"Xebenkeck!"

Vashti squinted against the sudden brilliant light; when it faded, she saw Ariane and Fenris disentangling themselves from the abomination's body; Finn bent over Merrill's prone form; the surface of the eluvian boiling like a cauldron.

The eluvian. She let her bow fall, drawing her knifes. Duncan had destroyed it so, once. It might be clean of the darkspawn taint now, but if the great demon had bent it to her aims, then…

No, one last use. It went to Xebenkeck's domain? Then let her return there. Cast the amulet through the mirror, banish the demon past where any mortal might unleash her.

She pivoted towards the mages. Merrill looked dead, but she had no tears for the former First. Giving her life here, to undo some small measure of the harm she had done, was a measure of justice. Finn, bent over his hand in pain, tried to help her - that was his nature. Every thing that lived carried its own secrets, and no one who followed Dirthamen's path could bear to see those lost.

Would he try to stop her from destroying the eluvian? Vashti quickened her step, intent on the bloody amulet in Merrill's hand -

A spring breeze brushed her cheek, and the very earth around her seemed to sigh. "Finn!" Ariane screamed, off to her left. "No!"

Vashti's head snapped on reflex toward Ariane when she shouted, then back to Finn. His eyes opened, shining gold-white, and light like the morning dawn spilled out from his fingertips. The allan'isa had sensed it first, but now it was evident to all: Finn was possessed.

The Grey Warden raised her blades in front of her - and hesitated. Long experience screamed that she should strike quickly, strike hard, before the abomination had a chance to turn and unleash its power. But… but…

He is strong, she had told Fenris. Why would he fall now, after their victory?

"I am the sword -!" The rest of Ariane's battlecry choked off in a sob, but the allan'isa showed no uncertainty in her actions. It had taken her a moment to reclaim the blades she had dropped to wrestle Hawke, but now she dashed forward to perform her solemn duty as a mage-protector. Fenris, growling foreign curses, kept stride with her, his greatsword raised.

Finn - no, the abomination rose in a swift, graceful motion, and Vashti knew her uncertainty had cost them all. Bright white light exploded in the dim room, dazzling her eyes and disorienting her. She heard twin metallic crashes as Ariane and Fenris staggered and, she presumed, fell.

She took one breath and then another, head still spinning, and wondered why she was still alive to wonder.

"Vashti Mahariel." It was Finn's voice, but it wasn't - something else was laced under and through it. She turned, trying to pinpoint it, and the simple motion made her stumble. "We met in paths Beyond," the voice continued, "and spoke of the way things are, rather than the way you would like for them to be. I came to help; having given assistance, I will depart."

She remembered - the cruel spirit of Truth who had, nonetheless, kept her from harming Finn or giving herself over to the demon. It had appeared to protect Finn - so it could do this to him, now? And then - go? It didn't make sense, and that made her suspect a demonic motive. "Why? What did you do?" she asked.

"I healed the dying mortal. She turned toward an unpleasant Truth and embraced it, when most mortals would become more obstinate in clinging to Falsehood. And…" The spirit paused, barely. "Finn wished that she be healed. These things swayed me."

"Lies," Vashti heard Fenris grind out. It sounded as if he and Ariane had unsteadily regained their feet.

"Never," the spirit said coldly.

And the light went out.

Finn sighed; in the sudden darkness, Vashti could just barely make out the whites of his eyes rolling up as he crumpled to the floor next to Merrill, who was herself stirring.

Swaying on unsure feet, the two warriors drew closer. "What just happened?" Ariane asked, still very much on her guard.

Fenris was more than on his guard. Vashti judged that he held his blade in check only because she stood poised to intercept it with her dar'missu. "What happened is that the mage fell. After all that has happened here, why do you hesitate? He may have been your friend, but is no longer. Kill him!"

"I did meet a spirit while we were imprisoned Beyond," Vashti said slowly, "and she gave me aid. She is one Finn has met before, as a spirit healer."

"I've never heard of an abomination… unabominating like this." Ariane's agreement was still cautious as she looked down at Finn. "It could have done us great harm while we were stunned, but it didn't."

"Or it could be lying within him, waiting to return at another time." Fenris cut the air with one clawed gauntlet. "We have seen this, here in Kirkwall - subtle demons who ride their hosts without physical changes, until they judge the proper moment to attack."

"Did it work?" asked a groggy voice from the floor. Finn pulled himself up to a sitting position, then froze at the sight of the ring of steel around him. "Ah. Right. I, ehm, I thought this might happen."

"I don't sense anything amiss," Ariane said, brow creasing.

"You wouldn't," Fenris insisted. "Not even the Chantry templars can tell when a mage is possessed."

"I feel myself," Finn put in. "For whatever that's worth." He laughed, a nervous sound without humor in it. "...Not much, probably."

"Look around you! These are the consequences of inactivi-" Fenris broke off, eyes narrowing, when Vashti began to make a rough, wet noise, deep in the back of her throat. "Warden, what -?"

She turned and spat - on Finn, catching him right on the temple and cheek. He shrieked as if he'd been hit with acid. "Oh. Oh!" he cried in disgust. "And now it's dripping! That's - why? -" He lifted a hand - healed now, Vashti saw, perfectly pink through the hole in the fox-furred glove - to wipe at it, then clearly thought the better of it. "Handkerchief," he muttered, searching the pockets on his belt for the item. "Was that really necessary?"

"Yes," Vashti said, not hiding a small smile. She caught Ariane's eye. "Flesh is flesh. Never yet met a demon that was disgusted by one kind of flesh but not another."

"Next time, just kill me," Finn muttered, scrubbing at his face.

Ariane put up her swords and grinned. "Glad to have to back, Finn."

"This is reckless." Fenris's brands pulsed in the dim room. "You don't know."

"I can know." Merrill hadn't moved, but at some point during the proceedings had opened her eyes. "It's in the blood. Blood, blood magic, spirits… demons… they're connected." She sat up, slowly. "Would that satisfy you, Fenris?"

"I don't trust you not to lie."

Merrill shook her head, but Finn interrupted before she could reply. "I… I'd rather if she didn't? I think Vera has returned to the Fade, but… if not… well. We'd best know now." He swallowed audibly.

"I just need a little blood," Merrill said, extending a hand. "Just as a component, to examine… I won't be using it for magic."

"I'm, uh… familiar with the concept." Finn removed a glove, put his hand in Merrill's, and closed his eyes.

Vashti watched the simple ritual proceed with her hands tight on the hilts of her weapons. If what Merrill said was true - and from what she understood of blood and magic, it made sense - then they would be fools not to make utterly sure of Finn. Even the mage himself agreed. But…

How dare she help. It was, again, fitting, since Finn had allowed the possession on her behalf. But she shouldn't be helpful or kind, as if that could make up for what she had done. The many dead still demanded justice.

"You're fine," Merrill said, after another moment. Finn sighed with relief; growling, glowering, Fenris finally sheathed his weapon. "Thank you," she told Finn, pressing his hand before she released it. "That was very risky, especially…" She looked up at Vashti. "Considering everything else. You probably shouldn't have gone to the trouble."

"About that." Finn clambered to his feet, straightened his collar, and proposed, "She's saved us twice, Vashti, and bound the demon. Don't you think -"

"The demon." The Warden sheathed one dagger and put out a hand; Merrill made a soft "oh!" before reaching up to deposit the talisman into it. "This first."

"What are you going to do with it?" Ariane asked.

"Send it back where it came from."

The surface of the eluvian had calmed. A few small ripples chased each other across its surface as she approached, but that was all. It was as deceptively placid as it had been on that long-ago summer day.

What would have happened, had she not found it? Merrill would have had no reason to learn blood magic; the clan would still be alive. Tamlen would not have died in madness as he did. She would not be fated to die a mile from the sun, darkspawn taint burning in her blood. Not be tainted, befouled, impure and exiled.

She hadn't chosen any of that. This thing, the eluvian, had inflicted it on her.

The embers of her anger over that injustice, always banked and burning, roared up in a heat of rage. She hurled the talisman through the shimmering surface, and followed with a strike that tried to kill eight years of pain and loss. The eluvian's surface went dull and grey, then shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces.

There remained just one task to complete here.

Merrill debated the relative merit of standing up. On the one hand, it would be more dignified. On the other hand, 'not dead' was still quite a way from 'feeling well,' and the ground was rather comforting in its solidity.

Above her head, Fenris argued - of course he did - with the other mage, Finn. "And I say that for years, I have seen the witch be nothing other than arrogant, foolhardy, and dangerously stubborn. Do you think a few hours of good intentions," he spat the words, "are enough to convince me that she is no longer a threat, to herself or to others?"

"Well, she's got to start somewhere, hasn't she? And I think nearly killing herself makes a pretty good case for her motivation!"

She closed her eyes and sighed when she heard the eluvian shatter, across the room. Xebenkeck had twisted it to her own ends, of course, and since Audacity had never given her good information to start with, she had no way of repairing it… Even if it was for the best, it was hard to know that the one possible good thing that might have come out of all of this was now just a pile of junk.

"Please stop," she interrupted the two men as Mahariel, grim-faced, returned to loom over her. "It's all right. I… I accept the judgement of the People." She took a deep breath and tried to blink away the tears that threatened to form. "The Keeper is dead. My clan is dead, and it's my fault."

"Vashti -"
"Warden -"

Mahariel held up a hand to silence both men. "I know what you think," she pointed to Finn, "and I know what you think," she pointed to Fenris. She looked at the allan'isa, Ariane, and asked, "What do you think?"

Ariane seemed surprised to be asked, and looked away for a moment. "I'm… not sure what I think," she said slowly. "I promised you Elgar'nan's vengeance on the murderers, and I will stand by that promise. But I confess that I was not expecting to find repentance." She studied Merrill, who bore the scrutiny without expression. Having said that she would accept judgement, she wasn't going to beg them for one outcome or another. "Mythal teaches us mercy; Elgar'nan, revenge. I'm… I'm not sure where the path to justice lies. I leave it to you. They were your family."

Merrill shifted her attention to Mahariel. Her clan-kin's face was dark and stony, and surely clouded with memories of all the dead on Sundermount. It was not an expression that spoke of forgiveness. "Just… just let me stand, first," Merrill said. "Please."

There came a pause, and then Mahariel extended a hand down to her. Merrill took it and found herself roughly hauled to her feet, inches from the Warden. "Ir abelas," she said, expecting the short prayer of regret and sorrow to stand as her last words.

But no cold blade came between her ribs. Eyes narrowed, mouth contorted in a snarl, Mahariel rapped out: "Merrill. Welcome. To the Grey Wardens."