Even though it had stood for nearly a millennium, Ostagar was still the most impressive structure Raviathan had ever been in. The ruined old temple was crumbling at the edges, but the main structure was still strong as the rock it was build on. The wall he leaned on now was the silent witness of battles and plots lost in the echoes of time. Was the mar on stone from a blade swung during a last stand, the crash of a wayward cart, a lingering scar from magic gone astray?

His fantasies were ended by a renewed pounding in his head. The incessant bickering of the shems or a lack of sleep or hunger or stress from the battle or the coming storm or the simple fact that he missed his alienage; any of these, or all of them, could be the cause of the incessant thumping of his skull. Now that he had seen the Wardens-to-be in action, Raviathan weighed the two men.

Although Daveth had panicked at the sight of the Chasind, Raviathan opined Jory was the greater coward. Jory hadn't been raised with fear of the wildlings or witches. Between the two of them, Daveth fared better with the darkspawn, and that was the enemy they were called to fight. Jory hadn't been raised with the fear of wildlings or witches, so perhaps he hadn't seen the danger of the two apostates and only considered them weak old women.

Flemeth bothered Raviathan in a way he found hard to pinpoint. He would lay sovereigns to straw the woman wielded extremely powerful magic. The question that nagged at him was whether she was human or something else. Raviathan had no experience with an abomination, only his aunt's stories, so he couldn't be certain. She had seemed addled, but not out of control. However, there wasn't a single human who had eyes like that by birth. Flemeth was a mystery that would do him little good to contemplate. Now that Duncan knew about Raviathan's hidden magic, there might be some opportunity to study in the future. Get some books perhaps.

"Why are you bellyaching now?" Daveth glared at Jory. "Didn't you want to be a Warden? I hear over and over about your ruddy tourney."

"I have a wife is in Highever with a child on the way. If they had warned me… It just doesn't seem fair."

Raviathan had sympathy for the Jory's desire to protect his wife and unborn child. Neither he or Duncan had told him about Highever. As a very pregnant woman, she might have been spared the rape common of soldiers who had battle lust upon them, but soldiers did strange things. Raviathan had the bitter memories of a purge and what humans could do when they were freed from responsibility. If Jory found out about Highever, which would happen soon enough, would he desert? Raviathan guessed that worry was Duncan's motivation for silence. It was a calculated choice and cruel. Would Jory respect a man who would use him so?

"Warned you how? That you would fight darkspawn? Maker's arse, I didn't think you were that dim."

"More insults, is it?" Jory said, lifting his chin. The lines of his nose deepened in disgust. "You have no idea. Have you ever loved anyone? Has anyone even cared about you? Or were you a shame to your family from the beginning? No wonder you cannot conceive of what it means to protect those you love."

That statement hit Raviathan like a slap. With his head bowed, long bangs over his eyes, he hoped the others would not notice his flinch. Since his flight from Denerim, he kept his mind far from the people he left behind. Damn Jory for returning his thoughts. How was Nesiara? Had she left yet? Would she be opening a shop with Valora? Would she already be gone from Denerim, looking for a new match? There was that boy from Dragon's Peak. Maybe Ness's parents were making that other match for her. Maybe his own father or Valendrian were helping her. Raviathan hoped her new husband would be a good man. With her necklace she could name any match she wanted.

Though he had lost faith with the Chant, he still prayed to the Maker. Anything for her. Maker, let my Ness be happy. Give her security and a proper husband who will cherish and care for her as she should be cared for. She is a good woman, Maker. It was fitting to end our marriage. I understand that. Maker, please watch over her. Let her have the match she deserved in the first place.

Guilt twisted his stomach again at the thought of Shianni. Maker, watch over Shianni. Let her heal and be whole. Keep her protected as I could not. Red on white flashed in his mind, and Raviathan violently pushed the image out of his mind. His heart thudded in his chest like the death throes of a dying animal.

Would his words be heard? He prayed now because there was nothing else he could do. If it did nothing, then so be it. It didn't hurt or waste his energy to try. Maybe the Maker would hear him, maybe not. He wasn't sure the Maker heard anything anymore, but that hadn't stopped anyone from praying. It struck him as enormously petty for the Maker to turn His back on His creation. Anger he could understand, but this kind of rejection, of letting good people be hurt and damaged when they did nothing to deserve it, letting so much injustice run rampant in the world, what kind of god allowed that? The Maker was probably so distant that it didn't make a difference whether His creation followed him or not. There was a catch in his thoughts though. He was praying to a god he had little faith in. Why should the Maker ever listen to him when he didn't listen to men and women much more faithful, more devout, and especially more pure. What was his voice when compared to them?

Pure he was not. There were dozens upon dozens of elves he left back at home who could attest that. He had made his enemies, often by stealing the affections of the girls they sought, but there were others who just always seemed to take a dislike to him. While the time the girls he had entertained had been pleasant on both sides, there were often hurt feelings when it was clear he did not have more than a passing interest. How painful that must have been for them had only recently occurred to him. There were the more obvious mistakes that had really hurt people, the ones that continued to haunt him, but the casual ones were still cruel. He had made their hearts darker, more bitter. He was sure that most would get over it and recognize him for the idiot he was, at least he hoped they would, but there were a few that would really hurt for years.

Another elf, dead eyes staring at the ceiling as her body was violated, hovered in his mind. The last time those eyes were turned to him, they were bitter with rejection. Just because the damage he had wrought was unintentional didn't make it any less. He never wanted to be the instigator of suffering. Vaughan knew he was hurting people and didn't care. At the memory Raviathan wanted to kill him all over again. Rage would flare, and he could feel the harsh beating of his heart every time he thought of the bastard.

Following that was an ever present guilt that wormed in his mind as Raviathan thought about the damage he had caused his fellow elves, but that was ended. Some were sorry to see him go, but there were others glad that the trouble maker was finally out of their lives. Those elves had made him feel bitter at first, a rejection all to close to what Nola felt. Now that he was away from the alienage, all the way on the other side of the country, he was ready to admit that they had been right. For the damage he had caused the alienage, he should have been exiled years ago.

"And what would you give to see that pretty wife of yours safe?" Daveth shot back. "Run from the horde here? Strap a board to your back doesn't give you a spine."

"Ha! That's a funny considering how yellow you turned around wildlings. You talk of desertion to me?"

That damn templar just stood there and watched them fight. Damn all these loud shems. Raviathan wanted either quiet to contemplate or be done with this and find a meal and a willing woman. He didn't move, save a flicker of his eyes to glare at the shems through his bangs. "Every man fears," Raviathan said, his voice quiet yet catching their attention. "Daveth continued through his fear."

That gave them pause for a moment. The moment was all too short for Raviathan's tastes. Jory's thin lips grew thinner. "Why am I the coward here? Both of you hesitated at the darkspawn or the wildlings. I did neither."

"Your cowardice or courage is not the question," Raviathan said in the same calm voice. "Your loyalties seem rather divided at the moment." Why hadn't Duncan told Jory that his life with his family was over? What was it about this final ritual that made being a Grey Warden so permanent? There were other knight orders that held loyalty as a core principle, yet they were allowed families. Raviathan had read about them on the journey here. Why were the Wardens different?

Red blotches mottled Jory's face. "I'm not allowed to worry for my wife and child during a Blight?"

Emotions Raviathan couldn't name boiled in him. How he hated Jory constantly going on about his wife and child, wife and child, wife and child. To the Abyss with your wife and child! You aren't allowed that happiness any more than me, you great bloody idiot. Neither of us have wives and never will again. You will never find comfort with her, see her soft in sleep in the morning, make her laugh, feel her warmth, see her hold her child. The rest of our lives we can only hope for a few lost hours of pleasure with random women. Your wife and child may already be gone from this world.

Raviathan closed his eyes. With a supreme effort, he reined his temper back in. What Jory would do when he found out about Howe's takeover of Highever? Mostly likely he would desert the instant he had a chance. Raviathan said, "The darkspawn threaten everyone."

"See that," said Daveth with vindication. "Maybe you'll die. Maybe we'll all die. If no one stops the Blight, we'll all die for sure."

Jory paced, his temper close to breaking. "Why all these secrets?"

"The Wardens do what they must." Raviathan closed his eyes to rest. Please, for love of the Maker, let these shems be silent.

Ness. Please be safe.

Red on white.

Fire.

Never was Raviathan more grateful for a break from his intrusive thoughts as when Duncan walked up carrying a large silver goblet. "At last we come to the Joining. The Grey Wardens were founded during the First Blight when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. Only with great sacrifice do we have any hope against the darkspawn. The three of you have been tested, have fought as brothers in arms. It is time for you to Join, to be brothers in blood, to take your place in a long line of men and women who gave their lives before you. From the first, Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood thus mastering the taint set upon the world."

Raviathan couldn't take his eyes away from the goblet filled with black liquid. Oh Maker no. He isn't telling us we have to… though he had suspected… but it was too repellent.

Jory stuttered, his eyes showing too much white, "W-we're going to d-drink the blood of those…those creatures?" For once, Raviathan was in agreement.

Duncan continued unperturbed by Jory's fear, his voice stern. There would be no argument. "As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you." Alistair and Duncan had both done that? Duncan had the mettle of a man who would do what was necessary, but Alistair? "This is the source of our power and the only possibility for victory."

Alistair piped up, "Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the Archdemon."

Those words echoed, 'survive the Joining.' A quick glance at Daveth and Jory showed both men had caught the implications of those words. Daveth's tongue flicked out to lick his lips, a tremor starting in his hands. Jory tuned a sickly shade and looked ready to empty his stomach.

Raviathan's mind whirled in fragmented thoughts. Duncan had said often, Grey Wardens do what they must. He had just said that. Drink darkspawn blood? Raviathan had accepted the conscription to forgo torture and a hanging. Was it worth it? With the Grey Wardens he would be free from templars. The other Wardens had survived. Alistair and Duncan had not turned into monsters. Raviathan had already forfeited his life when he went after Vaughan. Was this any different? A delayed hanging?

Duncan watched all their reactions with calm resolve. So this was the secret he had kept. Raviathan saw sorrow in the old warrior, but that wouldn't stop Duncan from doing what he thought necessary. Can I do this? Raviathan had put his life in Duncan's hands since Denerim. Duncan was his friend and mentor. He couldn't betray the old warrior.

Duncan's solemn voice filled Raviathan's ears as the ancient ceremony continued. "We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the First. Alistair, if you would."

Alistair bent his head to intone the sacred words, "Join us brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us in the duty that cannot be forsworn. And if you should perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day, we shall join you." The words burned into Raviathan's mind. His mother had almost done this. Had she made a different choice, these words would have been hers.

Darkspawn blood. Could he do it? Run? Duncan turned then, handing the chalice to the first initiate. "Daveth. Step forward."

The thief, for all his fear of witches and the cautious sneaking about, took the chalice without hesitation. He looked into the potion's depths for a second before putting the chalice to his lips to drink. He handed the chalice back to Duncan with a grimace but otherwise seemed fine. Not so bad. Raviathan felt a sense of relief. It was disgusting, but he could do that.

A second later Daveth staggered, grasping his head in pain. A choked gurgle tore from his throat. It sounded like he had swallowed his own tongue as he tried to scream. His balance gone, Daveth swayed then jerked up suddenly. His eyes had rolled back leaving only blind white orbs that glowed in the darkened temple ruin.

Jory backed away, "Maker's breath!" Raviathan knew Jory would go for his sword rather than take the potion. The knight would run into the night if he could.

"I am sorry, Daveth," Duncan said though the man was already too far gone. Daveth convulsed, clutching at his throat as he fell. Even his scream was taken away as a guttural hiss replaced it. The man fell to his knees then was dead. His body collapsed with a few twitches before it stilled. Without any hesitation, without so much as a pause, Duncan turned to the next candidate. "Step forward, Jory."

The warrior reached for his sword sputtering, "No. My wife. A child."

"There is no turning back." The stern resolution in Duncan's face would take no excuse. Raviathan had never been afraid of Duncan, but he was then. He watched frozen in horror. Would Duncan turn on him as well? Duncan's words came back, the Grey Wardens do what they must.

"Had I known!" Jory cried in panic. "No! You ask too much." He backed away with his sword before him. "There is no glory in this!"

Duncan's knife was out. Jory's first swing came in high, but Duncan deflected it. Duncan parried Jory's second attack swinging the warrior's blade wide. Before Jory could muster a defense, Duncan's curved blade sliced deep into the warrior's belly. A disconnected part of Raviathan's mind thought, angled up to puncture his lungs. He'll be dead soon. Blood spurted out as Jory gave a last wet cry. His eyes went wide in pain. ""I am sorry," said Duncan as he held Jory's dying body. The blade exited, and Duncan stepped away as Jory's life spilled out and he fell.

The Grey Wardens do what they must, echoed in Raviathan's dazed mind. Duncan continued, "Rav. It is your turn."

Only an hour ago Raviathan had been tracing about the Wilds with these two men. They weren't strangers. They didn't do anything to deserve their deaths.

Raviathan hadn't even realized he stepped back. Duncan's large dark form loomed over him with the shining silver chalice in hand. More bloody death! His kin had been killed, burned or cut down, and for no reason. He was far past the point of saying life isn't fair, but the trivial nature of life, how hard it was to bring a living thing into this world, the time and effort it took to raise a child, all of the experiences, love and pain, and in the end, it meant nothing. It shouldn't be this way. Life shouldn't be trivial.

Duncan pressed hand to Raviathan's cheek. When Raviathan looked up, he wasn't sure if he should feel betrayed or not. The sorrow from before was back in his mentor's face, but it did not dim the human's resolve. "Rav," he said softly. "The Blight has to be stopped. This is the only way. If not this, then thousands will die."

Raviathan took the chalice offered to him with numb fingers. Life wasn't trivial.

"This is how it must be." Duncan lowered his hand. "For the greater good."

Here it is. The silver chalice that held darkspawn blood. Perhaps his life. He stared at the contents, black as sin. Drink this? The choice was now more real than ever. It never had been a choice though. The minute Duncan saw him in the alienage, his choice was gone.

The Grey Wardens do what they must.

His marriage had been over then, before Vaughan had come. Dreams of what his life could have been, the path he could have taken, it was all dreams.

The Grey Wardens do what they must.

Only his mother had a choice. She had chosen a quiet life in the alienage over becoming a Grey Warden. The last time he saw her alive, she had been lying in the muddy street, gutted and bleeding out. The pain he had felt, not knowing how to heal her, unable to protect her, had been a wound he never forgot. But even as the light left her mermaid eyes, she had smiled at him. 'You were worth it, my son.' That had been her choice.

He drank.

It tasted of burning tar and acidic bile. He could feel it crawling like a living thing down his throat. It was in him. He had thought himself impure for his actions back at the alienage, the careless use of his body. How foolish he had been. How young and naïve. The taint crawled like a rat scrabbling down his throat into his body. Like a panicked rabbit it burrowed with claws ripping, tearing his vulnerable flesh into bloody ribbons. Dimly he heard Duncan's voice from far away, ""From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden."

He would have cried for the loss of his innocence when the ruined temple disappeared before him. Duncan and Alistair were gone.

~o~O~o~

The sky was dark and tinged with a sickly green of the Fade. Below him the ground was seething, squirming as if it were made of black maggots. He could hear the wet sucking of thousands of tiny mouths biting his naked feet. Every step squished the writhing things, their blood like acid stinging his open wounds. They crawled up his legs, falling and climbing higher, stripping his flesh on the way. The sight made him want to retch.

Growls and hisses were close, hiding just behind the gloom and shadows. Moving, darting, just out of sight. The shrieks. They were waiting for him. An army watching him, planning.

Dark clouds boiled overhead, spreading like a shroud over him, taking the little light left. He was surrounded. He could feel them coming at him from the corner of his eyes, could feel them from behind, but every way he turned was only darkness and shifting shadow. His back itched with the weight of their eyes waiting for him, ready to pounce. He was outnumbered. Too many, too strong. It would take so little to destroy him.

There was no Maker here. There was no one to call out to for help. No prayers, no light. They truly had been forsaken to have their own sin lay waste to what was left in the world.

Despair gripped him in an invisible hand. He couldn't fight this. Sin was eating him alive.

He was alone, naked and shivering, utterly forgotten.

No escape. No hope. Alone. Weak. Helpless.

Without warning a scream slammed through him. He felt like glass that would shatter. His bones vibrated with the force. All he knew was pain, pain so heavy it forced out all thoughts other than blinding, agonizing pain. He wanted to cry but could not. Not allowed to scream.

A long serpentine neck rose before him. A dragon? No dragon ever looked like that. The sin he had drunk was given form in the monster before him. The sin of the world was in him now. No abstract concepts or petty notions of right and wrong. Sin was real, a physical thing. It looked at him, straight into him. It was inside him and there before him at once. It hated him and called to him. The tainted god, and there was no doubt now that this was a god, powerful and terrible, stood colossal over all that ever was.

How could he ever hope to challenge this thing? It was his own despair made flesh. Shame and sin and evil. There would never be an escape. The Sin of the World. He was less than weak. He was nothing. The Sin of the World screamed, shattering him.

~o~O~o~

"Well," said Alistair regretfully, "at least one survived." The way Duncan had touched the elf… He had never seen the man act like that before. Just what was Rav to him? What had he done to earn such affection?

Duncan sighed. It was an ugly business, but at least his prayers to the Maker were answered. Raviathan would live. Duncan wondered how betrayed the elf would feel. "We don't have much time. Let's move them to the pyre." Alistair nodded as they stripped Daveth's weapons and pockets. When finished Alistair took the ankles while Duncan hoisted the body by the arms. As they walked to the nearby fire, now a funeral pyre, Duncan said, "Tell me about Rav. How did he handle the Wilds?"

"Well. For the most part he's wary in battle movements but, um, incautious. At times? He did most of the coordination. Kept me and Jory back while he and Daveth took out two wolf packs and a few darkspawn groups with a bow."

"Had you hang back? Who led?" asked Duncan.

"He did. Jory was waffling a bit, nervous about the darkspawn. Daveth had more backbone until we met the witch, but he wasn't giving any orders. Rav stepped up at once."

"Did he show much fear?"

Alistair squinted as he thought. "Not really. Almost none. At lot less than I did when I first saw darkspawn. He doesn't back down from a fight." He stopped as they swung the body up on the pyre then turned back to get Jory. "Good in a skirmish. Decent fighter. Quick." Alistair scratched his head. "Observant too. He found this odd Chasind book and was able to talk to them with a flute." Alistair chuckled at Duncan's look. ""Code of some sort he figured out. He also warned us when there were darkspawn hiding in the shadows."

After removing Jory's knife and coin pouch, they picked him up. "What do you think about him personally?"

Alistair frowned. "Don't really know yet. He seems thoughtful. Quiet sort. Tried to keep the peace, I suppose. I… well, he got us through some sketchy situations, but I'm not sure I trust his judgment." Alistair said with his brow creased, "He got along with the witches easily enough. The young one liked him, and the old one thought he was smart."

"You are not a templar anymore, Alistair. Apostates are welcome among us."

"I know, I know. I would have handled things differently. But his way worked. We got the treaties."

They tossed up the second corpse. Duncan bent his head as Alistair said a prayer to the Maker to watch over the spirits of the fallen. Out of the three, the knight was the only one who volunteered. Duncan reflected on the irony of that. They left the pyre, and Duncan felt the back of Raviathan's head to see if there would be a bump. Satisfied there wasn't much damage, he handed Alistair a pendant. "How did he treat the witches?"

Alistair shrugged as he took the chalice and a prepared pendant with a vial embedded inside. "He was polite. I don't think he trusts them any more than I do, but he was willing to talk with them."

Duncan opened his mouth to continue when they noticed the elf stirring. The old Warden knelt by the elf with Alistair standing close by. Raviathan's eyes fluttered open but not yet focusing. Duncan said, "It is finished. You are now a Grey Warden."

"Welcome, brother."

Raviathan slowly got up with Duncan's assistance then rubbed the back of his head where it had banged on the stone floor. Duncan asked, "How do you feel?"

"I…I'm fine." Yeah right, thought Alistair. They both knew, well now all three of them knew just how painful the Joining was. Raviathan searched the temple floor, his eyes settling on the pool of blood. "Was there no talking to Jory?"

Duncan's face filled with sorrow. "Jory was warned there was no turning back. His panic risked all our lives. I took no pleasure in ending his life or watching Daveth die as he did. The sacrifices of many lives must be made, as you know."

With relief Raviathan heard his mentor's patient voice, grateful to see the mentor he had come to know after that cold resolution had overtaken the warrior. Comforting though it was, Raviathan would never forget that other Duncan who would carry out his duty above all other considerations. In that moment, he had seen Duncan's full nature. His mentor was naturally given to kindness, to protecting the weak, but that wasn't who he was at the core. It had frightened Raviathan to see that side, but it was reassuring as well. The Grey Wardens did what they must. More than the Maker, that was something he could trust in. It was real.

"Did you have dreams? I had terrible dreams after my Joining."

Raviathan glanced at Alistair uncomfortably, not quite ready to chance a nod with his aching head. "Yes."

"Such dreams come when you begin to sense the darkspawn. That and many other things can be explained in the months to come. I can finally answer some of your questions," Duncan added with a bit of humor. Raviathan managed a weak smile. In truth, Raviathan felt like he was in mourning. Part of him was on that pyre.

Alistair said, "Before I forget, there is one last part to your Joining. We take some of that blood and put it into a pendant. Something to remind us of those who didn't make it this far." He placed a little engraved vial into Raviathan's outstretched hand.

"Take some time," said Duncan. "When you're ready, I would like you to accompany me to a meeting with the king. Alistair, let the rest of the Wardens know what happened tonight then meet me at the fire pit."

"Of course, Duncan," Alistair said. He gave a last look at the two then left.

A meeting with the king? That was unexpected, Raviathan thought numbly. The humiliation he had felt before was a distant nothing. How petty that had been. After the Sin of the World breaks your soul apart, what was a meeting with the King? "What kind of meeting?"

"Strategy for the upcoming battle against the darkspawn," Duncan responded. "You did impress him earlier."

Raviathan frowned still reeling from the ritual. A little tendril of his magic went to work on healing the bump to his skull. "I thought he was mocking me."

Now that they were alone again, Duncan laid an arm along his charge's shoulders. Raviathan closed his eyes feeling as weak and shaky as a newborn. For now, it was just good to rest. "No, Rav," Duncan said softly.

Raviathan leaned in for the comfort of Duncan's solid body. "Your dreams. It's the Archdemon."

"Yes. Now you understand." Duncan squeezed him tight. "I wish I didn't have to do that to you, but there aren't enough people like you in this world. You're too vital. Now more than ever."

He was too far gone to cry, but he mourned his innocence. "I don't know what I can do. I've never felt more helpless in my life. Not even when I watched my mother die."

"You're stronger than you know, my boy. Every night I prayed that you would survive. Every night, Rav. I watched you from the moment we met, and every hour we were together, I was more sure that I had made the right decision."

Unable to respond to the overwhelming faith the human had in him, Raviathan lightly punched Duncan. "You just like having someone to warm your bed."

"Well of course. Why else would I keep you around?"

Raviathan looked up to see Duncan's white smile in the shadowed face. "I knew there had to be a practical reason in there somewhere. I'm just too pretty for you to resist."

That earned a chuckle. He rubbed Raviathan's back, regretting that there would be no sleep tonight. When the nightmares started again, he never thought he'd look forward to sleep again. Would his talisman against the nightmares still work now that Raviathan had taken in the taint? "Are you ready to go to the meeting?"

"Not yet. I want to take a moment to get my thoughts together."

"I know you've had a long day, but we must press on. We must always press forward."

Raviathan let out a long sigh. "I know. I just need a moment. Besides, I have a few things I want to take care of first."

"Oh? What have you been busy doing? Other than the soldiers that is."

Raviathan looked up in surprise. "You know?"

Duncan laughed. "Word has gotten around, yes."

"Maybe that's why Cailan is so impressed."

"Just remember whose bed mate you are."

Weak and raw as he was, Raviathan laughed. "Since I'm a full Grey Warden now, I should celebrate by getting a proper backpack instead of using a pillow sack." There's that mabari, and if that that tranquil is gone, maybe I can get to the stash he protected.

"Ah. Quite right. Then I hope to see you soon. The meeting is to the west, down the stairs."

The little healing magic had fixed Raviathan's headache, so he nodded in assent.

Though the elf was exhausted, Duncan knew there would be little respite for him. Most Grey Wardens had at least a few days to recover from the Joining if not a week. A great deal more that was asked from this elf from the start. However, Raviathan wouldn't be the first put upon Grey Warden in the many years of blight wars, wars that had sacrificed countless numbers of the Grey, and he wouldn't be the last. Duncan squeezed his shoulder and left for the meeting.

Raviathan watched the old warrior go. Once alone the full weight of the ritual fell on him. Raviathan sat with his back against the stone wall with his head in hands. What have I done?

He had always taken care of his body, exercised and stayed fit. For years he had studied the body and knew how to care for most problems. Though sometimes emotionally hurtful, he thought of sex as an essentially healthy activity. Now with the blackness inside him, he realized he had always thought of his body as a temple, something to be cared for and kept clean. Now it was desecrated. He had never felt so dirty in his life now that there was living sin inside him. It was alive. It crawled around his innards like a ball of worms. It made him sick knowing that the sin would be absorbed, carried through his blood, become fully part of him.

A Grey Warden. The words settled into his mind as the sin settled into his body. Raviathan smiled in cold victory as he sat in the shadows of the temple. Never again would he need to fear the templars. Never again would he need to bow his head as some lowly elf to be spat upon by shemlens. There would be no more working at the docks, no furtive life as a servant.

He examined the pendant in his hand. The casing looked like scrimshaw. It was rather plain but solid, just simple banding for the sealed vial within. Sometimes victory was cold. He had a new life. Not one of his choosing, but a new life that held promise. The sick feeling would go away, he was sure. He rolled the pendant between his fingers.

In one moment Duncan had shown him what it meant to be a Grey Warden. It had been an epiphany. A cord inside Raviathan's soul came to life and resonated to the resolution he had seen. The Grey Wardens do what they must. They protected the weak when they could; they sacrificed when sacrifice was necessary. Whatever it took, they had a purpose that was above all other considerations. He was free from the templars for one reason—because he served the greater good. His mother had trained him, and he had taken the path that she had forgone. Raviathan placed the cord of the pendant around his neck.

I am a Grey Warden.