His mind was still reeling, even as they followed Larius out of the room.
Oh, he had known – well, as much as anyone could be said to know until their own Calling, but he'd seen others when they finally could withstand their own Calling no longer, and embarked on their final journey into the Deep Roads. He'd always assumed they died down there – one last stand against the darkspawn before the Blight finally overtook them. And he'd seen the horrible deaths suffered by those who succumbed to the Blight; dying in one last glorious battle seemed far preferable.
But to think that the truth was far more horrible – that instead of dying, one would linger on in an eternal half-life, never dying but not truly alive, an unwholesome, undead thing, barely aware of who or what you were...
You will not end like that, I promise, my child. Only come to me; bring me the key, and I promise that you will have eternal life, not that lingering non-existence. Come to me, my poor tainted child... I have been waiting so long...
He clutched at his head as the horrible, hypnotic voice seemed to fill his mind with a sickly sweetness.
"I'm not listening... I'm not listening!" he growled, through gritted teeth. He was dimly aware of the others gathering round him; a hand on his shoulder – Hawke? Fenris? He had no idea.
"Come on, Blondie. You're strong enough to overcome this." Varric. He clung to the sound of the dwarf's voice as something trusted and familiar as he put out a shaking hand and leaned against the nearby wall. With an effort of will, Anders forced down the voice inside his head, refusing to be drawn into it. Slowly he lifted his head.
Varric raised an eyebrow at him.
"I'll be alright," he muttered. "Let's get a move on." He shoved himself away from the wall and set off once more after Larius.
It was getting easier to feel the darkspawn. Even before he stepped into the room, he gestured with his staff. "Two genlocks there. Three hurlocks, far wall, left-hand side." He gathered lightning in his hand, unaware his eyes had begun to glow as he stepped across the threshold, adding "Fenris, we'll take the Profane."
Hawke and Carver didn't question him; they stepped through and instantly turned to the right to engage the genlocks as Varric opened fire from the doorway on the hurlocks. Anders froze the Profane with a blast of ice as the elf darted in to engage with it before the mage spun and threw another ice blast at the hurlocks. He felt the genlocks fall one after the other behind him as he blasted the Profane with lightning; he was vaguely aware of Hawke and Carver sprinting past him to engage the hurlocks as Varric turned and started blasting at the Profane. He twirled his staff, reversed it, and jabbed pure spirit force at the being, feeling strangely disconnected and yet somehow acutely aware of everything at the same time.
"Carver!" yelled Anders, unaware of the strange, deeper echo to his voice, oblivious to the spirit energies that had begun to crackle and dance across his skin.
"I see them!" replied Carver as two skeletal Corpses rose up in the corner. Anders turned his attention back to helping Varric and Fenris finish off the Profane as Carver and Hawke dealt with the Corpses. Then Hawke turned back to stare at Anders.
"So who exactly is leading this little expedition, Anders?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Anders blinked, then stared down at his hands. The faint blue glow of spirit energy was dispersing even as he stared. He looked back up at Hawke.
"I knew where they were," he pointed out. "I could feel them so clearly."
Hawke shook his head. "No, I can see it made sense," he replied, walking back towards the mage. "It just seems...rather forward of you, Anders." He inclined his head a little to one side as his eyes narrowed. "It... is Anders... isn't it?"
Anders stared at Hawke, stricken. "Garrett... love... it's me. Not Justice. Look at my eyes. I'm not possessed, I swear it!"
Hawke patted Anders' arm. "It's getting harder for you to resist him down here, isn't it?" he said quietly.
"I can control it," said Anders through gritted teeth.
"I told you he should not have come," said Fenris. Anders stared at him, stung.
"You have no faith in me, do you?" He stared at the elf, then Hawke; neither could meet his eyes. "Any of you?" He stared around at Carver, who rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, then turned his gaze to Varric.
"You can handle this, Blondie," the dwarf said with calm assurance. "You're stronger than that."
"Thank you," Anders said with quiet gratitude.
"Let's get a move on," said Hawke uncomfortably. "Carver, take point." He brother nodded; he gave Anders one last worried look then moved ahead.
"Carver?" called Anders; the Warden looked back. "There's more darkspawn in there."
Carver nodded. "I feel them," he confirmed with a nod, then hefted his sword and headed on.
Anders hung back to fall into step beside Varric. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Varric," he said quietly.
"Ah, you're just getting yourself all jittery down here," the dwarf said, waving a hand. "You do it every time."
Anders nodded gloomily. "I really need to stay out of the Deep Roads," he agreed.
Fenris glanced back over his shoulder at the mage. "You speak of disliking the Deep Roads a great deal. Why?"
Anders raised an eyebrow. "Besides the obvious, you mean?"
"It's a dangerous place, but less so for a Grey Warden," replied Fenris as he dropped back to walk beside the mage and the dwarf.
"Darkspawn this, darkspawn that. Taint, taint, taint taint taint," replied Anders, his voice growing steadily bitter. "After a while, you just get so tired of it, you know?"
"I... do now," replied Fenris slowly. He glanced around the bare stones, drifts of dust and sand, bare rusting metal of railings, rotting remains of doors, and glanced back to Anders. "How can anything live here? What do the darkspawn feed on?"
"They don't eat," replied Anders shortly, the distant look in his eyes showing his mind was on other things. "The taint sustains them. As it does Larius, I guess."
"This isn't so bad, Blondie," said Varric. "You could be losing more coin to the elf in a game of Wicked Grace."
Anders groaned as Fenris gave a rare chuckle. "Don't remind me! At this rate, I'll still be paying him back when I'm dead!" Fenris patted him on a feathered shoulder.
"I'm sure you can think of... other ways to repay me, Beloved," he remarked quietly. Anders turned and looked down at him, a fond look in his soft warm brown eyes. "Just get me out of here in one piece," he murmured.
"We'll get you out of this, Blondie," promised Varric, patting his arm. Anders lowered his head, grateful for the support of his friends. He could feel the whispering starting again in the back of his head, but when Fenris slung a comforting arm around his slender waist, it retreated again to a point where he could ignore it.
For a while, anyway.