"Don't kill me!" Finn bleated. "I'll... I'll talk!" He wasn't sure about what, but if he was talking, he was living.

Fenris paused, brow furrowing, but the three demons drifted up behind him. "He'll lie to save his own skin," one hissed. "He's obviously a scout for your master. Kill him!"

"Kill him quickly," another one put in. "Danarius will be close on his heels, and you must prepare."

Fenris half-twisted to look behind him. "I will face him on my own."

"You know you can't." The third, a woman, put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You know what will happen," she said, softly, sadly.

"No." Fenris brushed her off and reached down to drag Finn to his feet, then pinned him one-armed against the strange scaly bark of one of the trees. "No, this time... this time I will be strong. I will!"

"Xebenkeck, right?" Finn guessed, heart hammering in his chest. "Some tribal spirit or something they want you to invoke?"

"Spy!" cried one of the warriors. "He knows our plans, kill him quickly!"

"It's a demon," Finn blurted out, licking his lips nervously. "This is the Fade, it's a demon, it's -"

"He's babbling. Just end this so we can prepare! There isn't much time!"

To Finn's horror, Fenris nodded. He shut his eyes tightly as he saw the elf **** his fist back, and said in a rush words he prayed would jog a memory loose, give the lie to this Fade fantasy: "Danarius is dead, you were there, arrows in the chest and throat, Kirkwall docks, Hawke -"

"Hawke." The low voice was a snarl.

Finn risked opening his eyes. Fenris's were narrowed, looking at Finn but somehow turned inward. "Hawke! Yes! You want to kill Hawke! She gave you to Danarius, but he's dead, and now she's trying to give you to this demon!"

"Does it matter?" The demonic chorus changed its tune. "If not Danarius, someone else will come to claim you."

"Using blood magic."

"You're weak. You'll fall."

Fenris jerked back as if on a string. "No." He rounded on the demons, but his face held as much fear as rage. "No!"

"You know it's true," said the gentle one. "It's not your fault. The mages did this to you, made you helpless before them... but we can make you strong."

"Stronger than the mages."

"Strong," Finn said quietly, "is telling them 'no.'"

Fenris rounded on him. "You know nothing of this!"

"I beg your pardon!" Somehow, Finn still managed to find a scrap of indignation to hold onto when his credentials were called into question. "They're demons trying to convince you to abominate. As a mage, I do indeed know something about this."

"But it's true," the elf rasped, running a hand through his pale hair. "He came for me here, and I went. In Kirkwall, I... went. I'm... I'm not strong enough."

"You realize that it'll give you power, but utterly destroy your will, don't you?" Finn asked. "You won't have to be strong because Xebenkeck will be strong for you. You're not even in the picture at that point! Just a walking meat sock for some demon in your head!"

Fenris looked at him, looked at the demons. "But... they will come for me. I need to be able to -"

How was this not getting through? "Look, I'm not even using big words!" But... but maybe the wrong words? What would hit home for a former magister's - "You'll just be a thrall to the demon! Do you understand that?" By the way Fenris's head came up, he did. Restate, summarize, Maker please, end debate and win! "It's just a different kind of slavery and you'll be allowing it."

Wide green eyes fixed on him for a moment, and fear faded into grim resolve. A brief nod, and then Fenris flung himself at the dark-skinned warriors. Finn assisted, aid becoming more necessary when shades dressed like Tevinter soldiers came crashing through the jungle. In the end, it was just the two of them, halfway across the clearing from each other and breathing hard.

Finn waited - for an apology, perhaps, or thanks - but Fenris only straightened, put up his sword and -

- where? how? -

Ostagar. The ancient white stones reared up in familiar formations, and Finn was surprised to be hit with a pang of homesickness. No, no, ridiculous - the Circle was home. But this must be either Ariane or Vashti's dream, he thought.

Ostagar - but not. Beyond the bones of the ancient fortress he knew jutted new towers, joined by slender, gracefully arching bridges and crowned with beaten gold. And the place was a-bustle, not with the few traders who came so far south to haggle for Dalish bows or furs, but with elves, scores of them in robes, in gowns, in armor, going about the business of a thriving, living city.

Finn swallowed. He didn't know Fenris except as an overly dramatic source of spitting anger; seeing his fears had been impersonal, a puzzle to be solved at high speed to save his life. Destroying this dream... this would be harder.

It's false, he reminded himself, scanning the crowd for a familiar face. She'll thank you for it later. Unless it was Vashti, in which case she'd probably punch him and glower sullenly, but...

But it didn't look like it was Vashti. The crowd parted for what had to be someone's idea of a war-halla. Silvery white with wicked horns, as large as an elk, it danced lightly through the courtyard, guided without bit or bridle. Elves to either side called out gladly to the rider, offering congratulations and good wishes. Ariane, her usual armor lacquered with a layer of shining green enamel, waved back, beaming. Finn hesitated, then waved. "Ariane! Ariane!"

She looked up and saw him; the halla danced back. "Ariane, I need to talk with you," he called, trying to make his way through the crowd.

"A shemlen?" "A shemlen!" "What's he doing here?" "Call the guard, someone!"

"Finn," Ariane raised her voice to reply, still at a distance, "you need to get back to the fortress gates."

"There's trouble, we need to -"

"Finn, I can't." He saw her drop one hand to her belly, and her gentle smile was an arrow to his gut. "I'm with child. I never thought..." Finn's stomach rolled at the wrongness of this. It had never occurred to him to wonder if either of his elvhen traveling companions wanted children, much less felt the lack. To suddenly know this about Ariane, and knowing that it was a lie...

"I'll sequester until her birth at least," his friend went on, the halla still back-stepping. "You and Vashti will have to handle it without me this time, I'm afraid."

That was why she was keeping her distance - trying to keep his quick blood away from the mythical unborn child, in the perpetual Dalish hope of achieving undying life. Maker... how did you argue with that? Ariane was a fiercely devoted protector, her life as an allan'isa tied to guarding the clan's mages from demonic influence. Certainly, she'd protect what she thought was her own child no less? And no doubt any moment now, some menace would be along to threaten this idyllic new Arlathan, and help would be offered with the name Xebenkeck...

Allan'isa protect from demons, a demon's trap in the Fade, Fade logic and templar senses... "There's an abomination loose! Here in the courtyard!" Finn shouted desperately.

"What?" Ariane startled, staring at him, and the war-halla reared, trumpeting with alarm.

"An abomination! You have to stop it!"

Her two swords slid free of their scabbards. "Where?"

Everywhere. "I don't know!"

"He's mistaken." Something that looked like Keeper Solan materialized by the stag's flank. "Ariane, something terrible is coming, the Council needs you to come -"

She looked at her Keeper, one of the mages she was especially sworn to defend, and she looked at Finn. Emerald-armored elf-demons were finally shouldering through the crowd, making to drag the quick-blooded creature out to the gates. He glanced at them quickly, at a loss - if he attacked them 'without reason,' dream logic would just insist that he was the abomination. "Trust me!" he called as one enameled green gauntlet fastened on his shoulder. "Dirthamen's Call, that'll reveal it!"

She paused, confused, for one eternal second, before bringing her arms in and then reaching out, spirit commanding that the knots of magic be revealed and undone.

The courtyard, the fortress, even the distant towers - they rippled as if they were reflections on the surface of a still pond that had been disturbed by a pebble. Ariane jerked back. "What was... that's not..."

"We're in the Fade!" Finn shouted. It was the right answer at the right time, and the dream shattered in the face of Ariane's disbelief.

...Which left Finn in the grip of four demons who no longer had to pretend to be law-abiding guardsmen dragging him to the gates.

Close-quarters combat was no place for a mage to be, even in the Fade. It didn't matter how much power Finn could access if he couldn't shape it, and with one wrist caught in viselike talons, half his repertoire was off the table. He threw out a bolt of pure energy, striking one demon, but the claws of three others raked him. Something growled, much too close to his neck for comfort; when he flinched away, turning his head, he saw distended jaws gnawing ineffectively on Vera, straining toward his throat. He screamed and gave it a bolt to the face but something else pierced his side and he briefly wondered if this would kill him or leave him Tranquil...

"I am the sword of my fathers!" He heard the war-cry a split-second before he saw the blades, tearing through one of the demons clutching him. Finn jerked, struggling to get away as Ariane attacked. He only succeeded in pitching himself backwards onto the floor; fortunately for him, three of the demons were focused on the more deadly, armed threat.

Unfortunately for him, that left one determined to finish its job. Fire blossomed, burning away the repulsion glyph he was trying to shape in his mind, pain washing over his face and arms. He let out a shuddering sob, because ithurt, and managed another energy bolt. It wasn't the spell he wanted to cast, but the concentration for anything more elegant or useful was lost to him. It lifted a taloned arm back for a massive swing -

- and was abruptly without an arm. The thing actually stopped to gape in surprise, and Finn saw the tip of Ariane's father's blade poke through its chest. The sword disappeared with a jerk, and the demon collapsed to one side. Ariane stood behind it, face streaked with tears, teeth bared in a vicious grimace.

Finn grabbed some threads of will and managed to weave a healing spell for them both as his friend dropped to her knees, swords clattering to the ground. She lowered her face into her hands and Finn said, "I'm so sorry," but he was already being pulled away...