Authors Note: As always, I apologize, busy writer and beta-reader are busy. As always, thanks to Princess_Fawna for reading the story and making sure all the dots connect and everything is readable. Things are getting pretty intense, and we meet some familiar characters here. Hope you enjoy it, and as always, please read and review.

Chapter 15

No traveler to the Fade can fail to spot the Black City. It is one of the few constants of that ever-changing place. No matter where one might be, the city is visible. (Always far off, for it seems that the only rule of geography in the Fade is that all points are equidistant from the Black City.)

- From Beyond the Veil: Spirits and Demons

It was like walking through water. Everything looked slightly blurred, yet it looked crystal clear. It was like she had been awake for a few days straight. She became ultra aware of everything, yet nothing seemed like it quite connected. If it weren't the hand she held, she might have gone mad. It wasn't like this before, but before she had been sleeping rather than physically stepping into the realm of dreams.

The land was different too. It wasn't a mass of broken islands of twisted land. There was only a long road that extended into the distance, straight to the heart of the black mass of spires. Alistair whistled, taking a few steps back and glancing over at their tiny doorway from the waking world.

"Long walk. Nice view. This is just what I wanted when out adventuring, you know, the bleak landscapes of inevitable doom. My dear, you know me too well."

Sylrien grinned. "You know it. I'd hate for you to find it dull, Alistair. I know how much you dislike quiet nights by the campfire with a good meal in your stomach. I'd never subject you to that."

He smirked at her, shaking his head as she cracked her neck.
"Well my king, shall we?"

"So soon to abandon me? Were you not the one that extolled the virtues of loyalty to me so long ago?"
Another voice chimed in, followed by sure, even steps. She felt a hand on her shoulder and she sighed in relief.

"Zevran....You came. I mean, I knew you would but there was still-"

"Danger? Woman, there is always danger with you around. One of the many reasons I enjoy your company." The elf stepped from behind her, smiling slightly. Sylrien blinked several times, rubbing her head. This hyper-awareness was starting to cause her nerves to fray and somewhere in the back of her head to throb. Zevran's smile faded as he saw her grimace.

"What, what is it?"

Both men looked at her with concern.

"I...I do not know. Do you feel it too, Alistair?"
He shook his head, "It feels like I'm one drink away from tipsy...but other wise I'm fine."
She grimaced. Because you are still fully Tainted, and Zevran is here in a dream. I should have known. Alistair had begun to move towards her, "If we need to go back-"

"No. We need to move on. The sooner we get this done, the sooner it won't be a problem. We can't waste time. Just....just take the front. Lead. I'll be fine." Needles were beginning to prick at the sides of her skull. Sylrien took a deep breath and stepped forward. Focus. Focus.

They walked. And walked. And walked. But no matter how long they walked, it seemed that the Black City never got any closer though the window to the waking world had long since disappeared behind them. Zevran and Alistair both tried to tell stories and banter, but Sylrien would hush them, and beg for them to keep their voices down. The needles in her mind had since turned into hammers wielded by angry Dwarven eunuchs. She wasn't quite sure if Dwarves even had eunuchs, but...Aggh! They were very angry. Her pride kept her upright though, and she walked behind the two men. It seemed like hours...There were no signs of spirits, demonic or otherwise. There was no motion except for the shifting planes of 'sky' above them.

Then there was a dark blur. Two dark blurs. The trio instantly stopped as these flashes of color began to encircle them. Alistair and Zevran already had blades unsheathed, back to back. Sylrien was slower. With the pounding in her skull, her reflexes were dulled, her feet did not move as quickly as she wanted them to. She just had to take one...more...step...

Alistair reached to his hand to grab hers, to yank her into the protection of the triangle...

Then something pulled her back, something gripped her by the shoulder and she felt...steel? Steel at her neck? Demons did not...and Darkspawn would not hesitate. Both Zevran and Alistair darted towards her, only to be halted by a voice behind them.

"Whoever you are, whatever kind of spirits you may be, stop before we end your friend."

There was a man - there was an elf - wielding a bow, the arrow pulled taut and tight, aimed at the human. His eyes were a bright, clear grey and his hair was a sun-stained, flaxen blond. His companion was a woman; her face was obscured by a heavy curtain of hair the color of rich earth. Anything else the elf said was lost to Sylrien's ears. The hammering, the pounding was deafening. She couldn't take much more of it, it was all just...

Dark.

Sadbh felt the girl she held against her turn into dead weight. "Tamlen!" She shouted as the figure crumpled and fell to the 'floor'. The strange elf and human began to move toward her and the female elf, but Tamlen kept his arrow trained on them, circling them till he was by Sadbh's side. "What is it, lethallin?"

"She's sick. Sick like we are. I don't know how she thought she could step through the mirror unaided..."

"We're Grey Wardens, she and I. The same Taint this place has runs through our veins" The human cut through her words, tense and ready to spring forward. Tamlen did not ease up on the grip of the bow.

"Quiet, shem'len. You want her to live, you do as we say."

Meanwhile, Sadbh had taken out a dagger, cutting into her arm. The blood ran like a thin stream down her forearm. She dribbled it over the woman's lips. She was an elf, and she wore the finest Dalish armor Sadbh had ever seen. Her face though, bore no mark of the Dalish. There was no vallaslin dedicating her to any particular god. The other elf had markings on his face, but she did not recognize them. There was something smeared on his chest, something faintly familiar.

Then as the first drops of blood splattered onto the lips of the unconscious woman, the blond elf darted forward. Tamlen fired the arrow, missing the elf only by a sliver of an inch. The darker elf threw his weight against Tamlen. Sadbh cried out as the two crashed to the ground, the woman in her lap stirring slightly. With Tamlen distracted, the human moved toward Sadbh, but she was a bit quicker on her feet than most.

"Stop!" She cried out, the dagger that had cut her arm now pressed against the woman's throat. "Or I will end your woman. Stop it now."

The girl soon woke, fluttering her eyes open as the blond elf froze, allowing Tamlen to quickly regain the upper hand.

"Abelas!" The woman cried, relaxing against Sadbh. "Abelas, hahren! We mean no harm! We....we are here with the blessing of the Mahariel clan!"

Now it was time for Sadbh and Tamlen to be surprised. The dagger dropped from her hand as the woman scrambled over to her companions, leaning on the heavily armored human. Though shocked, Sadbh and Tamlen quickly restrung arrows to their bows, pointing them in the direction of the party. "You lie!" Sadbh spat, stepping slightly forward. "You are not Dalish, flat-ear! Do not try to deceive us! We are hunters of the Mahariel clan, and we do not know your face."

It took a while to calm everyone down...but eventually the truth came out. Tamlen and Sadbh were the missing elves that had discovered the mirror. Sadbh had apparently regained consciousness after blacking out, finding herself and her comrade burning with a strange sickness. She wouldn't dare infect the rest of her clan, so as she felt the life leak from her body, she took her companion through the mirror where they had eventually recovered. It was almost like they were Grey Wardens themselves. They had the same Taint, if in a different form. Anyways, for the two hunters, it was as if a week had passed, not years. There was...much to tell them, but this was not the place nor the time.

The hunters had not explored the Fade, preferring to linger near the mirror to make sure nothing else tried to get out; they were protecting their clan. They had discovered a few things; however, things that could aid the trio of foreigners. Though they still cast a suspicious eye on Sylrien, Alistair and Zevran, they offered their aid.

Something nagged at Sylrien whenever she looked as Sadbh. There was something familiar about her though she could not place it. The Dalish woman felt it too, maybe that was why she volunteered to help with their strange mission so quickly.

They continued to walk down the endless road.

"See, when we entered the mirror...we were lost, there was nothing. We kept thinking about the mirror and home, focusing on that and then there it was. It was like we willed it to appear. Perhaps if you do the same, it will get you to where you need to be?"

Sylrien caught Sadbh glancing at her every now and then; The elf Tamlen was quiet and he never left the Dalish woman's side. Alistar and Zevran trailed behind them. She nodded to Sadbh, rubbing her neck.

The a strange thing started to happen as they walked. Before, the Black City appeared on the horizon, always looming overhead but never did the distance really change. As they walked, as they really concentrated on their destination, it changed. It was not a gradual process. One step forward and the the city suddenly jumped closer. A hour would pass and it looked like they made no progress, only for to the party to stop and find themselves close enough to make out the tattered banners flying from the walls. It was like an onion, whole layers of distance peeling away at sporadic intervals. The only thing the party could do was keep moving forward.

Then, before they realized it, they were at the gates.

Sylrien and Sadbh nearly ran right into the giant doors. It was just that random and sudden. Well, Sadbh had the wherewithal and state of mind that she managed to stop herself. Sylrien was unfortunate enough to not be as fast. She fell on her rear, grumbling and rubbing her forehead. Real, good natured laughter broke out through the party. The tension finally eased somewhat. After she was done grumbling, the group warily stepped back (What if stepping back sent them at the beginning? No, we must concentrate on the gates, their guides told them. Focus!)

Two giant doors loomed before them. They were so tall that they seemed to go on forever, disappearing into the sky. They were black, as were the walls, but they seemed to move. As if there were things inside, pressing against them and leaving impressions in the soft material. There was a low sort of wailing that seemed to emanate from behind the wall, a piteous cry that never ceased. Sylrien touched the doors, her fingers leaving slight indentations. No matter how much she pushed, how much they all pushed...the doors never opened.

"This is great. I really don't know what we were expecting. Think the Maker would great us with flying banners and trumpets? We should go back if we even can go back! This was too dangerous and a bad idea."
The lack of action, the roadblock annoyed Alistair to no end, so he did what he always did when he was annoyed: He talked. Sylrien stood back, rubbing her temples as he went on...This was frustrating. She couldn't stop him from feeling it, but hearing about it was an entirely another matter.

He was going on, and on, and on. It was as if something had been unplugged and the words all came rushing on.

"...You're dead. They're dead. Well, you're really more alive, you were dead. You shouldn't be put in a position to be in danger anyways. We should have used Leliana's old contacts. It's not like we could simply knock on the door to the Black City and expect a merry welcome." To emphasize his point he rapped his knuckles against the 'wooden' frame.

Then something began to creak, it sounded like gears were grinding. A layer of dust seemed to shake off the doors. And they began to move. Sylrien looked over to Alistair to mouth, 'you brilliant bastard!' He blushed at her, shrugging slightly. The doors finally began to open.

A trickle of golden sand began to leak from the crack the doors made as they moved slowly. Sylrien bent down to touch it, eyebrows furrowing. The substance dissipated on touch. Then...more sand rushed out, covering her boots mid calf. She looked up at the opening crack. As far as she can see, there was a wall of that sand behind the doors. The low wail stopped, and in the infinite space of the Fade a breeze whooshed past her. The wind did not end, it only grew. She began to edge away from the door as the others pulled out weapons. Then the doors suddenly swung open, and there was a wall of sand rushing down towards them.

"Run!"

Sylrien was the first to turn, the first to bolt in the opposite direction. The wind picked up the sand, and it turned into a wave. There was no escaping it; the very line of thinking that got them to the gates also tied them down to it. They couldn't think of anything else but the wave nipping at their heels. The two Dalish elves were already far ahead of the three. Zevran was in front of her, Alistair...

Alistair!

She turned to see the plate-clad knight struggling to keep up the pace. The wave was gaining on him. Sylrien stopped, reaching out a hand to him, to pull him along, anything!
"Go!" He shouted, "Run! Leave me!"

Sylrien shook her head, "Never!" Her fingers slipped around his own, trying to tug him along.

The sand had caught up to him, began to swallow him. She tried to pull him out, no matter the golden flecks that were beginning to pool around her boots, her knees.
"Alistair!" She shouted again, catching only a flash of hazel eyes before the wave swallowed him whole.
Sylrien still had his hand, his fingers were tightly laced with hers; she began tugging, pulling frantically behind her as she looked ahead at the elves ahead of her. Zevran had paused when he realized she had lagged behind. She reached out her free hand to him....he stopped cold in his tracks. She could see it in his eyes, the sand mounting up behind her. It was about hip deep now, waist deep. It was all too fast. Still, she wouldn't let go of Alistair's hand.

The other elves were trying to pull Zevran away.
"Go!" She pleaded, screamed at him.
Something in the blond elf snapped, he was pushing against the arms of the Dalish to reach her, shouting her name. They were dragging him off, one of his hands reached out for hers...She began to scream - the sand had reached her shoulders, she tried to let go, but now Alistair's fingers were like a vice around her wrist - and her mouth filled with sand. All she could see was golden sand.

It consumed them all.