Magpie was dead. She'd lost friends before, and packmates. But he'd been the first lost under her command. The Dalish man had come to them all the way from the forests of Orlais. He'd been eager to join, and proud to serve. Four years, he'd been her packmate. She was going to tear that mage's throat out.

They'd taken her mate's leg, when they'd locked them in the cell. Without it, her mate would need assistance to move with any sort of speed. She glanced at Flamekeeper. His eyes were on the risen corpses that had been set to guard them, and his face was filled with sorrow. She moved to sit next to him.

He pointed at one, the templar breastplate recognizable. "Vernon," he said. "He and I trained together, back before either of us had taken our vows." He gestured at another. "Jasper. I... one of the reasons I liked Orliv so much is he reminded me of Jasper. A light heart, keeping the darkness from the rest of us."

Skyhunter narrowed her eyes. "The guards... were your friends?"

"And to escape, I must be willing to kill them again. Another cruel jest."

She nodded, then looked up as the dead parted, allowing someone through. Darius was carrying a tray. He unlocked the cell door, and entered. As soon as he had set the tray down, she moved, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him up against the wall. Flamekeeper kicked the cell door closed and grabbed the keys, preventing the corpses from entering.

"I was bringing food..." Darius choked out.

"We do not want food," Skyhunter said. She disarmed him, tossing the sword to her mate. Then she tossed him rather casually at the Messenger's feet. The darkspawn brought his foot down on Darius's arm, pinning the man to the floor. "We want answers."

"I can't..." The Messenger shifted more of his weight onto the foot pinning the man in response to the protest, eliciting a cry of pain.

"Darius," Flamekeeper knelt next to him. "You saw the men guarding us. Our friends."

The younger man nodded desperately. "She brought them back. And when she's unlocked it, she'll bring them all the way. She promised."

"Are you insane?" Flamekeeper asked. "Her promises. She promised not to harm our friend only moments before she murdered him."

"She promised only that the men wouldn't hurt him. She never..." Darius cried out again as the Messenger increased his weight again. "She hates the templars. And the Wardens."

"Why?" her mate asked.

"She was close, once. But the templars took her away before she could finish." He shook his head. "She escaped them, but she had to leave him behind. By the time she was able to come back, it was too late. The Wardens had stolen him."

"Him?"

"Her brother."

Skyhunter narrowed her eyes. "You told us you were her brother."

"I am."

"He's not," Flamekeeper said.

"That's obvious," Skyhunter said, poking the captive in the ear.

"I am her brother," Darius said.

"Darius, look at me." Flamekeeper stared at the younger man. Slowly, Darius met his eyes. "Who am I?"

"My uncle." He furrowed his brow. "My mother is your sister."

"I knew your father, yes?"

"Yes."

"He was also a templar, yes?"

Darius blinked. "Yes." He blinked again. "He died. A blood mage... and..."

"And I brought you and your mother to Lake Calenhad, yes?"

"Yes. You took care of us."

"And your mother never remarried, yes?"

"Yes. She loved him too much too..."

"So how can this elf be your sister?"

"She... she's my sister." The young man was shaking. "She's my sister."

"He believes this because of blood magic?" Skyhunter asked.

"Yes." Flamekeeper shook his head. "Though I wonder as to why she'd put this into his head." He looked at the young man again. "Darius, who am I?"

"My uncle. Emory."

"What is she trying to do?"

"She needs the abominations. And she needs control. She's had success with the control."

"Success. You?"

"Yes." Darius actually smiled proudly. "She needs stable abominations under her control, so she can use them to unlock it."

"Use them?"

"The ritual. Their blood."

"What is she trying to unlock?"

Darius shook his head. "I don't know."

Skyhunter frowned, then glanced at Flamekeeper. "Is he an abomination?"

"If he were, we'd be in serious trouble," Flamekeeper said. "No. I do not believe he is. The demon would have defended itself."

She held out her hand, and her mate handed her the sword. "Messenger, keep a grip on him. We are getting out of here."

Flamekeeper stood at the door to the cell, and nodded to her.

#

Emory's face was grim. Keenan couldn't blame the man. They recovered most of their belongings, and Skyhunter helped him replace the leg.

Through the corridor they heard the sound of rhythmic chanting. He turned to their prisoner. "What is going on?"

"She has begun the ritual."

"We need to stop her," Skyhunter said.

Emory glanced through the door. He sighed. "They seem to have realized our escape. There are many more of the corpses." He strapped his shield to his arm. "You will have to hurry."

"Emory?" Keenan asked.

"We are pressed for time," Emory replied. "This is a natural chokepoint. I can hold them here, keep them from coming up behind you."

Keenan started to protest when he heard the Messenger let out a grunting sound. He turned to see Darius's back as the young man fled down one of the corridors. The Messenger started to give chase, and Keenan called him back. "No. We've got a more important problem." He glanced at Emory. "Good luck."

"It has been an honor," the man replied.

#

"Two corridors..." Her mate glanced from one to the other.

The Messenger growled. "I will go this way. You will be going the other. We will kill the mage. We will be avenging my friend."

"Yes," Skyhunter said. "We will."

They'd made it to the end of the corridor when suddenly a glyph glowed around them, and the world seemed to shift.

#

Keenan saw nearly two dozen cultists. On the dais stood the mage, and behind her, the massive form of a pride demon. The mage laughed. "Do you really think you can fight me?" She held an orb out in front of her. It seemed to glow with an eerie green light. "I've already won. What do I need to fear from Wardens?"

He started to take a step forward, then blinked and looked down. Two legs. He had two legs. Which meant... this wasn't real. He looked back at her, and then laughed. "Nothing."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"It's not the warden you need to fear, witch." He grinned broadly. "It's the wolf." He hit the ground as nearly eight feet of solid wolf went for the demon's throat.

#

More of the corpses approached. Their numbers seemed endless, and slowly they forced him away from the first chokepoint. He sighed as he saw Darius walking towards him.

"Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter." Emory set his blade and shield.

Darius stepped towards him, his own and sword and shield set. He met Emory's eyes. And then he spoke, his voice slowly growing in strength. "Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just." He turned, stepping backwards to stand at Emory's side.

Their voices rose together as the creatures came. "Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood, the Maker's will is written."

#

Skyhunter stood, then offered her mate a hand back to his feet. Only a few of the cultists stirred. The mage, however, had fled as soon as she'd attacked.

Her mate shook his head. "Taking a werewolf into the Fade. Good to know she's not as smart as she thinks she is."

"I am going to shove that orb down her throat."

"Maker, I love you, woman."

They headed after the elf.

#

They ran up a flight of stairs, and emerged onto the heights. One of the cultist mages aimed a spell at them, and her mate blocked it with his shield. Skyhunter leaped forward, and caught the mage by the throat. She held him over the side.

The mage sneered at her. "If you know what is good for you, you'll let me go."

She did. So she did.

Her mate looked over the side of the ramparts at where the mage was splattered. "He may have chosen his words poorly."

Skyhunter growled with satisfaction. "Let's go find the elven witch."

#

The air itself seemed electrified. The elven mage was laughing. "It's not too late for you to both take a knee." She glanced at Skyhunter. "I could give the wolf back to you. Give your man back his leg."

Skyhunter growled. "Rather just kill you."

The mage held up the orb. "You're a little late for that." She smiled. "I would have brought my knowledge to the Dalish, but they refused me. Pushed me aside. I would have led them to glory, reclaimed the days of Arlathan."

"Why are you doing this?" Her mate asked. "Why any of it?" He glanced at Skyhunter, and she nodded. Slowly, she began circling to the left, as he moved right. If they could keep her talking, keep her off balance, maybe they had a chance. "Why Darius?"

"My new brother?" She giggled. "Why not? I had a brother, once, before the Wardens took him from me. I wanted that bond again. He killed three templars for me, once. A mere child. All because they threatened his sister." Her eyes were starting to take on a green glow. "Fitting, I suppose, that the final sacrifices will be Wardens." She held up the orb, and started to point her staff at her mate.

Skyhunter called out. "Who are you?"

The mage turned towards her. "I am Varla. And soon, I will be the new Witch of the Wilds." She held up the orb, and started to point the staff at Skyhunter.

"What is it you want?" Her mate asked.

The mage turned back towards him. "I want... enough. Your petty distractions will not stop me." She held up the orb again.

And the Messenger's arrow shot it out of her hand.

#

Keenan shielded his eyes as the mage started to scream. Her entire body seemed to shudder. Green light seemed to expand out from her as she wailed in agony. Something was happening. Something was coming through. He reached a hand into his belt pouch, and pulled out one of Dworkin's creations. The fuse was damaged. Barely any of it remained.

He looked across at where Skyhunter stood. His beautiful wolf-woman. He saw her start to shake her head, saw the look of fear on her face. Then he struck the match.

In death, sacrifice.

#

She was sitting when the Messenger reached her, staring at the remains of the stone tower that had buried whatever it had been the mage was trying to summon. Buried the mage. Buried her mate.

The rest of the ruins were still collapsing. Flamekeeper had not emerged from the tunnels. She did not think that he would. The Messenger grabbed her arm. "We must be going."

For a moment, she considered pulling free. Staying. And then she was ashamed of herself. She was a Warden. She rose, and grabbed the orb from where it had rolled.

And she and the Messenger walked away as the ancient ruins collapsed behind them.