A/N - Thank you to all who continue to read and review this story! Your support means more than I can ever express. A special thanks to Etaine M for her invaluable advice and to Eve Hawke for being my wonderful and patient beta. *hugs*

Anders' eyes followed the ropes upward until they disappeared into the darkness of the well shaft, his heart rising into his throat. Had he really slid down those thin tendrils of woven fiber? The descent didn't seem that far on the way down. And Maker only knew how they were going to get back up to the surface – he didn't relish the thought of climbing back up the way he'd come. The waves crashing against the stone of the crevasse far below echoed the pounding in his chest. What was taking Zoya so long? He ran nervous fingers through his hair, resisting the urge to pace. It felt like hours had passed since he'd tugged on the rope to let her know he had safely joined Isabela.

The pirate kicked a pebble past Anders' feet, sending it skittering into the abyss. He shot her an annoyed glance but she only grinned impishly as she leaned against the water-smoothed stone. "So Anders… is she as much of a siren as I imagine her to be?"

Turning back to the ropes, now twitching as Zoya made her way silently along them, Anders sighed. "I've no idea what you're talking about."

A smirk settled on Isabela's lovely face, "Ahh… now I understand why you're so grumpy - you haven't bedded her yet, have you?" She chuckled as Anders' shoulders tensed, his jaw clenching against his angry retort. It was just like the lascivious pirate to enjoy getting a rise out of him. "What's the problem? You both clearly want each other. I can't imagine you depriving yourself - or is that what you're into these days?"

Anders scowled at the pirate. "It's really none of your business, Isabela." It was hard to admit, but she made a valid point. Under any other circumstance, he'd have made an immediate effort to bed the elf and quickly move on to the next opportunity. He rubbed at the stubble along his jaw, avoiding Isabela's eyes as the scowl softened. "Zoya… well, she's not like the others… she's special, I guess."

Isabela's grin widened as she sauntered over to him, running a hand over his chest. "Heh, the little elf has turned you into a romantic sap." She stood on tiptoes and leaned in close until he could feel her lips grazing his ear. "My advice to you, my lovely, lustful mage… have your way with her to satisfy your curiosity and then move on."

"I never asked for your advice, Isabela – keep it to yourself," Anders growled in low tones, glowering as he stepped out of the woman's reach. Sudden awareness hit him like bolt - since he'd met Zoya, the thought of tumbling another woman hadn't crossed his mind. Even Isabela's advances hadn't captured his attention. And more surprising, her advice to bed the elf and run left his stomach churning.

Zoya touched down lightly on the landing, her eyes narrowing as they swept over her surroundings and companions. Anders took a moment to appreciate the young elf as she stood on the stone's edge in the flickering light of the wisp. Just this afternoon, she'd been a blushing elf maiden, feminine and innocent in a pretty dress with flowers woven into the crimson waves of her hair. Maker knew it had taken all of his self-control not to carry her over to the sleeping platform, slip her out of that dress and tenderly explore every inch of her. She'd been tentative in her response to his advances, and it brought forth an unaccustomed tenderness and protectiveness. But standing before him now was a different creature entirely, covered from neck to toe in worn, black leather that hugged every subtle curve of her lithe form. She was wary and dangerous, but no less feminine. This woman ignited in him a much different passion, something darker and far less gentle. Maker's breath... he was in trouble.

She crossed to him on silent feet, a subtle sway to her hips as she moved with predatory grace. Tendrils of her fiery hair emphasized the delicate contours of her face and otherworldly eyes, the woven strands hanging down her back in a thick braid that accentuated the graceful line of her neck. As she quirked an eyebrow and offered an uncertain smile in response to the intensity of his gaze, she suddenly looked less deadly, but no less alluring. "Everything alright?"

Anders swallowed hard and gave her a reassuring grin, "Just fine. Ready to get going?"

Isabela regarded them, shaking her head in amusement before silently pushing away from the stone and ducking through a large crack in the wall. He gestured for the wisp to stay with the pirate as he called light into his staff. Zoya slid past Anders to follow Isabela, but something in him broke free as he caught the lingering scent of the flowers she'd woven in her hair that afternoon. His hand darted out, fingers wrapping around her arm to stop her from following Isabela. He stepped in close, backing her against the smooth cavern wall as he let his staff clatter to the ground, its light shifting wildly. Her eyes widened as he pressed against her, gasping as he gently pinned her wrist above her head with one hand while the other traced over the lacings and buckles of her fighting leathers.

Zoya tensed for a moment, and he felt a twinge of guilt – he'd promised her that he wouldn't push. But the feeling of her lissome, leather-clad body trembling under his hands was enough to undo any self-control he might have had. Anders watched the storm of emotions pass behind her eyes, hesitation stilling her movements. Those verdant eyes closed as she loosed a quivering breath that fluttered over his skin. Heart thudding in his chest, he waited for her to resolve whatever inner conflict was giving her pause. He was taken by surprise when she suddenly arched into his touch, lidded eyes dropping to his lips, her fingers strong as they threaded into his hair and gripped the nape of his neck to pull his mouth down to hers. Rosebud lips parted, her tongue seeking out his as soon as their lips touched.

Arms and legs tangled as they folded into one another, her warmth radiating through the smooth, use-worn armor. The way they fit was magical, like the Maker had created them just for each other. He'd been truthful earlier with Isabela - Zoya was different from other women. Being near her was like being drunk, making him willing to do absolutely crazy things. Who else could convince him to rob the Chantry? When it came to Zoya, his need was insatiable - to touch her, taste her, breathe her in, and claim her as his own - it gnawed at his gut. When she was near, there was only her – everything else became inconsequential.

His hand traveled down the lacing along her side, hesitating at the soft curve of her hip as he waited for some signal that she wanted his attentions to continue. He felt a smile tug at his lips as a slender leg drifted up the outside of his own; he didn't hesitate to take that as her approval. Catching the back of her knee, he slid her leg upward to press against his hip as he pulled her tighter to him.

He reveled in her response to his touch, breathing in her shuddering sigh. When she tugged at the arm he had pinned against the stone, he reluctantly released her wrist. Perhaps he'd pushed her too far? His heart swelled as she twined her arms around his neck, pulling herself up to wrap her legs around his waist. A hoarse groan escaped his lips as strong legs fastened around him; his knees weakening as heat gathered and pulsed at his center. Anders nipped at her lower lip, fondly recalling how she would bite at it herself when she was flustered, before sucking it between his own and tugging on it gently. She responded with a quiet moan as she tightened her limbs around him.

He was so wrapped up in the bliss of Zoya's clinging form and the sweetness of her mouth, he failed to notice Isabela had returned until her throaty chuckle sounded behind them. "I may have told you to bed her, but I didn't mean here and now! You two keep that up, and I'm not going to be able to resist joining in. But I suppose we'll have all the time in the world once we're safely aboard The Siren." She let out an inelegant snort when neither of them responded, remaining twined around each other with their foreheads touching.

Zoya's voice was little more than a husky whisper when she breathed, "Soon…" He felt himself tumbling into deep, green depths; their eyes locked, the connection between them sparking and surging. Her sultry gaze promised future pleasures, no longer fettered by fear or uncertainty.

Isabela cleared her throat, "As much as I hate to be the one to break up such a touching moment… if we're going to do this, it needs to be now." She spun on her heel, tossing a libidinous wink over her shoulder. "Don't make me come back here for you again... or I'll finish what you're trying to start!" She muttered under her breath as she sauntered away, "Maker's balls – you know it's a bad sign when I'm the responsible one in the group."

Anders listened to the quiet fall of her footsteps as she retreated and drew a deep breath to clear his head. When he finally found the words to speak, his voice sounded rough to his ears. "I suppose we better follow - Maker help us if she decides to come back for us..." He offered what he hoped was a wry grin.

"Don't worry, love... I'll protect you from the scary pirate..." The corners of her mouth twitched upwards. She gazed at him through dark lashes, sighing as she untangled her legs from around his waist, and slowly slid down until she stood on unsteady feet. He cupped her face, leaning in for one more lingering kiss before releasing her to follow Isabela's path.

~oOo~

Isabela's swarthy complexion paled; she grimaced as she tightened her grip on Zoya's hand. "How do you focus in here? It's like being drunk but without the fun bits - everything's all shifty. I don't know where to put my feet down, and the only thing I can feel is your hand – not that it's anywhere exciting." The pirate's face brightened for a moment and her lips quirked into a quick smile. "Oohh, that makes me think… Have you ever tumbled anyone in here? Because that might just be amazing!"

Zoya couldn't help but chuckle – even when she was frightened, the woman was preoccupied with carnal thoughts. Heat rose in her cheeks as the image of herself and Anders together in this place flitted through her mind. Clearing her throat, she tried to sound composed, "You get used to the way things are in here… eventually." She didn't dare tell the pirate that the first half-dozen times her mother brought her into this place between worlds, she had vomited from the time they entered until the moment they exited; in comparison, Isabela was doing quite well. Zoya offered the woman a lopsided grin as she gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She kept the grin in place as she glanced over her shoulder at Anders, quirking an eyebrow. "You're being awfully quiet – you still with us?"

Anders gave her a tense nod, the muscles along his jaw clenching as his eyes darted around his surroundings. "Don't you feel it? It's getting worse."

Zoya raised her eyebrows, twitching her head in Isabela's direction to let him know they should use caution when speaking. They didn't want to frighten the pirate unnecessarily. The spirits had been converging on them since shortly after they stepped into the Between; she'd been tracking them since the first tell-tale twist in her gut. The combined power of the two mages in this place was a potent lure for the denizens of the Fade. But for now, the spirits seemed content to watch and follow; she'd been preparing to yank her companions back into the mundane world if she felt the spirits' curiosity shift to something dangerous.

Isabela's hand spasmed as white-rimmed eyes searched her surroundings. "Maker's balls! Feel what? What's getting worse?"

Zoya tightened her grip on the pirate's hand, concerned the woman would pull free. "We're fine… everything's fine." She groaned as soon as the words left her mouth – she might as well have said 'What could possibly go wrong?' It came as little surprise when her gut twisted painfully in response to the increase in malevolent spirit energy. She grimaced at Anders as she tilted her head toward the ominous shadows gathering around them, trying to keep her voice neutral when she spoke. "Ummm, Isabela… how close are we to the vault?"

Isabela's eyebrows shot up. "Close - just around the next bend. Why?"

Cold sweat prickled Zoya's skin, bile rising in her throat as her head swam. "Don't panic, but we may have a problem…."

Isabela's lush mouth set into a firm line, "What is it about someone saying 'don't panic' that makes you want to do just that? Out with it, kitten."

Zoya took a deep breath and nodded at the woman. She was trying to appear calm, but her voice sounded strained even to her ears. "We need to leave this place, the sooner the better. The Veil here is too thin – almost like it's been shredded. And with the number of spirits that have gathered, well… if they attack us in here…" Just the thought made her blood run cold. "And there's still the chance they'll follow us through into the living world."

She looked over her shoulder at Anders. His jaw clenched as he tightened his fingers around hers and gripped his staff hard enough to turn his knuckles white; Zoya felt him start to gather power. "If there's to be a fight, I'd prefer it to be out there rather than in here."

Her eyes unfocused as she sought their path back to the mundane world, pulling Anders and Isabela along after her. Relief flooded her when she felt cool, damp air against her skin and solid rock under her feet. But the small comforts of the living world were cut short as she felt an odd tugging in her chest, strangely akin to what she imagined a cork felt like as it was pulled from a bottle. She watched with curious detachment as her body twitched and collapsed at the feet of her companions before all went dark.

~oOo~

While not generally uncomfortable in the Fade, the place between the spirit and living worlds was particularly disconcerting. The milling spirits on the other side of the Veil were a constant threat while they were in that realm between. Anders wasn't sure how Zoya stayed so calm in that place; he was genuinely relieved to finally return to the world of the living.

It had taken a moment to adjust to the change in perception, to convince himself that he was in the living rather than the spirit world. Anders was caught by surprise when the small hand that had been firmly grasping his went slack and Zoya collapsed in a heap at his feet on the smooth stone floor of the tunnel. Panic gripped him, and he dropped to her side, reaching out with his healing magic to examine her. He felt a surge of relief when he found no injuries - she was breathing and her heartbeat was faint but steady. She might not be injured, but the vibrant elf was now just a vacant shell. Past experience in the Circle had taught him that the most common explanation for this emptiness was that the mage's spirit was trapped in the Fade, usually because of intervention by a demon. And when this occurred outside of the Harrowing, it was uncommon for the mage to resist becoming an abomination.

He swallowed the fear catching in his throat, feeling helpless as the reality of the situation sank in - Zoya was in the Fade. Anders smoothed loose tendrils of hair from her face, caressing her cheek as he leaned down to press his lips to hers. If she had been taken by a demon, this was a fight she'd have to complete alone. His gut twisted as he imagined what she might even now be experiencing in the Fade. What would he do if she came back as an abomination? The very thought of having to fight Zoya, to kill her if she was possessed – he didn't think he could do it. Resting his forehead against hers for a moment, he sent silent prayers to the Maker to return Zoya to him unharmed before shifting to whisper in her ear. "Please come back to me, love. We've so many adventures ahead of us - I'm not ready to say goodbye yet."

Isabela was nervously treading back and forth along the length of the tunnel. "What happened? Is she… alright?" She stood for a moment, fidgeting as Anders ignored her before returning to her pacing. "Shit! Don't panic... everything will be fine, she says! Why do these things always happen at the worst possible times?"

Anders disregarded Isabela's increasing agitation as he watched over the young elf, alternating between hoping and dread as he watched for any sign that she'd returned to her body. He wasn't sure what to think about the girl's affinity with the Fade. Just when he thought she wasn't particularly powerful, something would happen to make him question that assessment, like that electric moment they'd shared on the docks. The memory of her magic twining with his, encouraging it to change and grow until it threatened to consume them, sent a tingle along his spine. At that moment, he'd suspected there was more depth to her power than even she realized. Maker help them if a demon controlled that potential.

Isabela's patience reached a breaking point, and her tone wasn't to be ignored when she spoke. "Anders! We need to go - now!"

Anders regarded her evenly, the stubborn set to his jaw letting Isabela know he wasn't going to back down. "I'm not leaving Zoya behind. The only reason I agreed to this was for her..." He nearly doubled over as his gut clenched, the light of his staff flickering. Andraste's flaming ass! The demons were breaching the Veil into the living world – Zoya had said that the Veil was thin here, but he'd hoped the demons wouldn't follow them into the realm of the living. He scooped Zoya into his arms, clutching her to his chest as he climbed to his feet. "Isabela, where's the vault? I need you to get us into it now!"

He followed, not daring to glance behind them, as Isabela led him down a short side passage that widened into a simple chamber before constricting back into a tunnel on the opposite side of the room. Similar to the rest of the man-made subterranean space, lanterns were spaced evenly above the barrels and crates that lined the walls. Isabela moved quickly to a plain, but heavily constructed door on one side of the chamber and knelt down to pick the lock, but Anders stopped her. His time in the Circle taught him that while the Chantry despised mages and magic, it wasn't uncommon for them to use magic when it suited them, like when safeguarding their treasures. He stood Zoya on her feet, shifting her over to Isabela to hold upright while he checked the door for any such traps – it wouldn't do to get this far only to be killed by an inferno while opening a door. Finding none, he pulled Zoya back into his arms and nodded at Isabela to continue. The elf felt strangely light, her head rolling loosely on her slender neck; he gently adjusted her in his arms so her head rested against his chest.

Isabela laughed as the door quickly swung open. "Am I good or what?" Her eyes widened as they entered the repository. A multitude of objects were heaped in chests and cluttering the many shelves and tables filling a room that appeared to have no end. The glint of gold and silver reflected a rainbow assortment of gems that ranged from small enough to be set in a ring to large enough to choke a dragon. Ancient leather-bound books and yellowing parchments were piled haphazardly on every flat surface, looking like they were likely to topple over at the slightest jostle. Heavy wooden racks bristled with utilitarian and decorative arms and armor; their enchantments enough to set the air to buzzing. A tall wooden shelf spanned a substantial portion of one wall, filled with jars of ash and bits of bone, enough to comprise a hundred prophets. Isabela nearly danced as she moved around the room, her fingers lingering on a couple of jewel encrusted baubles.

Anders let out a low whistle, "Andraste's flaming ass! How much wealth have they hoarded? I wonder if there's a place like this under every Chantry." He quirked an eyebrow at the pirate, "Why do I suspect that you have no intention of sticking to the list your employer gave you? You do realize that the most valuable things here are likely to be the least flashy?"

"Oh you know me so well!" She offered him a saucy wink, "Don't worry, sparkles… I intend to take plenty of both." Isabela loosed a throaty chuckle as she filled her pack with loot. Her face became somber as she regarded the young elf still nestled protectively in Anders arms. "So what now?"

Anders reluctantly lowered Zoya to the floor, brushing a gentle hand against her pale cheek before lighting the nearest lantern and gesturing to Isabela to follow him out through the repository's door. With a slight frown, he exerted his will and erected a barrier over the door, trapping the young elf within. "Now we fight demons as we wait for Zoya to return from the Fade."

"Ummm… wouldn't it have been better if we were on the other side of that barrier? Then we wouldn't have to fight demons at all." Isabela crossed her arms as she sulked.

Anders regarded her with haunted eyes, "That barrier probably won't stop these demons – they don't have to play by the same rules as those of us with mortal bodies. They'll just come up through the floor and then we'll be trapped in there with them. But it will briefly protect us from Zoya if she returns as an abomination." He ran his fingers through his hair, retying the leather thong binding it before drawing his staff from its sling on his back. The twisting in his gut was more urgent as the demons neared. "Are you ready to kill some demons? They'll be here any minute." He offered a half-hearted attempt at a smirk. "Watch the floor - you'll see a dark spot when they come and go. You don't want one popping up right under your feet."

"Be gentle with me, my lovely mage. It's my first time… well with demons at least…" She offered a wicked smile as she prepared for the first wave of demons, unsheathing deadly-looking twin daggers and spinning them in her capable hands. Her eyes swept the chamber, her muscles tense as she watched for the demons to appear. She shouted in surprise as they emerged through the floor of the chamber, dodging to the side as flame erupted near her feet. "Maker's balls! I thought you were kidding!"

~oOo~

The odorous night air swirled over Zoya's skin as delicate fingers carded through her hair. The waves lapping against the hulls of docked ships punctuated the song Adaia was quietly humming. Her hands continued to smooth the hair away from Zoya's face as she spoke in a light lilt, "Having a bad dream my darling girl?"

Zoya opened bleary eyes to scan her surroundings, confusion muddling her mind for a moment. Searching her memory, she saw tunnels, the surreal surroundings of the Between, hands grasping hers tightly – could it have been a dream? How did she get to the docks? Her head felt groggy, a pounding starting at her temples as she tried to remember.

A man's voice calling her name echoed in her ears; the throbbing in her head grew worse as she struggled to recognize it. As she narrowed her eyes to sweep the dock for the source of the voice, a ghostly image appeared of a human mage being chased by Templars before being run through and dumped into the murky waters. She leapt to her feet, the sudden urge to intervene overwhelming her common sense; Adaia's hand clasped her arm, anchoring her to their stone perch.

Giving her mother a questioning glance, she turned her attention back to the docks. The ghosts had faded, and no evidence of the mage or Templars remained. Out of the corner of her eye, the image of her mother wavered along with the rest of her surroundings. Zoya felt Adaia's hands, strangely cold, press lightly against her temples; she collapsed to her knees as the deeply buried memory was dragged from her mind.

Strong, slender hands gripped her shoulders, shaking Zoya back to her senses. It felt like something had been knocked loose and was now rattling in her skull. She reached up with trembling fingers to rub her aching cheek before threading them into her hair to probe the large knot growing there, feeling the sticky warmth of her own blood. A coppery taste filled her mouth as she gently swept her tongue along her teeth, making sure everything was where it should be.

Zoya fought to peel her eyes open as the world spun around her. As her vision cleared, she was surprised to see Adaia, who had left two days ago to meet Duncan outside the Brecilian Forest. "What happened? Why are you here, mama?"

Adaia's face was pensive, "Is that who you see me as? Your mother? Poor, sweet girl… do you not know where you are or how you got here?"

Her thoughts were hazy as she tried to remember how she'd been injured. The recollection of leering faces and rough hands came back in a rush, and her knees threatened to collapse as she remembered the human guards, their breath reeking of alcohol as they dragged her into the alley. She'd left the safety of the tunnels to return home, knowing her father would be worried if she wasn't back before supper. Zoya had been warned about wandering the Alienage alone after dark; she'd heard whisperings of young women going missing. She didn't know what these humans wanted with her, but it wasn't anything good.

An eerie numbness settled over her as she realized her spirit was in the Fade while her body was back in the living world with those men. She returned her attention to the creature in front of her, unable to hide the panic in her voice as she spoke. "Who are you? Why have you brought me here?" Adaia had warned her about talking to spirits in the Fade. Zoya wiped trembling, sweaty hands against the coarse cloth of her simple skirt.

"You may call me Anya. I am here to help you, my dear child - nothing more, nothing less. Your mother has not seen fit to teach you offensive magic." The spirit wearing her mother's form placed chilled hands on Zoya's shoulders. "If you are to endure this assault on your mortal body, you must not be afraid to use your magic to attack. Let rage and desire to live feed your power – they are powerful weapons."

Zoya fidgeted with the rough edge of her tunic's hem, unwilling to meet the spirit's eyes. "Mama says that spirits in the Fade never help without a price and to never to make deals with them." She scowled at the spirit and crossed her arms, hoping she looked braver than she felt. "I won't make any deals with you – I'd rather die than let you possess me."

The spirit's melodious laughter was startling in this silent place. "Is that defiance, child? So brave! If I wanted to possess you, you would not be able to prevent it." She shook her head sadly. "You misunderstand me - I ask no price. Not all spirits of the Fade seek to cause harm." Ice-cold lips pressed against Zoya's forehead, and with them, thoughts and images flooded her mind; the spirit's lessons were a nearly incoherent whirlwind in her head. "It is time for you to return to your mortal shell. If nothing else, remember this - be true to your heart and fight to survive."

The pain she felt in the Fade from her injuries didn't prepare her for the torment she suffered when she returned to her body. In addition to her other injuries, Zoya's eyes were so swollen she could hardly see; the weight of one armored guard kneeling on her arms and the other kneeling on her legs had turned her limbs into dead weight. The dampness of the cobbles seeped into her hair and clothing, the stench of blood, urine, and vomit filling her nose. She wondered how much of the filth was hers as she heard the guard holding down her arms speak in a gruff voice, "I think she's waking up."

The guard pinning her legs snarled, "Not for long." A gauntlet-covered fist crashed into her already injured cheek, slamming her head back into the cobbles below her.

"Hey – neither of us has had our turn yet, and I'd like her alive and kicking when I finally get mine." The guard at her head sniggered.

"I don't care what you want – I'm not letting her bite me again," the other guard growled. Zoya felt a sick satisfaction that the blood she tasted in her mouth was perhaps not just hers.

"Hurry up, already," the guard behind her head complained. She tensed as the other grunted in response. Zoya arched her back and twisted her torso when he shifted off her legs, hoping to somehow free herself as she tried to cry out, but her voice was little more than a croak. "Aww… I think she likes you." Again, the gauntlet slammed into her cheek.

Something inside her snapped, the terror turned quickly to rage. Her mother's voice sounded in her ear, "Do what you must to survive." She didn't bother to calm herself when she reached for her magic; she ripped open the Veil and let the power surge into her, willing it to twine with the white-hot fury already churning in her gut. Stoking the blaze into an inferno, she feared she'd explode from the pressure of containing it within her frail physical form.

Wrath's screaming cacophony filled her mind, and she released it full force into her attackers, nearly sobbing in relief as it burst forth. Armored bodies crashed into the stone walls of the alley; they screamed in terror until the din of rattling armor ended with a sickening crunch. Blessed silence and darkness blanketed her.

Zoya didn't know how much time passed before hurried footsteps approached where she lay in the damp filth of the alley. There was a gasp as cool fingers brushed against her neck, a distant voice hoarsely whispering her name. She tried to speak but only managed a strangled groan. Adaia's voice broke with near panic as she cried out. "Cyrion, Valendrian – I found her!"

Her father and Valendrian's heavier footsteps echoed in the alley. Cyrion dropped to Zoya's side, a trembling hand gently stroking her hair and his voice thick with emotion. "What kind of monster could do this? Will she be alright?"

Adaia's voice was strained, "I hope so – there's so much blood… please… we need to get her home..." Her voice cracked, "My baby… my poor, sweet little girl."

Valendrian's voice shook with fear, "What in Andraste's name happened here? What could have done this? It's like something crushed the guards inside their armor."

Adaia's voice was filled with wrath, "It's a far kinder fate than I would have granted them - may their spirits be flayed in the Void for an eternity."

Zoya gasped in pain, the darkness claiming her again as her father picked her up and cradled her in his arms. She awoke in her bed some time later to angry voices.

A human spoke in a deep, venomous voice, "Do not lie to me - the trail of blood and magic was easy enough to follow. Someone in this house used magic to murder those guards. Confess or I arrest you all – the choice is yours."

"I'm to blame." Adaia's voice was so quiet Zoya could barely hear her. "I'm a mage of the Ferelden Circle – I request I be returned there for determination of my punishment."

Valendrian spoke up, "Please ser, those guards viciously attacked this woman's daughter. Their death was self-defense. I suspect those very guards were responsible for other recent disappearances. Adaia is a valuable part of our community and has never used her magic for harm. Many in this Alienage owe their lives to her - surely you can afford some compassion. I beg you - let her heal her daughter before you take her away."

Zoya cringed as clanking of heavy armor approached her bed. "Maker's breath, how is she even alive? I'll stand watch as you heal this girl. Use your magic for ill, and I'll strike you down, mage." He snarled this last word like a curse, his voice filled with fear and hatred.

Adaia knelt on the bed, her healing magic soothing over Zoya's wounds and pushing her into slumber. Zoya licked at cracked lips, "My fault… I'm sorry…"

Adaia's voice shook with sadness and regret, "I'm the one who should be sorry. You only did what you must to survive. I promise I'll come back for you. I love you my darling girl." Zoya couldn't fight off sleep when it came for her.

Zoya angrily rubbed the tears from her cheeks, her hands tightening into fists as she glared up at the image of her mother. She thought she'd successfully buried the nightmarish memory, and having to relive it now threatened the fragile peace she'd made with her guilt. She found herself defaulting back to familiar coping mechanisms as she struggled to rebuild the ramshackle wall she'd erected over the last several years. Her voice dripped with sarcasm when she finally spoke. "Hello, Anya. How wonderful to see you again. It's been a long time since you last dragged me into the Fade. Any reason why you felt it was necessary to trap me here and force me to reopen old wounds?"

"Why so much venom, dear one? As before, I'm here to help you. Surely that is no cause for ire." The spirit gazed at Zoya calmly.

The spirit's composure only fed Zoya's anger; she shook as she fought to maintain control, her nails digging into the palms of her clenched fists and her voice deadly quiet. "I wouldn't call what you did 'help.' If I hadn't followed your advice and used magic to kill those men, my mother might still be alive. Where was your help when the Templars took her from me, when they brutalized her in front of me, when that beast bled her on the docks?" Zoya was surprised at the depth of her animosity toward the spirit.

Anya regarded her sadly, "Would you rather have died, child? That is what would have happened had I not intervened and had I encouraged you to help Adaia. She chose to sacrifice herself so that you might live. Why do you deny her gift to you?"

Zoya wrapped her arms tight around herself, "Maybe it would have been best if I had died." Try as she might, Zoya couldn't maintain her rage in the face of her mother's despair, even knowing the face it shadowed wasn't Adaia's. Zoya rubbed wearily at her temples, "So you've yanked me into the Fade to aid me again? What wonderful, invaluable counsel do you have for me this time?"

"Do not mock me child. Through my encouragement, you tapped into a potential you have barely begun to realize. You now need to find that strength again." The spirit tipped Zoya's chin up so their eyes met. "Your impetuous actions have lured demons into the realm of the living. Their presence in the physical world cannot be tolerated. You must repair the Veil to keep more from crossing over."

"And how am I supposed to repair the Veil?" Zoya attempted to pull her face free from the spirit, but Anya held her firm. It was disturbing to stare into the familiar eyes of her mother but have something else looking back at her.

"Much like your healing magic knitting flesh and bone, your affinity with the Fade will guide your magic to repair the Veil. Trust in your heart – do so and fear and doubt will no longer limit you." Anya pressed her cool forehead to Zoya's, the familiar feeling of thoughts and images flashing through her mind flooded her until quiet darkness finally descended.