Finn tried, as best he could, to pay attention to what happened when he stepped through the eluvian. They might never find another one; even if they found another, who knew if they would be able to operate it? This could be his one chance to observe and personally experience one of the lost magics of Arlathan.

The violet surface rippled; against his skin, it felt more like cool, smooth glass than water. Unconsciously, he held his breath as his nose hit it. If glass could part like water, this did, and he passed forward into darkness - which ended as soon as he opened his eyes, arms and legs flailing as he abruptly transitioned from 'upright, walking' to 'on the ground, prone.' And above him, straddling one of his legs with one dirty boot planted carelessly on the robe between his legs, was the abomination. Red-violet light winked from underneath her half-closed eyelids, reflecting purple on the shimmering blue lyrium dribbling down her chin. She had his bottle, the big one, the one for the binding ritual, tipped to her mouth, drinking greedily.

Finn stared for a second, which was a second too long. The others started awake as well, armor scraping and clanging, and the abomination looked up sharply, throwing the remainder of the bottle to the side where ismashed into the stone wall and shattered. She raised one hand to wipe at her mouth and Finn saw it - the amulet! He'd managed to grab the piece Vashti had shot from around her neck and fit the three fragments together before everything had gone wrong. He'd grab it and get clear, and then Ariane could unleash holy fury on this thing.

"A pity," Xebenkeck said, as Finn lunged up, hand closing around the amulet - and then Vashti's arrow pierced his hand. He screamed - and screamed again when the world went white and half his mana burned away. He fell back to the ground, amulet nailed to his hand, and Xebenkeck sprawled over his feet. He was dimly aware of someone dragging him back, away from the abomination, as Ariane and Fenris converged on the spot.

Of course. Too dazed to be terrified, he was calm enough to think it through; it all made perfect sense. Vashti'd tried the same sharp-shooting trick she had when they entered; he just got in her line of fire. Either Ariane decided smiting the abomination was worth catching him in the area, or she was quick to realize there was no way he was casting anything with an injury like this.

That was going to be a problem, wasn't it?

He stopped sliding, and Merrill suddenly dropped into view at his side. "Guess it's a good thing you didn't kill me after all," she said, lifting his wounded hand without quite the care he would have liked. She manipulated the amulet, trying to wiggle it free of the arrowhead and making him yelp as pain jolted up his arm. "Sorry," she apologized, with a genuinely penitent glance. "But we haven't time for gentleness." She worked the amulet free and stood, drawing a small knife with her other hand. Finn looked away, back to the battle, not wanting to see the blade draw blood.

Blood. Blood magic. His confused thoughts were lining back up into some semblance of order. It was critically important that Xebenkeck not just catch them all with the same horrible burning spell she had used before. Or any spell.

They didn't have to kill her - she would likely simply animate the corpse anyway. That's why they were doing the binding; simple physical violence wouldn't solve this problem. They just had to keep her from using magic. As the throbbing pain in his hand attested, there were plenty of ways to do that.

"Get her on the ground!" he shouted. "Like the dog!" Vashti's mabari, having no concern about dropping weapons or losing his footing by dropping to the floor, often rushed enemy mages and knocked them to the ground. It was usually a stupid thing for the armed warriors to do, since wrestling one opponent made you an easy target for any other enemies, but in this case...

"Dog?" Fenris snarled. Why was this mage trifling with insults when they had more important things to do?

But beside him, Ariane dropped her twin blades and sprang for the abomination. Get her on the ground - grapple her, keep her physically contained. Hawke staggered, but even if the elf was stronger, the human was larger.

Then Ariane swept her feet, and she went down. Fenris paused, readying his weapon. If the Dalish elf could hold
her still for even a moment, one well-placed thrust might end all of this.

It would not be so easy. The demon evidently lent strength to the mage's soft body, giving her the advantage on the elven warrior in mass and power, if not in skill. They thrashed on the ground; but still, if he were careful, judging the trajectory of her movements...

He drew on the power of his brands, the exceptional speed and accuracy they granted him. The greatsword darted forward like a duelist's stiletto, unnaturally swift, piercing Hawke from under one arm, through the chest, to under the other.

Everything stopped for a moment; the red-violet light under her skin flickered, even as his brands surged with blue-white power. "Na via lerno victoria," he hissed, his thrust forward having brought him close to her face. [i]Only the living know victory[/i] - and the victory was his. He stood before the blood mage and struck true. It was not so hard, after all.

Her head lolled toward him, rolling loose on her neck. Then it twisted, at an impossible angle, and Hawke's face split in a rictus grin. "'Na via'? And what do you know of life, little mayfly?" Eyes shining with infernal light, the abomination stood, wrenching his blade from his hands. "Of life, of mysteries, of pain or of power?" Fenris watched in shock as the sword slipped slowly free to clatter on the ground. Blood followed in a great crimson gout, and he could feel, in his brands, the blood magic kindling…

Ariane lunged up, crashing into what had been Hawke, bearing the both of them to the ground. Fenris looked away briefly - past the archer who stood, arrow to string, eyes darting between the battle, the trembling surface of the eluvian, and - there, the mages. "Hurry!" he shouted, before lunging to reclaim his sword.

A sense of irritation - Does he think we're dawdling? - flitted briefly across Merrill's mind, but it was more critical to maintain focus on this ritual. That was… that was becoming more difficult, as she was feeling light-headed, and the edges of her vision were getting dark. The room swayed - or maybe she did - but she chanted the spell deliberately, with every ounce of the stubborn determination that had taken her every step down this path.

More life-force ebbed away to power the spell - it was nearly done, almost there - and she dropped to one knee. Easier that way, it would spoil everything if she fell down, wouldn't it?

The world narrowed to her own voice, the texture of the amulet in her bloody hand, and Xebenkeck. Then: an unwanted interruption, another hand, larger, pierced through and bleeding, thrust into the edges of her vision. "You have to finish," the human mage said, as if she weren't already aware of that. "T-take some. Just… not all? Please?"

Tempting. Freely offered. I could… no. Merrill shook her head slowly, not ceasing her incantation. No. She had gotten this far without falling to that trap, as they all said she would. She had enough to do this herself.

"I'm not doing anything else useful! You have to finish the ritual - if you need more power, take it!"

Just enough.

She sagged a little closer to the ground, supporting herself with one hand. The other held the completed amulet aloft as she chanted the demon's name three times: "Xebenkeck." The first lobe flashed, a white-violet light, and the pool of blood around her - my goodness, is all that mine? - suddenly roiled, sublimating into red vapor as the collected energies knit together into the shape of the spell. The abomination screamed.

"Xebenkeck." Finn could barely make out the dark metal of the holy symbol through the thick, roiling red cloud now, but the second flash of light was easily seen. Xebenkeck dislodged Fenris with a gutteral shout and tried to struggle to her feet; Ariane clawed and grappled frantically to keep her at least one arm pinioned.

"Xebenkeck!"

Bright white light flooded the room, blinding Finn. The abomination shrieked, but the sound was nearly drowned out by a great rushing, as if the Waking Sea itself were rushing down the tunnels to drown them. Neither compared to enormity of the spell itself, a release of power that shuddered the whisper-thin Veil about them and sent the lurking demons scurrying for safer harbors.

When his vision cleared, he saw that Merrill lay prone, unconscious, on the floor.

The others converged on Marian Hawke, Fenris growling something about betrayal and justice. Finn thumped down on the ground next to Merrill, fingers reaching for a pulse. It was there, barely, thready and fading. But he was in time, he could...

He couldn't. He needed both hands for that spell, and one currently had an arrow through it.

So get it out. Panic rising, Finn jerked the arrow free and promptly doubled over around his hand. Maker, it hurt but maybe now... But no. His fingers barely twitched when he focused on moving them, pain and injury preventing him from performing the correct articulations.

She was going to die, and he couldn't do a single thing about it.

I can. The voice was so clear, so near, he thought that if he turned around he might see her there, with her lamp and her glassless mirror in hand. Vera.

"I can't channel right now!" Finn shook his head. "I have the power, I just can't shape it!"

I can save her. You must let me into your mind.

"Let you...?" Finn's eyes widened. Let her possess him? Like the redoubtable Brother Genitivi wrote that the witches of Rivain did? Like Anders had allowed his spirit to do?

What if it went wrong? What if it wasn't actually the spirit of Truth? He'd been dogged by demons ever since they got to Kirkwall, whispers in his mind day and night - maybe this was just another trick, a new way to get him to say 'yes.'

What would the others do, if they saw him start to glow like Anders had? They'd probably try to kill him, and they'd be smart to do it. And... well... wasn't Vashti probably going to kill Merrill anyway?

But she saved them. Twice. It hardly seemed fair to just give up when maybe he could...

A dozen old lectures on the perils of listening to demons, on how they'd prey on minds torn by guilt or anger or fear, on how sometimes [i]people just died[/i], and on how a healer would have to accept that Entropy was the natural twin to Creation echoed in his memory. But Vera wasn't a demon; she was a spirit. But... "How do I know you're really Vera?" he asked.

You cannot know.

And that decided him.

With a psychic shudder, Finn demolished a mental wall that had been decades in the making. A demon, he thought, would have tried to reassure with a lie. Truth could only acknowledge that there was no
foolproof way for him to proceed on knowledge alone. It would take trust.

Or maybe faith.

"You may enter."