Thank you to my beta reader and resident comma expert, WellspringCD, and to everyone who is reading, especially those who comment. Comments do me no end of good!

Fearghal awoke to the sound of voices. Someone shook his arm.

"Fearghal, wake up!" Wynne's voice tugged at him

Fearghal struggled to open his eyes. His head felt woolly, his body drained. An image of sitting under a tree with Rory flashed into his mind and he pushed it away automatically, even though it didn't produce the usual pain. Fearghal sighed, frowning; he felt oddly... flat. He sat up and looked around him. A wrinkled, fleshy mess was all that was left of the demon they'd defeated in the Fade. Nearby lay a mage, he looked as if he was asleep.

"Why hasn't he woken up, like us?" asked Fearghal.

Wynne shook her head sadly. "He was in the sloth demon's thrall for too long, poor Niall."

Morrigan bent over the mage, rifling through his robes. "I met him in the Fade. He said he had a spell that would help to resist the blood mages, The Litany of... "

"The Litany of Adralla?" exclaimed Wynne. "That would be useful indeed. It interrupts the casting of mind control spells."

Fearghal climbed wearily to his feet as Morrigan withdrew a rolled scroll from the mages robes. She stood and handed it to him. He merely grunted as he took it from her and tucked it into his armour.

"Which way to the Harrowing Chamber?" asked Fearghal.

Wynne pointed to a door at the far side of the hall and Fearghal headed towards it. Wynne caught up with him.

"Are you all right, Fearghal?" she asked him quietly.

"I'm fine," he snapped. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and saw the disbelief on her face. "I just feel a bit... drained, somehow."

Wynne nodded. "Your dream was particularly vivid; I think the demon must have used a lot of your life force to create it." She murmured and sent a stream of rejuvenating magic flowing through him.

Fearghal stood a little taller as his languor diminished. "Thank you," he acknowledged grudgingly.

It didn't take them long to reach the Harrowing Chamber, there were few demons left in the tower. As they reached the end of the corridor they could see that the room beyond was filled with a strange glow. Fearghal looked at the others questioningly but they just shrugged back at him. All readied themselves as Fearghal stepped through the door, his shield raised. Ahead of them, at the bottom of the stair to the Harrowing Chamber, was a templar enclosed in a large glowing bubble of energy.

As the group stepped into the room the templar sobbed and fell to his knees. "Enough visions!" he begged. "If anything in you is human... kill me now and stop this game."

Alistair approached the bubble, his heart thumping hard in his chest. He dropped to one knee before the templar. "Cullen?"

"You! Always they show me you!" he howled. "Filthy blood mages... getting in my head... I will not break... I'd rather die!"

Alistair flushed, but tried again. "Cullen, calm down. You're safe now."

"Silence!" screamed Cullen before starting to sob. "I'll n-not listen to an-anything you s-say." He groaned and sunk his head in his hands, struggling for control. Steadying himself, he climbed to his feet. "Now begone!" he commanded.

Alistair stood too. He looked back helplessly at the others.

"Still here? But that's always worked before." breathed Cullen in wonder.

"I'm real," Alistair assured him. "It's me, Alistair. Do you remember me?"

Cullen grimaced. "Yes, I remember you!" he snapped. "They used to call you... Lord Alistair," he sniggered nastily.

Alistair stepped back as if he'd been burned, his face flushing.

Fearghal had been watching the exchange curiously. He saw the hurt flare in Alistair's eyes at the templar's jibe.

He stepped forward. "If you two have quite finished... reminiscing. I'm Fearghal, a Grey Warden like Alistair. We're here to help you."

"Did Greagoir send you? How... how did you get here?"

"We came to ask the Tower to honour their treaty to aid the Wardens. Where are the surviving mages?"

Cullen pointed to the Harrowing Chamber. "In there, with Uldred. You have to kill him; kill them all for what they've done." His face twisted in anger. "They caged us like animals, looking for ways to break us. I'm the only one left. They turned some into... monsters. There was nothing I could do!"

"Where are Irving and the other mages?" repeated Fearghal.

Cullen looked confused. "What others? What are you talking about?"

"Irving and the other mages who fought Uldred. Where are they?" asked Wynne.

"They're all in the Chamber. The sounds coming out of there... oh, Maker... " sobbed Cullen.

"We must hurry," urged Wynne. "They are in grave danger."

"You can't save them. You don't know what they've become," protested Cullen.

Fearghal frowned. "I don't understand."

"They've been surrounded by b-blood m-mages whose wicked fingers snake into your mind and corrupt your thoughts," screamed Cullen throwing himself against the barrier and bouncing off it. "You must kill them, kill them all! You can't risk a blood mage surviving. It's the only way!"

"I am not going to slaughter everyone in there without even knowing what's going on," argued Fearghal.

Fearghal shook his head. Arguing with this half-crazed templar was fruitless. He headed up the steps to the Harrowing Chamber and hesitated at the door, turning to the others.

"Ready?" he asked. At their nods and murmurs of assent he pushed the door open and started up the stairs that lay beyond. The chamber at the top of the tower was huge. Several mages lay or sat on the floor, clearly exhausted. At the far side of the chamber stood the bald mage that Fearghal remembered from the war council.

Uldred smiled wolfishly at them. "I bid you welcome. Care to join in our... revels?"

"Uldred." said Fearghal, his face flat.

"Oh, very observant," sneered the mage. "I'm quite impressed you're still alive. Unfortunately, that must mean you killed my servants."

"Every last one of them," agreed Fearghal. "And now we're here to kill you, Uldred."

The mage laughed. "Uldred? He is gone. I am Uldred and yet not Uldred. I am more than he was." He sighed petulantly. "Oh, fight if you must. It will just make my victory all the sweeter."

Fearghal drew his shield and sword from his back as the mage shimmered in front of him, then transformed into something monstrous. The creature was huge, at least as big as an ogre. Fearghal took an involuntary step back. Several abominations descended on the group.

"Alistair! Your turn to dance, I think!" yelled Fearghal. "I'll entertain his friends. Morrigan, with me!" Fearghal smashed his shield into the face of an abomination, sending it staggering backwards. He plunged his sword into what passed for its torso.

A blow from behind him sent Fearghal stumbling forwards, fighting to stay on his feet. As he turned to face the abomination that had struck him he heard Wynne shout, "The Litany, use it now!"

Fearghal sprinted past the abomination to the far side of the chamber, fumbling for the scroll he'd stuffed into his armour. He yanked it free and shook it out, then gaped at it; it was written in some strange language he'd never seen before. The remaining abominations caught up with him and one of them ripped the scroll from his hand. As it did so, the Litany burst into flames at its touch. Fearghal howled in frustration, swinging his shield at the thing's head. He felt a crunch of bone as his shield connected and the creature's skull collapsed.

The third abomination suddenly froze, coated in ice, and Fearghal smashed his shield against it, shattering it. Fearghal turned and headed towards the huge demon in the centre of the chamber. Alistair was holding his own against the towering creature, thanks to Wynne's help. Bane had sunk his teeth into one of its legs and hung on doggedly. Out of the corner of his eye Fearghal saw something move. One of the mages transformed before his eyes into yet another abomination. It started to shamble towards Wynne and Morrigan.

Yelling a warning, Fearghal ran across the chamber, desperate to get between the abomination and the mages. Morrigan looked up and cast a spell at the abomination. Fearghal wasn't sure what it was but the creature slowed considerably and he was able to kill it easily. He looked round and saw light pulsing around yet another mage at the side of the room. He ran towards it, reaching it as it transformed. Before it even had a chance to move he swing his shield, knocking it off balance. He followed up with several more swings finally knocking it to the ground; he thrust his sword through its neck.

Flickering, pulsing light alerted him and he turned and watched helplessly as the last mage, an old man, transformed into an abomination. Raging with frustrated fury, he ran across to it and skewered it on his sword. He looked back at the centre of the room. The huge demon was slowing, Bane had torn the back of one leg to ribbons and it moved unsteadily, fighting to stay upright. Fearghal felt a surge of energy pulse through him and silently thanked Wynne. With a roar, he raced across the chamber and sank his sword through the demon's leg. With a shriek of pain, it started to topple. Alistair leaped back and, as it hit the floor, buried his blade in its throat.

"The Litany, why didn't you use it?" demanded Wynne angrily.

Fearghal bridled. "I would have done if I'd been able to read it!" he snarled.

Wynne's eyes widened in surprise. "It was written in Arcanum?" She looked crestfallen. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise... "

"It's too late now," growled Fearghal.

The group swung around at a noise from the stairs. Cullen climbed them unsteadily. He reached the top and stared around the chamber.

"You did it," he murmured. "I feel almost sorry for them, but it had to be done."

"No it didn't," snapped Wynne. "We failed, but at least this is over."

"I've had enough of this tower. It's time to leave," said Fearghal.

Cullen nodded. "Greagoir will want to know that the situation has been resolved. I'm sure he'll be very pleased."

Fearghal snorted and strode across the chamber.

The journey down the tower was much faster than their slow two-day progress up it. Fearghal hammered on the great metal door, yelling, "It's the Grey Wardens. The revolt is over and the tower is cleared."

After a moment the door opened to reveal Greagoir. "Where is your proof, Warden? I will not risk leaving the doors open."

"Will you believe one of your own men?"

Cullen stepped forward. "Accept my word as proof, ser. All the mages are dead."

Greagoir nodded. "Very well, Cullen."

He looked past Fearghal, Alistair and Cullen. "Wynne, I am sure you were instrumental in resolving the situation in the tower. You have always been a respected member of the Circle and it is now in need of a first enchanter. I can think of no-one more suitable for this position. Will you accept it?"

Wynne chuckled grimly. "As I am the only senior enchanter left, your options seems to be limited. However, I can't accept. I have no desire to spend the rest of my life tiptoeing around the Chantry. If they will have me, I would prefer to remain in the company of the Grey Wardens."

Alistair and Fearghal both whirled, startled. "What?"

"I do not want to see another failure like Ostagar. The darkspawn must be defeated, and I think I can help."

Greagoir frowned. "Are you sure? The Circle needs you, Wynne."

Wynne snorted. "There is no Circle left to speak of. I will return if... when the Blight is stopped."

Fearghal glanced at Alistair, lifting his eyebrow. Alistair flushed, suddenly nervous. He's asking my opinion? Straightening slightly, Alistair thought quickly. She's sensible and a very good healer... maybe she could help Arl Eamon.

At Alistair's slight nod Fearghal said, "You will be a valued member of this group, Wynne."