He was getting worse.

He knew it himself; he was aware of the others watching him keenly. They were starting to become attuned to his reactions; the slight twist to his face as the familiar tide of nausea rode over him was Fenris' cue. "Carver."

"I feel them," nodded the Warden, glancing back to Anders as Hawke and Fenris readied their blades. The brief blue-white sheen over Anders' eyes, watching which way he turned – anticipating where the attack would come from.

Brief moments during the fight when he would feel the spirit energy wash over him, another will overlaying his, the blasts of power from his outstretched hand or launched from the point of his staff not born of any spell from his lips but born from within as Justice took a more direct hand in the battle. It was easier to ride it out, work with the spirit than fight against it.

They could tell when they were getting closer to the next seal; the waves of darkspawn increased, and a thin sheen of perspiration beaded the mage's brow as he dreaded what was to come when the seal was broken.

Carver paused by a mezzanine railing, staring down into the room below. "Isn't it odd that a darkspawn-filled pit is making me feel closer to Father?" he mused, glancing at his older brother. Hawke stared at the shadowy forms of the creatures as they milled restlessly, then glanced back over his shoulder. Anders was staring down at the creatures with a look of horrified fascination, a slightly greenish cast to skin. As Hawke watched, he swallowed, fighting down another wave of nausea. Fenris stepped up close beside the mage, gently resting a hand on his shoulder. Anders shrugged it off irritably.

"I'm fine," he muttered. "Stop fussing."

Carver and Hawke exchanged glances. "Come on," said Hawke. "Let's get this over with."

As the desire demon crumpled and faded, a blue haze formed in the centre of the room, coalescing slightly into a vaguely humanoid shape; the hollow voice of Malcolm Hawke echoed in the stone room. Hawke and Carver followed it with their eyes as it slowly drifted past.

"I've bought our freedom, Leandra. We can go home now, us and the baby. We'll be together." It began to slowly disperse, the voice slowly fading. "I hope it takes after you, love. I would wish this magic on no-one." As the blue haze disappeared, the last words hung upon the air; "May they never learn what I've done here."

Hawke turned slowly to Carver.

"Father didn't want a child with magic? He got that one wrong then," said Carver. "I guess the Warden's looking pretty good then."

"Like we've seen here today, what Father's kind have to deal with every day is beyond you," replied Hawke, his eyes briefly flicking to the mage.

"That does loom heavy," admitted Carver, "But everything's in the shadow of the Blight." He paused, then shook his head. "Maker, it's like we're back in Lothering, sniping for no reason." He toed a pile of bones with one foot. "I did worry for Bethany," he added quietly. "She just wanted to be 'normal'. As if either of us made a good case for it."

"She knew what we all could be. Mages and us. Glad you're starting to see it too," replied Hawke.

Carver glanced over to Anders, who stood silently nearby, lost in his own thoughts. "We'll see, I suppose," he answered. He glanced back at Hawke. "As far as we get, they're still gone – Father, Mother. Bethany. I'm tired of losing things. Even you, sometimes," he added wryly. "Gamlen can go suck an egg."

Hawke snorted in derisive laughter. Carver smiled awkwardly. "Come on. This mess down here – it's not following us out."

Hawke nodded, and they headed off together, the others falling into place behind them.

The next seal was guarded by more than one guardian demon. They were hard-pressed to defeat them; as soon as one fell, it seemed two more were lining up to take its place. Anders was barely putting up even a token resistance to Justice; increasingly as the others glanced at him, the glare that returned their gaze was an inhuman fiery blue-white instead of the apostate's amber brown regard. As the last demon guardian fell, Anders stood still for several minutes, his expression curiously blank before the spirit fire faded and he blinked slowly. He glanced to Hawke warily.

"Ready?" asked Hawke. Anders nodded briefly and steeled himself.

Hawke drew Malcolm's sword and stepped into the centre of the seal. As before, both Hawke and the sword were suddenly bathed in brilliant glaring light as the seal surrendered its magic to the blade until finally the light died away. The sword glowed a dull red which slowly faded.

Instantly, Anders' head was filled with hissing whispers, the haunting voice that filled his dreams. Yessss, my child... come closer, bring the key nearer... each step brings you nearer to me. Why bother trying to resist? You are so tired, so weary, my poor son. Come, release me; yield up your burden. Open up your mind and your heart. Open up to me, my beloved...

"No!" choked Anders, clutching at his hair, eyes wild and desperate. "Get out of my head!"

Carver reached out and grasped Anders' shoulders, shaking the mage lightly. "Anders? Anders!" The mage's eyes stared blankly through the Warden as he gritted his teeth, raking his hands through his hair as he shook his head. "Maker, it's like he doesn't even hear me!"

"Hang in there, Blondie; we'll get you out of this," said Varric; Anders seemed oblivious, closing his eyes and groaning.

"Garrett, we've got to do something to calm him down," said Carver.

"Hawke," said Fenris as he pushed Carver aside and reached up to cup Anders' face between his hands, careful not to pierce the agitated mage's skin with the talons of his gauntlets. Hawke nodded and stepped up close behind Anders, wrapping his arms around the distressed apostate and resting his head against a feathered shoulder as Fenris let his lyrium brands flare into life.

"Anders. Listen to me. It's Fenris."

"We're both here for you, love," breathed Hawke as Anders struggled briefly. Then he bent his head down and opened his eyes.

"Love?" he breathed softly, one hand stealing slowly up to touch the elf's face hesitantly as the other hand reached up to close over Hawke's hands which were pressed firmly over his racing heart. "Garrett?"

"Beloved?" said Fenris softly. Anders slumped and closed his eyes in thankful relief.

"I think we'd best make camp," suggested Varric. "I don't think Blondie's in any fit state to go any further right now."

Carver nodded. "I agree."

"You three just... take your time," said the dwarf gently. "Carver, let's set things up." Carver stared at the three, huddled together, the mage held safe and comfortingly by his two lovers, then nodded as he turned to assist Varric.

"You seem to be softening a bit towards Blondie," remarked Varric quietly. "Changing your tune on mages?"

"He's a Warden," replied Carver. "He may be an irritating sod, but no-one deserves to go through what he's dealing with right now." He started to kick apart an old rotten crate for firewood and kindling. "Andraste's tits, where do all these crates come from, anyhow?"

"Beats me," shrugged the dwarf. He set to work kindling a fire.

"He is waking," said Larius as he shuffled into the small circle of brightening firelight. Carver jumped; he'd been growing so used to the background feeling of taint that Larius' approach had gone unnoticed.

"The magic grows lax," the old Warden continued. "He feels us walk where no step goes."

Hawke reluctantly pulled away from Anders, relinquishing him into Fenris' embrace. Anders rested his head upon the elf's shoulder, nestling his face against the side of Fenris' neck. Fenris wrapped his arms around the slender man.

"Are you talking about Corypheus?" asked Hawke, walking towards Larius.

"He calls," Larius nodded. "Like an Old God. He mimics their cry."

Anders lifted his head and glanced round. "Can the rest of you hear him?" he asked wonderingly. "I figured it was just me." There was a look of mixed relief and embarrassment in his eyes. Carver scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"I thought I heard..." he shook his head. "I thought I was only dreaming." He glanced at Anders almost apologetically. "Nothing like what you seem to be feeling though."

"He calls them to free him," said Larius. "The dark children and the light, any with taint in their blood."

"If Corypheus isn't an Old God, then what is he?" asked Hawke. "Human, demon, darkspawn?"

"More than darkspawn," replied Larius. "More than human. He thinks. He talks. He pierces the Veil."

"You're talking about an awakened darkspawn," remarked Carver. "The Wardens have only encountered them once."

"That's the Wardens," replied Anders quietly. "Always so sure of everything." He gently detatched himself from Fenris and walked over to stand next to Hawke.

"He wants what was once his," said Larius.

Hawke frowned. "How could this Corypheus be sending people after me if he is asleep?"

"He can call," replied Larius. "Dream, but not know. When the seals are gone, he will awake – and he must die."

"Why are you down here?" asked Hawke. "How have you survived?"

"The Calling," replied Larius, his Blighted gaze going to Carver before lingering upon Anders. "The music. It is our death."

"The Wardens say that once the corruption goes far enough, the darkspawn can't sense you anymore," explained Anders quietly.

"Your last advantage as you throw yourself at them," nodded Carver.

"Yes," agreed Larius. "I lived, but I died. The corruption feeds me. So many years in darkness..." He looked away, then glanced back "I know the darkness before the seals," he added quietly as he turned and started shuffling away into the darkness. "Here, the voice is too strong. Too strong..."

They turned and looked at each other. "It's not just me then," said Anders to Carver. "You can hear it too? It's not just... just all in my head?"

"You're not going mad, if that's what you mean," replied Carver. "Well, no more so than anyone with a Fade spirit already in your head, I guess."

Anders' expression darkened and he turned away.

"Way to go, Carver," muttered Hawke. "Just for that, you're on first watch tonight."

Carver groaned and followed Hawke back towards the fire.