Thanks to analect for being a great beta, as always. And a great big thanks to dominicgrim and JadeSelket for reviewing - I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this little story. Hang with me for the next few chapters - we're going to get a know a few people a little better as Sammie moves through her grief. She will come out on the other side, though, along with a certain Vael...

9:32 Dragon, Spring

Andraste's stone face was a mystery to Samantha. She had to remind herself that someone else had carved this piece of rock to look like the prophet. It wasn't that old, and she had died a long time ago, which meant that someone had really carved it to look like whatever they thought she looked like. Maybe she didn't look like that stone at all. Maybe she'd had a wider nose or wavy hair. Who had chosen this likeness for her and why?

Samantha fumbled with the locket around her neck as these questions ran through her head. The initiates at the Chantry accused her of avoiding the Maker's comfort but what they were really asking her to do was to forgive Him for taking Corbinian away. She had heard the Canticle of Transfigurations more times than she could stand and by now she could recite it by heart. She had never actually listened to it before, or maybe she had just never heard the message behind the words. It was beautiful, and she had always loved the way her mother sang it when she was a little girl. But she wasn't a little girl anymore.

Sometimes she wished that she had joined her parents at the Maker's side; that would have been easier than trying to make sense of what had happened. She couldn't help but wonder, would she have to wait until her own death to see her Beenie again? Goran was so certain he was alive that it was impossible to talk to him about Corbinian, and she couldn't shake the thought that the Prince of Starkhaven was doing her a great disservice by clinging to the idea that his brother still lived. Was Samantha supposed to move on? Was she supposed to mourn? Was she supposed to wait? She stared up at Andraste and silently asked her, What am I supposed to do?

Every day, she watched people come and go from the Chantry; faces she knew that were distorted by grief. The Grand Cleric said that the Maker didn't make things happen or let things happen, but if that was case, Samantha wondered why Francesca was always invoking the Maker to watch over them all. What good was a Maker who let his children suffer?

All of them. Even the mages.

She wondered about the renegade mages often. Had they been killed? Had they escaped? Were their names on the List?

The day's musings piqued her curiosity, and her mind drifted to the most recent Survivors' Index. It was updated as often as new information became available and posted on the Chanters' Board just outside the Chantry, inside of which Samantha had been sitting and staring at Andraste. It was her only place of refuge anytime Benjamin Garrity or his father would start to pester her about moving on, which had turned out to be far too often for Samantha's patience. And even though she was wrestling with her faith, the Chantry was far more comforting than anywhere else. Maybe it was the warm wood of the pews or the colored light through the stained glass windows. Maybe it was the embrace of the sisters and brothers, or maybe it was that she received letters from Sebastian. But there weren't many places that had happy memories anymore. Thus far, the Chantry was safe.

With her shoes in hand instead of on her feet, Samantha made her way to the wide front doors of the Chantry, which creaked from their own enormous weight as she tried to pry them open. Samantha struggled to shift the heavy wood, surprised when the doors suddenly began to open more easily. It was then that she noticed Keis behind her, pulling the doors back with ease. The warrior had become a permanent fixture in her life, but inanimate like a parasol or a fork: always around when needed and never in the way. Samantha wrapped her shawl a little tighter around her shoulders as the brisk spring air greeted her.

The front of the Chantry was beautiful. Starkhaven had a reputation for lavishness after all, and so the Chantry was kept in immaculate condition. Its marble pillars and intricate carvings encircled the entire building but, most famously, the polished stone bodies of Maferath and Hessarian were carved into the first two columns of the building, as if they both were forced to hold up the roof of the shrine to Andraste for all eternity as penance for their sins. Of course, the Chantry would never claim to be a shrine to Andraste, but Samantha didn't really think they were fooling anyone.

The Chanters' Board was littered with notes. Many of them contained drawings of the faces of the missing. Have you seen this boy? Husband and father. Last seen on… Many of them were faded as if the elements of nature had taken them to task for being posted for so long, which in itself was heartbreaking.

"Did you know that someone started a separate list for pets?" A familiar voice made her twirl around. It was Ser Traven. "I doubt any of them will be found. The Tylers still haven't found their cat."

"The Tylers had a cat?" Samantha had never heard this before.

"Oh, right." Traven smirked, turning to Keis. "I forgot about all those rules the nobles have."

Keis chuckled, she only ever laughed in front of Traven. "They didn't announce it, but I think it was their son's."

Vincent Tyler had a cat? It was so strange that these mundane details could change her view on someone so entirely. She had never seen his cat. She had never seen anyone's cat as it was considered low-brow to keep pets, especially vermin-chasers like cats. They were diseased and dirty, they licked themselves in unattractive places, and then wanted to lick people. Maybe this missing cat was why Vincent seemed so down when she last saw him. Maybe he was simply brooding over the loss of his pet, and Samantha felt terribly stupid for assuming it was about her family.

She was being rude in her surprised silence. "Forgive my manners, Ser Traven. How are you?"

"I am well, and your manners are impeccable as always. How are you, milady?" It wasn't one of those how are yous that Keis offered, layered with a guardian's worry, but rather genuine.

She found that keeping up her formalities around Traven was difficult, and she wasn't sure why, but the honesty escaped her like her own breath. "I have good days and bad days. I was just inside and thought about the List."

"Who were you going to look for? I'll help." He moved towards the board.

"Well." She felt a little awkward, because she wasn't sure how it would sound. "I think his name is Decimus."

Keis narrowed her eyes, squinting at Samantha as if she was trying to see her intentions. Traven gave a long look, too, and she guessed he was searching for her reason as well, but his scrutiny came across as sort of revelatory. Like he was learning something about her, just as she had learned something about Vincent Tyler.

She felt the need to clarify. "I know that his fraternity was helping Innley, and I know that Innley is considered missing. I was just… I don't know what I thought, I guess."

"I understand." Traven looked back at the board. "Let's see… Decimus. Decimus… here we go. He is formally listed as missing."

"Which means he escaped." Keis didn't coat the truth with pleasantries.

Disappointment settled heavily upon Samantha's shoulders, but she wasn't sure what she had been expecting. "Oh."

"Lady Samantha..." Traven said quietly. "I've read the Templars' report. He is not your brother any longer. Your brother died that night. Innley was a sweet boy taken advantage of by a manipulative maleficar." He took a breath and then said, "I take personal responsibility for what happened with him, because I should have watched out for him better. It was my job after all."

"That's very nice of—"

She had stopped talking, because the ground had shook. Just once. There was a low rumbling that followed and then dead silence. The birds ceased their chirping, and quite suddenly flew from the trees into the air, the ominous flutter of their wings fading quickly. Without warning a dark stream of smoke billowed out from a nearby sewer grate. It was as thick and black as the smoke that had poured from the Starkhaven Circle Tower the night it had burned to the ground. Faster than Samantha could blink, Maferath and Hessarian both disappeared beneath the rapidly spreading smoky blackness.

She let out a small, involuntary yelp, dropping her shoes to the stone while Keis and Traven drew their weapons in synchronicity. Traven's battleaxe dwarfed Keis' sword and shield, but they both moved with such grace, as though their weapons were part of their bodies, and Samantha remembered how Corbinian had always moved the same way.

Traven turned to Keis and yelled something, but that was when Samantha noticed that it wasn't deathly quiet, it was actually so loud that she couldn't hear anything distinct. The lack of sound was fuzzy and enveloping, just like the smoke. Eventually, Traven grabbed Keis' shoulder and yelled again. Keis nodded, turning her gaze to the direction of the Chantry – apparently she had understood him. Samantha looked back as well, but the smoke was so thick that she couldn't see past a few feet, and what lay beyond that was anyone's guess.

Not again, not again, not again began beating through Samantha's mind like a horse's hooves, chasing down her hope that everything that would be all right.

Keis wrapped an arm around her, yelling into her ear, "Move with me!"

The command seemed a little ambiguous at first until they began to walk slowly together in the direction of the Chantry's doors. Samantha closed her eyes, coughing from breathing in the smoke, and she pulled her shawl up to cover her mouth, tripping up the stone steps and stumbling hard into Keis as the woman came to an abrupt halt. Samantha opened her eyes.

She had only ever seen pictures of demons, and those drawings clearly did not do them justice, for the thing that arose before her was as frightening as anything she had been dreaming about for the last year. It was made of thick smoke, swirling and smooth, coalescing around itself with a strange and barely visible fiery core. It was unbearably hot, like staring into a fireplace, burning her eyes for keeping them open. Its only other discernible feature was its eyes, which were an unnatural green. Just like Innley's had been.

Innley.

For one everlasting second, everything seemed to stop and there was nothing in the world but the silent wind, the searing heat, the gleam of Keis' sword, and the looming pillar of black death reaching for the pair of them. But the moment was broken by the battle cry of a woman who wasn't going to fail in her duty.

Keis' arm snaked around Samantha's waist, pinning her to the warrior's armored body while her shield protected Samantha's back. Suffocated by fear, Samantha watched the warrior swing her sword across her body in a wide arc, the blade passing through the creature's center without impact. It was incredible; without so much as a twitch in reaction to the blade, the monster reached for Keis, and Samantha instinctively flinched away from its smoky grasp. The terror shooting through her made her want to run, to scream, and she wondered if maybe the Maker had heard her earlier when she wished for death. Maybe He would take her now.

Keis pivoted until her sword noiselessly sliced through it again, and this time the creature seized violently for a few seconds before it simply dissipated into nothing. Samantha was still cowering at Keis' side, staring at the empty space before them, dumbfounded at where it had gone and terrified of it coming back.

"What was that?" Samantha yelled over the deafening fuzz, tasting tears that were dripping into the sides of her mouth.

"A shade!" Keis answered, regripping her sword. "Keep moving!"

A shade. A demon. A demon.

Samantha doubted she could move, her mind jumping back into that hallway with the terrible tinkling and the rolling and the whimpering, but Keis jerked her back to the present. Samantha's eyes snapped to her protector's, which were made of jade, hard and cold.

"I said, move!"

Samantha felt her body intimidated into motion, her legs and feet stiffly lifting onto each step. Two more shades appeared between them before they made it to the doors, and at each encounter, Samantha felt more and more certain that she was going to die. But once at the top, just when she thought they would go inside the Chantry and Andraste would open her arms and embrace her in the afterlife, Keis hesitated.

"What?" Samantha asked impatiently, her knuckles white from gripping her shawl.

"I can't be sure there aren't demons inside," Keis responded pensively. "Nor do I want to endanger anyone in there by opening the doors. We're going to have to stay here. More Templars are likely on their way if not here already."

Andraste's mercy! Was Keis keeping her alive to spite her? Samantha wanted to sink down to the stone, curl up into a ball and cover her ears, but Keis wouldn't let her do that either, just in case they needed to move quickly. So they huddled up against the Chantry doors and waited while Samantha pressed her face into the cold metal of Keis' armor to keep from getting sick with fear, with anger, with bitterness. After a few moments, they could hear clanging, like metal on stone and then crackles, as though metal was meeting magic. Keis had been right; the Templars had arrived.

It wasn't long after that the smoke unceremoniously disappeared. Just like the demons – the shades. It reminded Samantha a little of a summer storm she had seen once, how the dark grey clouds just suddenly parted to be replaced by white puffy clouds and a bright blue sky. That was exactly what this had been like. It was sort of surreal to see a group of bloodied Templars appear as the smoke shrunk away.

Several Templars milled about, inspecting themselves and each other. One of the Templars had his foot on the back of a mage whose face was pressed hard against the granite path. A little way away, a Templar hunched over another smaller Templar who lay face down in the dirt, blood pooling from somewhere underneath the body.

"You guys all right?" Traven called out to Keis, and Samantha followed his voice to see another Templar sheathing his sword and setting his shield on his back. Samantha recognized the armor markings as only worn by a Knight Captain in the Templar Order.

Keis turned to Samantha, lifting her chin and moving it from side to side. "Are you injured?" Samantha fussed against her, which Keis took as her answer, calling back to the Templars, "We're fine."

"Right." The Knight Captain smiled broadly at Keis. "Good thing you were here or that girl would have been toast."

"What happened?" Traven asked him.

"We were surveying the ruins of the tower, there had been reports of—" He glanced at Samantha. "—activity. Imagine our surprise to learn that the dungeons of the Circle Tower didn't burn like the rest of it."

The dungeons. Where Innley had been. How many of those windowless chambers had been forgotten? How many mages died chained to the wall with nothing but the sounds of death in the air? Samantha felt like she was going to be sick.

"We found this mage down there, crawling through the catacombs like a worm." The Knight Captain gestured to the woman who was squirming and complaining under the boot of one of the Templars. She had a black eye that was swelling quickly. Her blonde hair was half-caked in blood, and her robe was torn and burned. She was also profoundly dirty, from head to toe.

"I have a name if you'd bother—!" The mage's outburst was rewarded with a yank of her hair and orders to quiet down.

"Probably trapped this whole time." The Knight-Captain sighed, speaking like she wasn't there. "She ran when we got to her. Led us all through the sewers. I guess we shouldn't be surprised that she wasn't able to fight off demons while she was alone down there."

Traven reset his battleaxe upon his back. "An abomination?"

"I don't think so." The Knight Captain derisively looked down at her. "Maybe just a blood mage. In either case, she called those demons to aid her escape."

"I did not!" she protested. "I was running from them!"

"Don't make things worse for yourself, girl." The Knight Captain's voice was biting.

"Elsa. And I am not a blood—"

He knelt down beside her and said quietly, though still loud enough for Samantha to hear, "If you don't shut up, I'll be forced to silence you."

Elsa stayed quiet.

Traven looked to the rest before his gaze settled on the lone fallen Templar. And then he said a name that Samantha recognized: "Shay."

"She was down there with this one," the Knight Captain said, referencing the mage as he brushed the girl's blonde hair away from her face. The gesture was too familiar, too intimate, and Samantha shuddered. "Always had a soft spot for mages, that one. And look where it got her." The Knight-Captain stood up, arching his back into a stretch. "Well, let's get this mage off to… Kirkwall, I guess. The Knight Commander there will know what to do with her. Drinks at the Barracks in an hour, Ser Traven."

"Yes, ser," Traven said, and he sounded strange. Too formal. The laughter in his voice was gone.

Samantha couldn't imagine celebrating; Ser Shay lay dead on the granite path in a quickly-drying puddle of her own blood. Samantha remembered how Shay had been a sympathizer, how she had the mark on her armor, and Samantha wasn't quick enough to spy the other Templar's armor plating for similar markings before they moved away. Maybe Shay was one of the last. Maybe she had been helping the mage, the girl named Elsa. Samantha thought of Helena. Maybe helping mages always ended in tragedy.

Several Templars picked Elsa up, and she didn't fight them as they led her away. In fact, she turned to look at Ser Shay's body with a sorrowful expression. Whether it was because of guilt or sadness was impossible to tell. Samantha, Keis, and Traven watched them go in silence.

"Do you think—?" Samantha started but Traven shrugged, his armor clinking loudly.

"It's impossible to tell by looking at them. The ones who are lie, and the ones who aren't suffer for it." He was watching a few of the Templars gather up Ser Shay's body, but he seemed to be looking so very far away. After a moment, he turned back to Keis and Samantha. "I'll walk you both back to the Garritys'."

Keis nodded, and Samantha instinctively took his arm, as though he were escorting her home from Chantry service and not a near-death experience. Of course, this wasn't the first time this sort of thing had happened since the destruction of the Circle Tower. Little fits like this popped up every now and then, though Samantha had never before personally witnessed them. Everyone said that the Veil had been thinned from the explosion, and for a while this part of Starkhaven was likely to be a dangerous place to use magic. Perhaps it had been Keis' constant presence or the Templars roaming the streets during all hours that made her feel safe when she came to the Chantry. Whatever it had been was now gone, as the city that had once been a lavishly decorated playground was now a precarious illusion.

Letting out a shaky breath, Samantha held onto Traven's arm tightly as they began their walk down the granite path towards the Garrity's estate. Standing close to two armored figures reminded Samantha of all those times that she and Corbinian had stood this close. She couldn't help but compare their armor to his, which had been much nicer than Traven's... and eerily similar to Keis'. The cut of the golden plates pieces was the same, the royal insignia was emblazoned on the wristplates, and the fit of the undertunic was tailored to her body – something only royalty or nobility could afford. As far as Samantha knew, Keis did not come from a noble family. Her armor wasn't a set that rolled off an assembly line from just any smith, but rather it had been customized specifically for her in the same manner that the best blacksmith in town had customized sets for the Vaels. Samantha wondered, Is Keis wearing royal armor? Had Goran ordered her a set made? That would have been something, for no one but a Vael had ever worn the royal armor.

"I haven't seen Ser Langley," Samantha said, fumbling for a topic.

Traven deflated a little. "I guess you wouldn't have heard. Ser Langley died the night of the Mage Rebellion. It was a powerful demon. Keis was there—" Samantha looked to her, but found an unreadable expression. "—Took six of us before it went down."

"Oh." She gripped his arm a little tighter to show sympathy. "I'm so sorry."

"I think the mages went after him."

"He deserved what he got," Keis said coldly.

Samantha remembered the way some of the mages stared at Ser Langley on those rare occasions that he had led her and Corbinian through the tower to see Innley. The mages had looked upon him differently than Traven, and he had looked upon them differently as well.

As they rounded a corner and passed by the Templars' Building, the Circle of Starkhaven came into view, or rather what was left of it. The workers had cleaned away most of the debris and there were just a few wiry support beams left, blackened from the fire and twisting upwards in torment. Samantha thought of all the men and women who had died right on that spot.

It'll take more than that to kill me.

Corbinian's words echoed through her memory, soot-stained and exhausted, and she could have sworn that she had held onto him in relief and elation just yesterday. All those years ago. Was Goran right? Was Corbinian alive? Would it have taken more than a demon or a group of renegade mages to kill him?

"This isn't what I thought it would be like," Traven said quietly, drawing Samantha out of her thoughts, and Keis actually gave him a sympathetic look.

"What isn't?" Samantha asked, turning away from the remains of the Circle Tower.

"I always thought that the Templars were noble. Something good. But it's always felt like…" Traven gave another sigh. "You know, I think about Innley a lot. How I tore up your letters to him. About what he did to you. It's my fault. Well, it's the Templars' fault. We have to safeguard these mages from demons—like those we saw today—and we failed with your brother."

"Ser Traven, I do not fault you for the actions of a demon. Innley could have chosen differently."

"Maybe if he had read your letters—"

"He kept his magic a secret from his family and friends until he was thirteen, which suggests that he had considerable control over it." Samantha found her strength returning as she kept talking. "I've read about maleficar and abominations. Unlike you and me, a mage has to look into a demon's eye and accept their offer. You likely could not have prevented what occurred any more than you could prevent the sun from rising. Do not burden yourself."

Pressing his lips into a small smile, Traven seemed deeply moved. He swallowed hard, standing up a little taller before he said, "I always knew you to be uncommonly kind for someone of your stature. You honor me."

Perhaps because of everyone she knew was someone of stature, Samantha had never really thought of herself as such. Indeed, the only ones she felt that way towards were royalty, but standing with this Templar, this man who was the orphan of a whore, she realized that she must seem like royalty to him. It was a little surprising, because he was always a perfect gentleman. Not like the orphans of whores in the stories, who were vulgar and uncouth. Not even like most Templars.

How strange it was that Samantha had been staring the statue of Andraste for a year, weeping in the arms of brothers and sisters of the Chantry, reading through the Chant to try and make sense of all that has happened, but it was this conversation, no more than a few minutes long, that brought some measure of understanding about the events of that night. That it would take something so horrible like that smoky shade…

She looked up at the awning of the Garritys' estate. It felt like the border to a foreign land, and quite suddenly, she felt ready to move back to familiar territory.

"Lady Samantha?" Traven prompted.

"It's nothing," she said. The events of the day were already fading, like a bad dream. "Keis, I think I'm ready to move into the royal palace."

Keis just nodded, as though she had been expecting this.

But Traven chuckled. "Actually, I was going to ask what happened to your shoes."

As the trio looked down at her bare feet, which none had noticed until now, Samantha laughed for the first time in a year.