—wait, do I believe? Yes, I do believe they are necessary to end this Blight. You, unfortunately, can't end it alone."

"Why not?" Revan swiveled her head, surprised.

"You can't kill him. You can't even hurt him. But neither can he hurt you."

"That's good to know." There was a lull in the conversation. They observed the sun as the bright disk spread its light further and further into the dark Wilds, the mere company of the other enough for both of them.

Revan saw someone emerge from the woods behind them. It was a young woman, about Rose's age, who Revan could see was imbued with magic. Flemeth had told Revan about the girl earlier when she had been absent to help heal the others. Apparently the girl was a gifted shapeshifter, as well as a constant annoyance to her mother.

The girl walked up behind her mother and grasped the back of the tree-chair with her talon-like fingers. Flemeth, too, had sensed her daughter's approach, so she was not surprised in the slightest.

"And who is this, Mother?" she asked, her voice rich for one so young.

"You would know, if you had stayed home instead of going out and spying on the Chasind," Flemeth berated her. "This is my guest, as are the two Wardens sleeping inside."

"Grey Wardens? Again?" the girl asked incredulously.

"The same ones in fact," Flemeth remarked. Her daughter arched an eyebrow, somehow reminding Revan of a cat.

"You mean, the somewhat-intelligent girl and the—"

"—the foolish, yet relatively sensible Templar, yes," Flemeth finished.

Revan recalled from Duncan's memories that he had recruited Alistair from the Templars. She still had a hard time reconciling the image of the goofy Warden with the serious faces of the Templars she had seen, plus the grim, strict atmosphere of the Chantry that pervaded Duncan's memories. Though, thinking about it, it made sense. It would explain his fear of her, a mage, and the random flashes of serious contemplation that he had experienced during battle.

The girl grimaced before fixing her yellow, primal eyes on Revan. "And what of you? I don't remember you from earlier."

Revan smiled back in response. "That's because I wasn't there earlier. I was…doing other things."

Her eyes narrowed, again in a feline way, before she continued. "And what do they call you?"

"Dragonheart, if you must know," Revan told her. "And your mother tells me you are called Morrigan."

Morrigan's eyes flitted to her mother, her mouth drooping in displeasure. "Indeed," she said curiously. "But you should not trust everything Mother tells you."

"At least I've taught you something," Flemeth chortled. "However, Dragonheart here can tell when a crazy old fool is lying to her or not. Isn't that one of your fancy Jedi mind tricks, dearie?"

Revan didn't know how the old woman knew about her Jedi roots, but she assumed it had something to do with her ability to be mentally anywhere at any time. For all Revan knew, perhaps Flemeth had once been a Jedi, or even a Sith. It would certainly explain a lot.

"Yes, it is, for those of us who care to learn it," she answered honestly.

"That would be a useful gift to have," Morrigan agreed.

"Now, enough jibber jabber!" Flemeth snapped. "Morrigan, you are to see to our guests while they are here. Anything they require, you are to fetch for them. You also have to take care of them while they are resting."

The young girl flinched at the implications of the order. "Is that really—"

"Do it, girl," Flemeth ordered, her voice growing deeper by increments.

She sighed in resignation. "Very well."

Morrigan turned and gave Revan one last appraising look. She was an attractive, if yet wild and exotic, girl, with raven black hair and delicate features. For all her bravado, she looked more like an innocent girl than a ferocious Witch of the Wilds, with the exception of her skanky, revealing clothes and the twisted, wooden staff strapped to her back. She walked away, her back as straight as a board, and her chin lifted in pride.

Throughout the rest of the day, Morrigan was inside tending to her charges. Meanwhile, Revan and Flemeth talked, perfectly comfortable watching the horizon from their chairs while talking about things that would have confused anyone that hadn't been through the same things as they had. They exchanged stories, Revan beginning and explaining her life from the planet she had been raised on, to her part in the Mandalorian War, and then to her tragic turn to the Dark Side. Revan told her how she came to Thedas the first time, unafraid to tell the woman because they had both sinned the same. Flemeth listened intently, fascinated. When Revan had finished, she began her own tale.

Flemeth had not begun as a Witch of the Wilds. She had begun as a Jedi apprentice, much as Revan had, but Flemeth had been recruited by the Sith at an early age. She had taken part in the Great Hyperspace War, on the side of Ludo Kressh. After he was killed, she had left and, wandering the galaxy, had found herself on Thedas. However, when she crashed due to the strange anti-electric field that surrounded the planet, she found herself at the mercy of Tevinter slavers who had taken her lightsaber and had collared her. While displaying her at an auction, a powerful Tevinter magister had fallen in love with her beauty upon seeing her, and had decided to marry her. Controlled by his magic, Flemeth slowly learned how to use magic from watching her new, despised husband, while carrying on an affair with a young, penniless minstrel. Unfortunately, much betrayal and scheming had followed, and, out of desperation for power to escape her fate, Flemeth had struck the deal.

The old woman was speaking of the result of her dangerous bargain when screaming erupted from the house. They both swiveled around to see poor Alistair, dressed only in his small clothes with a terrorized expression on his face, bursting out of the hut. He looked around, petrified, before fixing his gaze on Revan. His eyes were dilated in distress.

"I don't have any pants," he said, dazed and frantic. "Please tell me this is just a dream!"

Revan felt sympathy for the traumatized lad. She touched his mind with the Force, imbuing him with peace and exhaustion. He wobbled slightly. "This is a dream," she told him, using the same trick that she had used on Ser Jory.

"This is a—" Alistair swayed, falling to the ground with a thud.

Morrigan emerged calmly from the hut, her face contorted with displeasure. She looked condescendingly at the now-snoring body of Alistair. "What a miserable waste of air," she commented.

Revan arose, her legs sore from sitting all day. With a little mental effort, she lifted Alistair with just her mind and brought him back inside the hut. At the door, she turned back to Morrigan, who was observing the Jedi coolly.

"Get the poor man some pants would you, please?" Revan commanded. Morrigan's eyes narrowed in anger, but she followed Revan in.

The inside of Flemeth's hut was surprisingly tidy and clean. A fireplace roared with a cackling blaze, and books were orderly placed on a nearby bookshelf with a few chairs seated next to it. A neatly-concealed ladder led to what Revan assumed was Morrigan's bedroom. Herbs were strung from the ceiling, making the room smell like spring. Rose lay on the large bed, the covers twisted around her body as she tossed in a sea of dreams. A cot, much like the ones Marethari used, lay next to it, the blankets thrown off in what appeared to have been a struggle. She set him down, using only the power of her mind and the Force. Morrigan returned shortly, carrying a pair of brown trousers in her hands.

"I'm not putting them on," she said bluntly.

Revan raised an eyebrow. "What did he do to make you hate him so much?"

Morrigan opened her mouth to answer but stopped, searching for a proper response. "He's…he's a twit," she finally answered.

Revan gave her a skeptical look. "He assumed I was a threat," she finally gave in. "He took one look at me and judged me."

The Jedi looked critically at her but didn't say anything. Instead, she lifted the pants out of her arms with the Force and, using her mind, put them on Alistair. Morrigan looked at Revan questioningly.

"What?" Revan asked. "I didn't want to put them on him, either."

Morrigan began smiling, but quickly caught herself and, with a small nod of respect, slipped back out into the Wilds. Revan grabbed a chair and drew it up in between the beds, looking at her friends as they peacefully slept. She felt…horrible. About Duncan, about the Blight, about Lyna. It seemed that everywhere she went something horrible happened. Perhaps it would have been better if she had died on board her flagship, like Malak had wanted. Or even before, like when she had first crashed on Thedas. Perhaps it would have been better if the Sith Emperor had just killed both her and Malak when he had had the chance.

The Sith Emperor…she had forgotten her original purpose of coming into the deepest regions of space. Revan clutched her head, rocking back and forth. While she was stuck on this back-water world, the entire galaxy was in peril because she had gone to the wrong planet.

After what seemed like an eternity in her mind, Flemeth entered the hut, presumably seeing what Revan was up to. Revan quickly uncurled herself from the fetal position, hoping Flemeth hadn't noticed.

"I forgot, as I often do," the old woman began cryptically. "Come with me."

Revan rose from her chair, following Flemeth to the bookcase. Flemeth waved her hand through the air, muttering a few words under her breath. A large hole appeared in the floor, the space beyond it black as night. Flemeth turned and smiled at her before jumping down. With a sigh of reluctance, she jumped down after the old woman.

She softened the blow of the fall with the Force, which she used to slow the rate of her descent by a small degree. It was fairly dark, but her second sight allowed her to see everything around her in detail. Flemeth stood in front of her, surveying the cavern. Roots tore through the ceiling on the far ends, reaching down threateningly. The entire cavern was filled with items, ranging from books to armor and weapons. And, on a pedestal in the center, was a crystal. Light seemed to be sucked into it, a void akin to a black hole. But, in fact, it shone blindingly with energy in Revan's special sight. An unknown substance laced its surface, glowing softly in contrast with the black body. Although the substance was alien to Revan, its energy was somehow familiar, too. She slowly approached the crystal, her eyes fixated on it.

"Ah, yes, you have noticed the Force crystal," Flemeth turned. Her eyes burned yellow in the dark, her pupils nothing more than draconian slits. "It is ancient, even older than I."

"Really? I've never seen a crystal like it," she commented as she slowly approached the pedestal.

"I would think not," Flemeth responded. "It's laced with lyrium."

Revan spun around. "Lyrium? You mean, the stuff that gives mages their power?"

"It doesn't give power," Flemeth corrected her. "It amplifies it. You should know this, dearie."

Revan, with one more, longing glance at the coveted crystal, returned to Flemeth's side. In front of her was a chest with a complicated lock sealing it. With a flick of her ancient hand, gears began turning, tumblers began clicking, and the top popped open. Flemeth cast a small globe of light, which stood suspended above her head. Revan shielded her eye from this sudden burst of light, but soon her sight adjusted. Flemeth gave her a toothy grin and proceeded to dig through the large chest. Revan moved closer, peering over the older woman's shoulder. The chest was filled with clothes, armor, and weapons wrapped in cloth. Potions filled the corners. The metallic armor glinted brilliantly even in the dim light of the magelight. Finally, with much muttering and cursing, Flemeth pulled out a stack of clothes. She sorted through them and handed Revan some silk, nude undergarments. Revan held them up, examining them with both of her sights.

"Put them on," Flemeth commanded her.

"Now?" Revan whipped her head around.

The old woman laughed. "Dearie, I've raised countless daughters. I've seen it all."

Revan pursed her lips, but stripped and put them on. The shirt sleeves ended halfway down her upper arm, and the pants clung to her upper calves. They clung to her skin and fit her form like a second skin. The silk breathed well, too.

Flemeth turned, appraising how they fit with a critical eye. "Good. His stuff fits you. He was a slender man, I remember."

The Jedi's eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

The old woman returned to digging in the chest. Still mumbling, she took something out and patted it gently. She turned back to Revan. A black bundle was reverently clutched in her talon-like hands. Flemeth smiled at the clothes, her face misting over as she reminisced.

"These belonged to a dear friend of mine," the witch finally spoke. "I wanted you to have them. They will serve you better than they will me. I do not fear my own power, as you seem to, even though that power will protect you. If you let it."

Revan took the black bundle. It was a pile of leather, supple and strong between her fingers. Revan unfolded the leather to find a suit of leather armor of a superior quality. Her second sight revealed that the armor was enchanted.

"Armor?" she asked bluntly.

"Even dragons have armor," Flemeth retorted. "And you seem to think you can take on the entire darkspawn horde wearing nothing but fragile Dalish garments."

Revan grinned foolishly, reprimanded. She slipped the cuirass over her head, strapped on the gauntlets, fastened the greaves, and tugged on the boots. The leather magically adjusted itself to her body. Lastly, Revan clasped the hood to the cuirass, letting it rest against her back. She moved around in it, and the armor responded to her movements. She was surprised Flemeth had given it to her.

"What's the catch?" Revan asked, skeptical of Flemeth's intentions.

"Smart girl," she answered. "You know that everything has a price. My price is quite small. There will be a time in the future when I will come and visit you. You won't want to listen to me; my price is that you do."

Revan raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"That's it," Flemeth agreed.

"Well, thank you, then," the Jedi said awkwardly. "Who did they belong to?"

"A hero," the old woman began. "One of the only men that was both wise and strong. He came here, instead of becoming a dictator to his people."

"Then how did his thing come to be here?"

Flemeth smiled sadly. "He…knew he was going to die. He gave me his things and told me to give them to whoever I deemed needed them. The only things he took with him were his magnificent, magic cuirass, his enchanted gauntlet Wraithguard, his armor, and his great, flaming sword."

"What happened to it all? When he died?"

She thought about it. "The sword died with him. The armor was distributed, and the cuirass was lost. No one is quite sure what happened to it. Not that anyone cares anymore. His name was lost in antiquity, much as ours will be, in time."

"How did he die?" Revan asked, now enraptured.

"That…is a story for another time. Another time, where we have more time to speak of such idle things. Now your friend is going to wake up soon. Let's try not to have a repeat of last time, hmm?"

Flemeth walked back to the thin beam of light that shone from the hut above and, with the aid of magic, propelled herself up. With one last look at the crystal, Revan jumped, using the Force to jump higher. The witch then resealed the entrance with a spell. Revan returned to her seat in between beds, but the same feeling of melancholy returned as she sat. Flemeth was at the door before she noticed something was wrong.

"Yes? What thoughts trouble you, dearie?"

"I just…I didn't come here to stop the Blight," Revan said honestly.

"No, you came here to save your friends from dying," Flemeth retorted.

"I didn't come to Thedas to stop the Blight," Revan modified her statement. "I was supposed to go to Dromund Kaas, the homeworld of the Sith Empire, to destroy the Sith once and for all. But I didn't remember that, and I ended up here by accident."

Flemeth smiled. "Nothing is by accident, dearie. You should know that."

"So you're saying you brought me here?"

"No," Flemeth said, "but I did insure that you were not needed on Dromund Kaas."

Revan looked up, startled. "What?"

"We can split our souls, make multiples of ourselves," Flemeth explained. "It takes a lot of effort, but it can be done. I sent myself in your place."

"As me?" Revan asked incredulously.

"Of course as you!" Flemeth cackled.

"But we look nothing alike!" Revan protested. "The Sith will know you are not me."

"You forget, I have more magic than you," Flemeth waved her finger at the Jedi. "I can make people see what they want to see, even when it's totally different than what is really there. The only thing you need concern yourself with about Dromund Kaas is Lord Scourge. Besides that, you should relax and focus on not getting killed here. In Thedas."

"Who is Lord Scourge?" Revan asked in confusion.

"You'll find out eventually," Flemeth dismissed the comment with a wave of her withered hand and exited the hut, leaving Revan with her jumbled thoughts.

Revan sat for a while until she heard Alistair stirring beside her. She waited as he came to, blinking slowly as his eyes adjusted to the light. He stared at the ceiling for a bit before realizing what was going on.

"Where am I?" he finally asked.

"In the Korcari Wilds," Revan answered coolly. He violently swiveled to face her, confusion painted vibrantly on his face. "In the hut of the witch you met earlier."

"The one with the creepy daughter? The one who had the treaties?" Alistair asked.

"Yes," Revan responded.

"How…? Where's Rose?"

"Rose is fine," Revan told him. "Don't worry."

"Well, now I'm worried," he said. "Where is she?"

"She needs to sleep. We should go outside and talk," Revan suggested uncomfortably.

Alistair nodded and, slowly, rose from the bed before heading out the door obediently. Revan grabbed his armor from where Flemeth had stashed it and headed out after him. Alistair was standing with his back toward her, looking up at the hazy sky and the dark trees.

"You know, I had a dream that I was here. I didn't have any pants on. It was a really bad dream," Alistair said innocently.

"Really?" Revan feigned surprise. He didn't need to know the truth about that. "Here's your armor."

Thanking her, he took the grey iron armor and fastened it on, stretching his muscles to shake off the last vestiges of sleep. "So, how did we get here? The last thing I remember is you screaming, then the darkspawn coming up the stairs, and then pain. A lot of pain."

Revan grimaced, really uncomfortable now. She gestured for Alistair to take a seat in the now-unoccupied tree seats. Revan looked around for Flemeth, but the witch was gone. She sighed; she wasn't looking forward to telling Alistair what had happened.

"You were shot by a darkspawn, as was Rose. I held them at bay for a little bit, but there were too many of them. Then the witch came and rescued us all. She brought all of us back here and tended to your wounds. You should be thankful you're even alive," Revan told him.

His face paled a bit as the implications of what she said reached him. "And…the army?" he asked hesitantly.

Revan closed her eye and bowed her head. "I'm…so sorry."

Alistair gulped and shut his eyes tightly. "What happened?"

"I…I screamed because my mind was on the battlefield. The beacon was lit, but Loghain did not come. I learned later that he retreated, abandoning us all. King Cailan…he was killed by an ogre, which Duncan killed. But Duncan…"

Tears streamed down Alistair's face now. "Oh Maker, no," he held his head in his hands. "No, no, no…"

"…Duncan was killed. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Revan began crying, too. "I'm so, so sorry, so sorry…"

"Not Duncan! No, no, no, no, NO!" the young Warden sobbed.

Revan sat next to him, shedding her own silent tears as he bawled. They sat and shared their grief and misery for a long time. At one point Revan felt the eyes of Morrigan from a tree above them, looking down at them from the eyes of a bird. After a while, Flemeth returned but proceeded instead to the hut to take care of Rose. Finally, Alistair stopped crying and wiped the tears away from his eyes. Revan was staring ahead into the Wilds, her mind filled with the images of the horrors she had wrought.

"Are you two done sobbing like a bunch of small children?" Flemeth emerged from the hut as Morrigan snuck in. "This is no time to cry. There is a Blight going on, after all."

Alistair looked up as Revan came to. "I still have emotions, you know," she retorted. "We lost a lot of good friends in Ostagar."

Alistair began sobbing again. Revan looked empathetically at him and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. Flemeth knelt next to him.

"Young lad," she began, "they are gone. They aren't coming back, and your tears won't help them."

"I…I know," Alistair blinked away the tears unsuccessfully. "I just…"

"You must gather your strength, young one," Flemeth said wisely. "The trials to come will not be easy to face."

"Is anyone else alive? Is it just us two? Is Rose even alive, or was that just to keep me calm?" he asked desperately.

"Your friend is inside, recovering," Flemeth told him, repeating what Revan had told him earlier.

At that point, Rose emerged from the hut, unsteady but alive. Alistair's face brightened considerably at seeing her alive. She looked around, gathering her surroundings. Upon seeing them, Rose tottered towards them, Fuzzywuggins right by her side.

"See? Here is your fellow Grey Warden," Flemeth pointed out obviously as she approached. "You worry too much, young man."

"So you are alive!" Alistair said thankfully. Rose looked at him, dazed. "Thank the Maker!"

"Thanks to Morrigan's mother, more like," Rose took the other chair.

"This doesn't seem real," he continued. "If it weren't for her, we'd all be dead on top of that tower."

"Do not talk about me as if I was not here, lad," Flemeth scolded him.

Alistair looked uncomfortable. "I didn't mean…but, what do we call you? You never told us you're name."

Flemeth looked at Revan briefly before answering. "Names are pretty, but ultimately useless. They fade with time. The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose that will do."

Rose and Alistair snapped to attention, startled. "As in, the Flemeth from the legends? Daveth was right—you're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?"

Revan snickered, but didn't say anything. "And what does that mean?" Flemeth seemed annoyed. "I know a bit of magic, and it has served you all well, has it not?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" Alistair looked away ashamedly.

"Then, I suppose we should thank you," Rose said politely.

"If you know what's good for you, I suppose you should!" Flemeth stated.

"Then how can we repay you?" Rose asked.

The witch laughed. "All I wish is for you to do what you are meant to do. It has always been the Grey Wardens' duty to unite the lands against the Blight. Or did that change when I wasn't looking?"

Rose scowled. "Well, thanks to Teyrn Loghain, the land is hardly united."

"It just doesn't make any sense!" Alistair declared. "Why would he do it?"

"Now that is a good question," Flemeth smiled again. "Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can outmaneuver. Perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat."

"Or perhaps he just really hates Grey Wardens," Revan commented wryly as she recalled Duncan's memories of the surly general.

"The Archdemon," Alistair responded to Flemeth, studiously ignoring Revan's underhanded comment.

Rose thought for a second. "Then I suppose it falls to us to defeat this Archdemon."

Alistair stared at her in shock. "By ourselves?" he asked, skeptically incredulous. "No Grey Warden has ever defeated a Blight without the army of at least a half-dozen nations at his back. Not to mention, I don't know how!"

"How to kill the Archdemon, or how to raise an army? It seems to me, those are two different questions, hmm?" Flemeth commented. "Have the Wardens no allies these days?"

"I…I don't know," Alistair responded as Flemeth waited patiently for them to figure out the answer, like a teacher over her pupils. "Duncan said that the Grey Wardens of Orlais had been called…and Arl Eamon would never stand for this, surely!"

Revan stifled a giggle at his mention, but then she remembered the gravity of the situation and sobered. It really wasn't that funny, after all.

"Perhaps we should seek his aid then," Rose suggested.

"Yes, Arl Eamon wasn't at Ostagar; he still has all his men," Alistair continued, his excitement growing as he realized they had a chance after all. "And he was Cailan's uncle. I know him; he's a good man, respected in the Landsmeet. Of course! We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!"

Rose nodded at the idea. "Yes, and if we wanted to prevent Loghain from claiming the title of 'king', we would need all the support we could get at the Landsmeet. But, what happens if he doesn't give us any help? What then?"

Flemeth grinned toothily. "You have much more at your disposal than just old friends."

Alistair slapped his palm against his forehead. "Of course! The treaties! Grey Wardens can demand aid from the dwarves, the elves, mages, and other places! They're obligated to help us during a Blight!"

He and Rose seemed quite excited now. Flemeth and Revan exchanged a knowing look: youth.

"I may be old," the ancient witch began, "but dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else...this sounds like an army to me."

"So, do you think we can do it? All this?" Alistair looked from Rose and Revan and back again.

Rose pondered it. "I don't see why not. Isn't that what Grey Wardens do?"

Flemeth smiled encouragingly and asked, "So, you are set, then? Ready to be Grey Wardens?"

The young girl looked up, new hope shining in her eyes. "Yes, I believe we are. Thank you for everything, Flemeth."

"No, no, thank you. You are the Grey Wardens here, not I," Flemeth stated. "Now…before you go, there is one more thing I can offer you."

As if on cue, Morrigan emerged from the other side of the hut and approached them. "The stew is bubbling, Mother dear. Shall we be having three guests for the eve—" she looked dispassionately at Alistair, "—or none?"

"The Grey Wardens will be leaving shortly, girl, and you will be joining them," Flemeth told her.

"Such a shame—wait, what?" Morrigan looked at her mother, horrified.

"You heard me, girl," Flemeth laughed. "The last time I looked, you had ears!"

Rose smiled politely. "Thank you, but if she doesn't want to come with us—"

Flemeth glared at her. "Her magic will be useful. Even better, she knows the Wilds and how to get past the horde."

"Excuse me, but do I have no say in this?" Morrigan demanded.

"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years now," Flemeth commented. "Here's your chance. As for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives."

"You were planning this, weren't you?" Revan asked her, hidden meaning seeped in her words.

"I had the impression that you needed assistance, whatever the form," the witch glared at her.

"Not to…look a gift horse in the mouth, but…" Alistair interrupted, "won't this add to our problems? Outside of the Wilds, she's an apostate."

"So am I. Maybe not technically, but the Templars don't know that I am a Grey Warden," Revan pointed out.

Alistair seemed about to retaliate, but thought better of it. "Mother," Morrigan continued, "this is not how I wanted this. I am not even ready—"

"You must be ready, girl. Alone, these three must unite Ferelden against the darkspawn. They need you, Morrigan," her mother told her gravely. "Without you, they will surely fail, and all will perish under the Blight. Even I."

Revan caught the underlying meaning beneath the words. Flemeth didn't mean just this Blight; she meant all Blights. Revan felt like she was missing some important part of the picture.

"I…understand," Morrigan relented.

"And you, Wardens? Do you understand your responsibilities?" Flemeth asked Rose and Alistair. They nodded solemnly.

"Then allow me to gather my things," Morrigan said, turning around and heading back into the hut.

The old witch grabbed Revan with her taloned hands and dragged her aside, out of earshot. "You need to tell them," Flemeth whispered in her ear.

"Tell them what?" Revan whispered back.

"The truth. About yourself. They deserve to know," she told the Jedi.

Revan scowled. "Now?"

"No," the witch said. "Wait until you are out of the Wilds. Then tell them."

Revan and Flemeth stared at each other for several more moments before returning to the others, where Morrigan was talking to the Wardens.

"…No, I'd prefer you speak your mind," they heard Rose tell Morrigan.

"Ha ha ha!" Flemeth laughed, Revan's arm still in her grasp. "You will regret saying that!"

"Dear, sweet Mother," Morrigan glared at her, "you are so kind to cast me out like this. How fondly I shall remember this moment."

"Well, I always said, if you want something done, do it yourself, or hear about it for the next decade or two afterwards," Flemeth grinned humorously.

"I just…" Alistair turned toward Rose. "Do you really want her along because her mother says so?"

Rose raised a brow. "Flemeth had a point: we need all the help we can get."

"I…I guess you're right. The Grey Wardens have always taken allies where they could find them," he conceded.

"I am so pleased to have your approval," Morrigan stated sarcastically.

"Well, I guess we should get going then," Rose said cheerfully.

Morrigan turned back to the ancient witch. "Farewell, Mother. Do not forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned-down hut."

"Bah!" Flemeth spit. "'Tis far more likely you will return to see this entire area, along with my hut, swallowed by the Blight."

Morrigan cringed guiltily. "I…all I meant was…"

"Yes, I know," Flemeth said. "Do try to have fun, dear."

Morrigan, her face conflicted with guilt, remorse, and anger, turned away from her mother and followed Rose and Alistair as they left the Wilds. Flemeth finally released her grasp on Revan's wrist. She waved her hands over Revan's left shoulder, chanting in an ancient tongue. A burning sensation filled her upper arm, and Revan hissed in pain.

"A parting gift," Flemeth whispered to her as she lowered her hands and handed Revan a pack, with her swords strapped across it. "So you never forget."

"How could I ever?" she responded, taking the pack before jogging to catch up with the others.

The trip through the Wilds was uneventful for the most part. They walked in tense silence, eager to be rid of the oppressive mists. Morrigan flitted from the party to drawing off the darkspawn that lurked in the distance. Alistair in particular seemed perturbed, and even the courageous Fuzzywuggins seemed subdued. Rose, of course, led the party. Revan followed in the back. The forest no longer disturbed her, now that she knew some of its secrets. In fact, it had a certain quality about it that made it sort of homely. She understood why Flemeth lived here.

As soon as they emerged from the Wilds, half a day's walk to the town of Lothering, they stopped to make camp. The sun was setting in the west, leaving a lingering chill over the landscape as winter approached. Morrigan brought them a few rabbits she had killed to cook. They ate in silence until Revan remembered what the witch had told her.

She sighed, reluctantly gathering her courage. "All right. I have something to confess."

The three of them looked up, surprised at the break in the silence.

"What is it, Dragonheart?" Rose asked kindly.

"First of all, my name isn't Dragonheart," Revan confessed. "It's Revan."

"Okay. Revan," she tried out the name.

"Then…" Revan exhaled and looked to the heavens. "Oh, Mythal, how to begin?"

"How about at the beginning?" Morrigan suggested.

"Ha ha, very funny," Alistair quipped.

Revan shook her head. "No, the beginning is a good place to start.

"A few years ago, when I was an impertinent youth like you three, I was also in the middle of a war. I was hunting some spies when my ship crashed in the Amaranthine Ocean, near Gwaren, and I was rendered unconscious. I had never been to Thedas before; I didn't know its people, its culture, or its history. My mind slipped into the Fade, and I encountered a…being. It offered me a deal: free it, and in return it would share its power with me. This power would make me unstoppable; it would get me out of Thedas; it would end the war in a flash. That was all I really wanted. I'm not justifying what I did, but…I agreed to free him. He gave me just enough information, including the language, to survive in Thedas. I awoke, and set out for the Deep Roads, where…where I found Urthemiel and awoke him."

Revan paused and looked up. They were staring at her in shock, even Morrigan. They stayed silent, and she continued.

"He laughed as he awoke, telling me that I had been a fool. But he would honor our agreement. He gave me…he gave me a part of his soul. He gave me the power to turn into a dragon, like him, and to do…miraculous things. But my mind couldn't take it. I snapped, and I turned into a dragon. Somehow, I flew to another land, a civilized place far from Thedas, in another star system even, and, when I had recovered, I found that I had killed everyone on the planet. Everyone. I was horrified, and I vowed never to use that power again. It was…it was the worst mistake in my life, one that I regret every day. I don't expect any of you to forgive me; I don't expect any of you to ever trust me again. But one of the reasons I became a Grey Warden was to fix my mistake. I would do anything to take it back."

Revan looked down, ashamed. She had never told anyone that, not even Carth. Through her second sight, she saw the others exchange glances. Alistair looked mortified, but he nodded when he saw Rose's expression.

"All right," she said hoarsely.

Revan raised her eye to meet the girl's, not sure if she had heard her correctly. "What?"

"Alright," Rose repeated. "You did something…horrible. Unspeakable, even. But you aren't horrible because you did it. You've been a good friend to me, to us, and you've saved us, when you could have just as well saved yourself and left us to die. I can't forgive you for it, but...we can't…I can't hate you for what you've done."

"We all do stupid things," Alistair added. "Some, apparently more stupid than others, but…I agree with Rose. I don't like what you did…I mean, so many people have died…" Alistair choked up a bit, but recovered. "Duncan…Duncan trusted you. So, I'll trust you. For now."

Morrigan gave him an odd look. "She just told you that she was responsible for your friend's death. You're just going to forgive her?"

"What else am I going to do? Hand her over to the darkspawn? Oh, yes, that would help defeat the Blight," Alistair parried. "Giving Urthemiel a super-powerful weapon is just a brilliant idea!"

Morrigan scowled, but said nothing.

"Can you…can you hear his thoughts?" Rose asked curiously.

Revan gazed off in the distance. "Sometimes. If I really try. It's easier, now that I'm a Warden. But, I don't like doing it. The Archdemon's mind is…different from a mortal mind."

Rose thought about this. "That could be of help. It would make it easier to anticipate his attacks."

"Doesn't that mean he can see into her mind, as well?" Morrigan wondered. Rose frowned as she thought about it.

"He can," Revan said quietly. "But he doesn't know it. And I can keep him out."

The night continued on in silence. The quiet was a vow that they wouldn't speak of the subject again, not until it was necessary. The others laid out their bedrolls and turned away from the others, leaving Revan awake and staring at the sputtering fire. She took off her leather armor on her left arm and looked at the tattoos burned on her upper arm: the top the Jedi crest, and the bottom of the griffin, the symbol of the Grey Wardens. Indeed, she would never forget; she would never let herself go back to what she had once been. She would never let herself become that evil. But, as Revan curled up on her bedroll, she couldn't help but feel the seed of darkness within her, growing as its parent, the Old God Urthemiel, grew even stronger.