Authors note: And here we have the introduction of our second hero. This will be the last update for a little while, as I have just started an intership and will have less time to write. In the meantime, prehaps I'll be able to pick up some more reviews and constructive criticism (hint, hint). Enjoy chapter 3 of the Prelude! Oh, I kind of forgot last time but I wanted to give a shout out of thanks to my one reviewer, it is appreciated!

Prelude: Chapter Three: A Harrowing Affair

It was a clear night. First cloudless night in ages, Dylan thought to himself. He had snuck up to the top of the tower to stargaze. His favorite activity since childhood, he often had to do it alone. Jowan and Surana had always had a shared fear of heights. Dylan was fond of the roof because of the height. At very top of the tower, the confines of stone and water seemed to end at the night sky. If it was possible he would step out into the stars and leave the ever watching templars behind forever. Settling for the illusion, he lay on his back and traced the constellations with a finger. As a child, templar had once told him that the stars were mages that the Maker had separated from the rest of the world because of their wicked deeds. He placed them in the sky as an example. Surana laughed at him for believing that. The stars, she said, were too joyous for that. Besides, it would be too wonderful to be in a place the templars couldn't reach to ever have it considered a punishment. Her mother used to say the stars were the souls of the ones we loved looking down on us, keeping us safe.

Was she was up there herself now?

The ache in his chest reminded him how much missed her. How could she have failed her harrowing? She was as strong and stubborn as First Enchanter Irving when they came for her. His last memory of her came unbidden to his mind as his fingers traced "The Lady, pointer jumping from star to star. She was shushing him and saying she'd be back soon; her long red hair following her like a train between the templar escorts as she disappeared. He was tracing the constellation "The Hero" when there was a scraping sound and the trapdoor suddenly opened. He scrambled up, excuses on his tongue when he saw that it was only Cullen. Dylan gave a sheepish smile instead.

"You've caught me again, Cul. It was just so beautiful out and-"

Cullen lifted his hand to silence him.

"It is time, Dyl."

"Not breakfast, surely" he joked.

Unfortunately, he knew exactly what Cullen was talking about.

"Greagoir and the other templars are waiting, I told them I wanted to be the one that fetched you." Cullen's voice was matter a fact, but he could hear the earnestness in it. As though he were laying claim to something. He wondered bitterly if this wasn't because he had been away when Surana had died. She had vouched for Cullen when few would even consider taking a templar for a friend. Her trust was what originally made them friends, and they had managed to stay friends even with her gone. The world needed more people like Surana, people willing to attempt to bridge insurmountable rifts between beliefs. Dylan turned his back on Cullen and looked up at the sky. He took a very deep breath and allowed himself to take it all in, the stars, the sky, the night air, for what could be the last time.

"Let's go."

The harrowing chamber looked just as he imagined it would. An empty cavernous place with a spirit font in the middle. Wasn't this always the kind of place where really important mage moments turned out to be? Couldn't they mix it up a little? He had always secretly thought the harrowing would be how long a mage could take a templar droning on about the chantry before snapping; but judging from the spirit font it looked like it would be a journey into the fade instead. Typical. He barely paid attention to Irving's explanation of the lyrium in the bowl. He just wanted to get on with it. He took a sip, and the world went fuzzy. His last tangible thoughts before hitting the floor were wishing that he had paid just a little more attention to that last bit. Within seconds, his body slump forward to the floor. The observers did not move to adjust him. No one was allowed to touch him until he was deemed safe. If Dylan had been awake, he might have dropped a snide comment about having to look like a drunk to pass the harrowing. 'good luck, my boy' Irving thought grimly as he and Greagoir settled in for the night and probably what was to be most of the next day.

"Do you think he will make it?" Greagoir asked after awhile. The waiting period of the harrowing did not normally include small talk.

Irving raised an eyebrow at how causal he sounded.

"I don't think morale could take another blow like Surana. The Templars liked her too, you know."

"The poor girl," he sighed deeply. Surana and Dylan had always been Irving's favorites among the apprentices. Something must have gone terribly wrong. Nobody had seen it coming. The young man in front of him was less reliable than his female counterpart, more prone to his own way than the right one. He had been more worried about Dylan than Surana, and Surana had failed.

A pounding at the door pulled both the First Enchanter and the Knight Commander out of their own thoughts.

"The harrowing has already begun." Greagoir shouted tersely.

"Ser," the unsure voice of the templar initiate warbled softly through the door, "A Grey Warden has just come across the lake with a sick elf. She needs a powerful healer right away."

"So get somebody," Greagoir said in an imperious voice. "Healers abound in the tower."

"Mistress Fane, the one Wynne left in charge while she was gone, said that the only mage with the ability to do any good at this point would be First Enchanter Irving. Begging you pardon, ser, but if she doesn't get help immediately, the Warden thinks she'll die."

"Maker's breath," Irving said quietly, "Greagoir, unseal the door."

"Are you mad, Irving? What if something should slip through?"

"Give the boy some credit, he's only just gone under. Reseal them after I leave."

"What if something should happen? Will you trust my judgement?"

"Unless you give me cause to doubt it, yes. I do not approve of allowing a girl to die just because we are bickering. I have every confidence that Dylan will be back with us soon."

He must have sounded more confident than he felt. Although Greagoir's face went purple, but he did as was requested.

"Take me to the child."

Irving was surprised to see Duncan in the guest room. He would have thought he would have been at Ostagar by now. He looked at the girl, woman really, and his question was answered.

"Darkspawn taint?" he asked wearily.

"A new recruit, she was tainted a few days ago, but until yesterday has shown remarkable resistance to it."

Irving reached out and probed with his magic. She was very far gone and he did not fully know how to treat the taint. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"I'll do my best."

Dylan wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about all this, but he was pretty sure he was not feeling the right thing. Wasn't the harrowing supposed to be awe inspiring? He was actually kind of annoyed as he walked with Mouse through the fade. The sloth demon was nothing like the sloth demons he had read about. They were supposed to be the toughest demons in the fade, not drunk Bearskarn. Mouse led him to where the boss demon was supposed to be and watched as it climbed out of the ground.

"That's it? Really?" he cocked an eyebrow at it, and rubbed his beard absentmindedly. "I thought it would be taller. Huh."

The rage demon was appropriately enraged.

"Do not mock me, mageling! The Mouse and I have eaten hundreds of your brethren. It is a most beneficial arrangement we have together. This time I will make it to the outside."

"Mouse?" Dylan looked at his new companion, who was twitching in fear. "You have to understand they would have come after me. Me! I had to protect myself."

A likely story.

Without another word the demon attacked. Rolling his eyes, Dylan gave it a sound magical thrashing, not that it was very hard. For all the boasting, it was still only a rage demon, the lowest demon on the proverbial pecking chain. Something was off here. Very off.

Mouse was filled with glee. "You did it! You did it! That's the fastest I've ever seen." The twitchy man crossed his arms and stared down at the ash and frost pile with satisfaction. "Your going to be a First Enchanter or someone important. I can tell. Now, would you mind helping me with one more thing before you go?"

"What is it, my friend?" Dylan's guard was up. He knew better than to give favors to someone who would lead him to slaughter, but he was patient. If the demon was truly defeated, shouldn't he be waking up in the chamber now? Mouse's favor must be the key. He gave his new "friend" a false smile and wondered how quickly it would be over.

"I've been stuck here for so long, you see, and all I need is a foothold really. A foothold, and I can get back, you have no idea how horrible its been here.

Ah, that was it.

"You know I can't do that, Mouse. If that ever was your real name..."

Mouse gave him a bitter smile. The thin, reedy voice deepened almost immediately, the malicious glee behind it threw Dylan for a moment. Perhaps he had underestimated him.

"Smarter than the last one I see, Dylan" he chuckled.

A chill went down his spine.

"How do you know my name?"

He had been very careful about saying his name in the fade. According to the old lore, it was a way demons gained hold of you. More modern magic held that contracts were the primary way demons possessed people, but one could never be too cautious.

"She was calling for you when she died." The self satisfied smirk on the rapidly changing face of Mouse was anger inducing. He didn't have to elaborate on who the 'she' was. Dylan fought to keep a stranglehold on his temper as the creature taunted him. It was very clear that 'Mouse' was out of his league, however much he wanted to pummel the creature. "I thought you were the one when you passed through. When someone is devoured, sometimes we catch the feel of their last thoughts. You were her dying wish." he chuckled to himself. "She was trusting, far too trusting to survive. Love, friendship, trust; they are not what they seem here. Nothing is what it seems. To help is sometimes to hurt."

Mouse's body began to contort, growing and towering over him before completely disappearing.

"Just remember, true tests never end."

A slight shift in reality occurred and Dylan felt the call of the real world on him as the demon released his hold. His eyes flew open to see the stone floor of the chamber.

"Amell?" Griegor asked surprised. It was too soon, far too soon. The boy surely must be...

Viciously frowning at the floor, Dylan tried to regain control of his muscles

"Well, That was...harrowing."

Greagoir gave a snort. No, that was most certainly Amell.

Irving's second did a quick assessment of him and confirmed it.

"It seems as though congratulations are in order."

Just as Dylan managed to right himself, the Knight Commander gave him a pat on the back nearly sent him back to the floor. The man ought to try to remember he was in plate mail!

Dylan strategically leaned against the spirit font to avoid looking weak in front of the templars. Glancing about for Greagoir's better half, he found Irving was nowhere in sight. Odd.

"Where is Irving?"

He managed to get the question out before his knees rudely decided to buckle. The second grabbed him effortlessly. She was quite fit for a woman and a mage, and managed to pull him upright again even as he waved her away.

"There was an emergency shortly after your harrowing began that called him away. He said if you made it to send you to the apprentice quarters to get some rest. They'll have your new room ready tomorrow." the second said. For all his posturing, his tiredness must have been evident, because she came forward and carefully draped his sagging frame over her, pulling him towards the door

"Oh, come on now, it's nothing to be ashamed of, a few hours of rest and you be back together in no time."

Dylan slept fitfully. In his dream, Surana was fighting Mouse and losing. She screamed his name over and over again as he tried to reach her. He was always too late. Mouse cackled as he tore her to shreds. After the third time, his dream shifted and he saw something new. It was as if he were watching it from a far. A blackness was on the horizon, radiating out where the sun should be. At the very edge of it, there was a woman, but not Surana. He could just make out the pointed tips on her ears. An elven woman. Her black hair was blown back by an invisible wind. ribbons of darkness were entwined about her legs, trying to pull her into something he could not see. She was putting up a vicious fight. He headed towards her, but was blown back, he stood up to try again...

"Dylan? Dylan, wake up!"

He sat up very suddenly, almost bumping his head on the bunk above him.

"You sounded like you were having a nightmare. Does the harrowing do that?"

Dylan didn't even need a minute to parse out who it was.

"You know I can't talk about it, Jowan."

The shaggy, doglike man just laughed. "Well, you can't blame me for trying, can you? Mine will be soon, hopefully."

Jowan had arrived a year before Surana and himself, and was the only one from his arrival group who had not undergone harrowing yet. Jowan took to magic slower than most, but he was still decent. Dylan really didn't understand the delay.

"Lots have been happening while you were out. A Grey Warden is here with a sick recruit. Irving's been with her all night, but it looks like there's no change." Jowan shot him an affectionate grin. "They are saying your harrowing was the quickest in circle history, you know. We were supposed to let you sleep, but I knew you wouldn't want to miss out on the adoration."

Dylan rolled his eyes at his friend, but grinned back all the same.

"Irving will want to speak with you, no doubt. I would head to the guest rooms if you feel up to it. Congratulations, Dylan. Surana would be proud."

Jowan headed in the direction of the chantry part of the tower and Dylan was left to himself for a few moments.

He felt stiff and groggy, but managed to get up anyway. Two of the female apprentices saw him wake and brought him a plate of bread and fruit, pelting him with congratulations. He thanked them for it, smiling winningly as they disappeared in a flurry of giggles and blushes. He had always been popular with the ladies. It was much the same all the way up to the guest rooms, where the mood turned more dire. He guessed which room their ill guest was in by the templars who stood outside. Nodding to the guards, moved inside, and was momentarily stunned by what he saw.

A young elven woman was laid out on the bed. Her skin was much paler than one would expect from one with fever; her dark hair was damp with sweat. It was beyond a doubt the woman from his dream. Was this some bizarre coincidence?

"Oh. Dylan." Irving sounded more tired than he looked, and he looked exhausted, "I heard you had survived. congratulations."

"It seems as though a lot has happened while I have been in the fade. What is her name?"

Duncan was surprised by the young man's question. It was not something anybody had asked after. There had been more pressing matters after all. "Ishafel. Ishafel Mahariel of the Dalish. She is a warden recruit who has been tainted by darkspawn, I was trying to get her to Ostagar before something of this nature happened.

"Ishafel," He murmured to himself. He stepped forward before Duncan or Irving could stop him and took her hand. He could feel the fast, shallow pulse under the skin of her wrist. He wasn't sure why, but she reminded him of Surana. Perhaps it was the look of determination on her face when he dreamt her. To be asked to become a Warden, despite the prejudice against her people? That was an honor. To have the ability to show the world that you were more than the dirt and rot they thought you were? That was a gift. A gift she would never get to use by the looks of it. Would she succumb to the fade creature that held her there? Dylan felt the sudden urge to do something. He was abruptly reminded of the harrowing, where mages and templars played spectator as a young soul was devoured and gave hollow congratulations when it was not. Surana had suffered and died on the flagstones in front of the people who had raised her. He didn't want to live his life forever watching as the people around him perished. This woman was not Surana and he could save her, there was still time.

"Allow me to attempt to heal her, First Enchanter." he said with a ferocity that confused both Duncan and Irving.

"Dylan, I have been at it all night and there is no change, I am afraid she maybe lost to us, my boy. You are already weakened from your harrowing. I would not want to lose you as well.

"Please, just let me try." He took her other hand in his firmly and began to call her.

"Ishafel..."

He fell back into the fade easily. He could see the darkness from his dream, only now it was not on the horizon. No, now it was in front of him, tugging at his robes with a wind that pushed and pulled at the same time. The only difference was she was no longer there.

"Ishafel?" He tried to penetrate the darkness and it shoved him back. It wanted only Ishafel it seemed. Well, he would not let it have its way. Holding out his hands, rested his palms on the inky material of the mass and began to push. There was nothing at first, the creature was solid as stone. Reaching inside himself, applied a bit of magical pressure. The stone veil resisted at first but after a mintue, groaning, it gave way and Dylan fell into a viscous mass of shadow. It rush about him in a runny fluid that would have soaked him clean through if he was anywhere but the fade. Pressing forward, he called out her name "Ishafel! Ishafel, Where are you?"

Ishafel did not know where she was. The darkness, that foreboding feeling she had felt in the cave was all around her, crawling through her skin and skull. She wanted it out. She had to get out, but it kept pulling at her, calling her forward. Faintly, she heard a voice. It wasn't possible was it? Clinging to her last improbable hope, she screamed as loud as she could. The darkness tried to slither down her throat to eat up the sound.

"I'm here! I'm here! Help me!"

At the sound of a female voice, Dylan pushed even harder through the void. He was now practically screaming her name. There was a great roar in his ears, and he felt the sting of astral chunks of skin being pulled from his form as the fuild began to crawl up his arms and towards his muth.

"ISHAFEL!"

The darkness pulled harder, but the voice was closer, "Here, here I am." she croaked. Her throat felt raw. She could not keep this up much longer. She was so tired. She almost thought she was hallucinating when vaguely through the dark she saw a figure. It was a shem, dressed in mages robes, his hair the red orange of fire. Was he real?

Dylan called out again, and this time he saw her, thrashing against the bonds that held her as she responded. The thing that held her was as dark as the darkness it wrapped itself in. With the absence of light, he almost didn't make out the form. He could see the head of a dragon, it's long spindly talons encircling her arms and legs. It was a creature of nightmare. He swallowed hard. What had he gotten himself into?

Opening wide it's mouth, the dragon made ready to consume her.

"No!"

In burst of adrenaline, Dylan leapt forward and grabbed Ishafel by her waist.

"You shall not have this one."

The stranger's touch infused strength back into Ishafel's body. she ripped her arms away forcing back hard, scaly flesh as it groped for her. The dark pulled at her legs forcefully, knocking her off her feet. Frantically, she threw her arms around Dylan and with a final tug he wrested her from the beast. Snatching her up, Dylan gave into his instincts and ran as fast as he was able, focusing on the pinpoint of light he had left when he broke in. Snarling, the dragon creature followed in predatory pursuit. He could feel it's breath on his neck even as the two of them surged out into the light.

"By the maker, he did it."

It took Ishafel a moment to realize she was hugging someone very, very tightly. Her face was buried in auburn hair that smelled like cinnamon and a tangy spice she didn't know. He hugged her back for a moment longer before letting go. The mage smiled at her and she took measure of his face. It looked just as it did in the nightmare only it had more life in it. The face she had thought was on fire was simply red hair and a beard. He also had a dark tattoo over his left eye that she hadn't noticed, partially hidden by his hair. He smiled a dazzling smile at her.

"Ishafel, my dear, it is so good to meet you in person."

From behind him came praise of the highest order,

"Dylan, I have never seen anything like this in all my days, you are amazing! you are-"

Dylan promptly fainted.

The voice, which she could now see belonged to a older man in similar robes, chuckled, "You are sorely in need of a rest it seems." The man called for two guards in armor. Gently, Dylan was carried out. The old man turned to her with a smile.

"Well, welcome to the Tower of the Magi, my dear. How are you feeling?"

Ishafel shook her head, once, twice to clear it.

"A little dizzy," she admitted, "but better than I've felt in days." she looked in wonder at Duncan.

"I feel almost as well as I did before I was tainted."

Duncan raised both eyebrows. That was impossible, he had never heard of a healer who could make that much of a difference in a taint victim. But it did not look as though she was exaggerating. There was a healthy flush in her skin, and her voice had strength in it.

"It's good to here that," he said genuinely, "you were quite close to death's door."

"It death what that dragon was?" she asked drowsily, it seemed the healing had taken something out of her too. She lay back in the bed, contented.

"Well, I've never heard it described-"

"No, that was not death." Duncan interrupted the First Enchanter abruptly.

"Falon'Din be thanked." she muttered, and in moments was asleep.

"Where have you taken the man who cured her?" Duncan asked, watching Ishafel's face slip into the kind of peaceful slumber she had not been privy to since her taint. Her so called brush with death sounded rather like a brush with the archdemon. He had never heard of such an encounter before, but if one thing had be come clear it was that Ishafel was full of surprises.

"The apprentice quarters, he just passed his harrowing tonight." Irving beamed with pride. "He does not get his own quarters until tomorrow."

"I need to make sure the taint has not spread to him. It is unusual for one young mage to be able to make that much of a difference in a taint victim."

The satisfaction on Irving's face flickered.

"I will take you there myself. I assure you that Dylan has always been a powerful healer when he's applied himself."

Dylan did not stir in the slightest when Duncan came to look at him, or even when he examined the burn marks on his arms and legs. The taint had not transfered. Duncan meditated on the man for a moment, before allowing Irving to lead him to his own chambers. He was a force to be reckoned with by the looks of it, and still very young. Perhaps, Duncan thought, looking back as he followed Irving out, the detour had been a blessing in disguise.