Chapter 23 – What Dreams May Come

He was in hell.

Or the fade equivalent, Anders thought as he wandered through dark, twisting corridors that had no beginning or end. In truth, he hadn't really known what to expect once he passed through the veil. He'd rarely had reason to explore beyond his own realm of the fade, and the few times he had had been nothing like this. This was surely the stuff of nightmares.

Even the air in this place was strange. Still. Like stagnant water or a tomb…or at least what he assumed a tomb must feel like, as he had never actually been inside of one himself. But he had heard stories of such places; of vast stone catacombs deep beneath the earth filled with piles of bones that went on without end. He shuddered at the thought of being trapped in such a place for all eternity, and wondered whether the Deep Roads held the same sinister distinction. He shuddered again at the thought.

After what seemed like an eternity the corridor opened onto a vast, dimly lit chamber. It took his eyes a moment to adjust but once they did he went white as a sheet. There were corpses as far as the eye could see, and not just of men but darkspawn as well. The flickering torchlight cast an eerie glow across the mutilated bodies, making him shudder for a third time since his arrival in this place. Andraste's ass! I really am in a tomb! Anders thought as he swallowed past the bile that jumped to his throat. He suddenly and horrifically knew where he was. How could he not when the evidence was laid out before him in such monstrous, graphic detail?

Fort Drakon. And not just some random, twisted version of the real thing as was often the case in the fade. This was Fort Drakon as it was in Falcon's memories.

Anders had seen a lot of horrendous things since his conscription, but nothing at this scale. This was…This is bad. This is really bad, he thought as he bit back the fear that suddenly made him want to run as fast and as far away as he possibly could. Steeling himself he stepped into the room.

Smoke hung in the air like a paranormal fog, curling in on itself with every step he took. It was almost as if time itself had stopped the moment the battle had ended, and he, the intruder, the only soul on this plane of existence to be unaffected. On further inspection he noted that of the casualties more than a few were elves and dwarves, not just humans as he thought at first glance. He also couldn't help but notice the occasional glimpse of brightly colored robes that could only be that of a circle mage. How easily he might have been one of them. Where is she? His mind screamed, wishing to find Falcon and be away from this place as soon as possible.

Halfway across the room Anders began to hear a soft sound off in the distance. He couldn't quite place it, but it sounded vaguely like a voice.

"Falcon?" he called, nearly jumping out of his skin at the reverberation of his own voice echoing back at him. The sound of it was strangely out of place in the stillness that surrounded him.

He froze, straining his ears for a response…any response…but there was none beyond the low, distant hum from before. Whatever it was, it was a sign of life beyond this silent battlefield. He followed the strange sound from room to room and eventually up a flight of stairs.

The second floor boasted the same bloodied corpses scattered across the wreckage, the same unsettling heaviness to the atmosphere. Only the sound he heard before had grown louder; loud enough for him to understand what he was hearing…weeping. Low, mournful sobs that sent shivers down his spine. He called out again, louder this time, and again he got no response. He repeated this over and over again as he travailed the silent halls of the fort; up another flight of stairs, through another silent, static world and yet another flight of stairs. He lost count on how many floors he had ascended or how long he had been in this place. He had to remind himself that time and space had no meaning in the fade. That in fact, it was more likely to play tricks on your mind then to show you the way out.

The higher Anders climbed the louder the weeping grew…that incessant, heart-rending sobbing that pounded through his mind and heart. It took on an almost musical cadence, like a dirge being sung in torturous lament. It pulled at him; tightening his chest and making him feel as if he would go mad if he had to listen to it for much longer. Yet he followed the voice, knowing that if he found its owner, he would somehow find Falcon.

When he saw the dark sky spreading out before him Anders realized he had reached the top and final floor. He didn't think that it was possible that something could be worse than the interior of Fort Drakon. In fact, if he was a gambling man (which, now that he thought of it, he was) he would've bet on it…and lost. The prison towered over the rest of the city and from this height he could see Denerim stretched out below him as far as the eye could see. He was horrified at the number of rooftops that billowed thick, black smoke that polluted the air and made it hard to breath. He could hear the screams of the dying and smell the sharp scent of blood and death, but all of that fell away the moment he took in the massive form of the dragon sprawled at the center of the destruction.

A long, gaping tear ran across the dragon's stomach from sternum to pelvis, allowing the internal organs to spill freely from the open wound. Its mouth hung slightly ajar, showing off a row of broken bloodied teeth and its eyes were rolled back in its monstrous head. A single blade jutted from its skull, golden hilt winking against the backdrop of ash and fire. Anders was so overwhelmed by the sight of it all that he barely noticed the small, leather-clad figure crouched next to the beast's head, her shoulders jerking with every plaintive wail that escaped her lips.

Falcon, Anders gasped to himself as his heart started to race. It had been her crying all along.

He quickened his pace as warning bells began to sound in his head. Abruptly he came to a halt, gasping as his chest squeezed painfully, instantly taking his breath away. He doubled over, placing his hands on his thighs as he told himself to breathe and not to panic. His heart was beating so loudly that he could hear it pounding inside his own ears and the pressure…it was like nothing he ever felt before. He felt…well, he wasn't quite sure how he felt, only that it was unlike anything he had every experienced before. Get yourself together! It is all a trick, all in your mind, Anders told himself as he tried to shake it off.

Again he stopped, dropping to his hands and knees as he took deep, long breaths in and out. He cried out as another tide of emotions washed over him, this one more powerful than the previous. It was more than sorrow, more than hopelessness…this was heartbreak in its purest form. Reaching up with shaky fingers, he touched his cheek and discovered tears. He was shocked. He hadn't cried in years, so why was he doing so now? And why was he feeling this immense pain; this sadness that was rending his heart into tiny pieces? Slowly, agonizingly, he forced himself to his feet and took one shaky step at a time, grinding his teeth together as he was hit with wave after wave of utter desolation. Soon he began to have thoughts he knew were not his, thoughts neither he nor anyone else had any business hearing let alone experiencing as if they were their own. Maker! She can't truly be feeling this way...can she? he thought desperately, forcing himself to keep moving.

As he approached Falcon he could see that she was cradling the broken body of a man in battered plate armor, his arms and legs sprawled unnaturally in death. His face was unrecognizable beneath the gore but the hair...golden beneath the caked blood…was the exact shade of Jocelyn's.

Anders ran the final steps to her side, inspecting her for injuries with the experienced eye of a healer. Her face was dirty and tear-streaked, and she was covered in blood from head to toe, but it did not appear to be her own. Falcon didn't acknowledge his presence, even when he dropped to his knees in front of her. She simply went on wailing over Alistair's prostrate form as if he wasn't even there.

"Falcon? It's Anders. I've come to take you home," he called to her. "Please listen to me…this isn't real. You have to come with me before it is too late. You have to hear me. Wake up!"

No response.

"Please wake up," he pleaded, tears still running freely down his face as her heartbreak pulsed within his own chest. He stared into the depth of her eyes, but saw no recognition in the dilated, glassed-over pupils. Only sorrow. He took her by the shoulders, shaking her lightly at first, and then a couple of hard, brisk shakes when she didn't so much as blink. He slapped her once, hard across the face...but still there was no response.

"It is useless, mortal," a cold, harsh voice called from behind him. "You cannot wake her."

He whipped his head around only to see exactly what he had been afraid he would see…a desire demon, sitting atop that archdemon's head. At the expression on his face the demon let out a dark, feminine laugh that sent shivers down his spine. It stood and gracefully dropped to the ground beside him, wildly waving its hooked tail as it moved seductively towards him.

"I know what you're thinking. Why not an eternal rendezvous with her dearly departed royal lover? Or a joyful family reunion with her poor, murdered loved-ones? Typical," the demon snorted indelicately. "Boring if you ask me...and surprisingly not her deepest, darkest desires," the demon said in the same dry, lascivious tone as an evil smile spread across its face.

"You do not know my true thoughts or hers for that matter demon," Anders spat, shielding his mind from the desire demon's magnetic pull.

"Ah, but I do, and they are most fascinating," the demon replied with a smirk. "You see, you cannot wake her…because she does not wish to be awakened. Her foolish guilt and sense of failed duty keeps her in this realm. This…all of this…is what she feels she deserves…an eternity of misery and heart-ache to go along with her delusional, pre-conceived notions of failure. And…once her mortal body comes to the brink of death, I shall take over and experience all of that glorious, pent up passion she hides so well from the rest of you mortals. It's a shame you won't survive this place. I would have enjoyed the taste of you in her form."

The demon hissed with desire as it ran its hands over its nearly nude form, obviously giving itself great pleasure, though he was unsure whether it was from its own touch or the thought of sexual gratification in a mortal's body. He shuddered at the mere thought either eventuality.

"You cannot have her, demon. I will wake her, and when I do, I suggest you release her…or you will most certainly die," Anders replied tersely.

The desire demon laughed again.

"You can most certainly try, but you will fail, mortal," it said with a hard laugh before disappearing.

Anders immediately turned back to Falcon, desperation lacing his shaking voice as he spoke to her.

"I know you're in there somewhere, Falcon. We need you. Me…your brother Fergus, Leliana, Oghren, Zevran…Nate…" He continued, pausing after each name to see if any created a response, but none did. He breathed a sigh of relief after the last. He admitted to himself that though he wanted her to snap out of it, he was glad that of all names, Howe's was not the one to trigger a response. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. Grabbing her by the shoulders once again he pinned her with his determined, hazel gaze. "Wake up, Commander. Jocelyn needs you."

A flicker of something crossed her eyes for just a moment. He squeezed Falcon's shoulders reflexively. Finally! He'd discovered something that might actually work.

"You remember your daughter, Jocelyn? She's waiting for you beyond the veil," he began softly, heart racing with excitement as the clouds began to clear from her eyes, but it wasn't fast enough for him. "Jocelyn's in danger! She needs you now Falcon, wake up!"

That triggered a response. Falcon gasped as her eyes cleared entirely. She shook her head as if shaking herself free from the residual effects of the spell, and then looked up at him, confusion crossing her features.

"Anders?" she whispered, reaching out to brush her fingers lightly over his tear-streaked face. "You're crying. Why?"

"No time to explain, Commander," he began with a shaky laugh, capturing her hand in his lightly. He placed a feather-light kiss on the back of her hand before squeezing it and letting it drop to her side. Relief washed over him as she began to scan her surroundings, lucidity in her steady gaze as her eyes widened and narrowed at each new discovery. He had a moment of panic when they briefly began to cloud over again, but then he shook her out of it before she was lost to him a second time.

"Where am I?" she asked once she was herself again.

"The fade. You've been trapped here for days. Your body is dying, Falcon. If we don't get you out of here soon, it will be too late," he told her, wincing at the horror that crossed her face.

"So it was real," she whispered a she squeezed her eyes closed for a long minute. "Everything is upside down. What I thought was real is a dream and the dream, reality."

She opened her eyes again, studying his features as if she were looking for something specific in them. What it was, he didn't know.

"Let us leave this place, I've had enough of it to last a lifetime," she finally replied with an air of determination that was far more like the Falcon he knew.

"We must be cautious. There is a desire demon after you. It is unlikely to let us go without a fight," Anders said as he helped her to her feet.

"Yes, well, bring the bitch on then. I have a bone to pick with her and am in the mood to kick some demon ass," she replied, producing a relieved chuckle from Anders.

That's my girl, he thought proudly.

"Is that so, mortal? Then here I am," the desire demon replied darkly from behind them. They both turned on their heels to see the demon hovering about a yard or so away, its eerie, violet eyes glowing bright with anger. "Do your worst," it demanded as it raised its arms above its head.

Falcon let out a war cry as she charged the demon like a chasind on the war path. Anders began to chant, bringing the magic into himself in one long, draw, tapping the fade for residual energy. He held it in, waiting for an opening. He could see the desire demon popping in and out as Falcon charged her over and over again, obviously growing frustrated at this sudden game of cat and mouse. Anders smirked, knowing if his spell worked, then the game would soon be over. He began to sweat from the strain of holding the spell in, but he had to wait for the right timing. Come on, then…a little closer, closer…he thought as he watched demon and mortal spar. Steady! He told himself as his hands began to shake and his vision started to blur.

Almost there…just a little bit more, and…now!

Anders released the spell in a single pulse of magic, putting everything he had into it, praying that it would work. Cold spells were not his forte, and he knew it, but it was the quickest most pragmatic spell in this case. Breathing hard after the exertion he put forth, he struggled to see through the mist the spell had left in its wake. When the haze parted, he wanted to laugh with giddy relief. The demon was frozen solid, arms flung out in paralyzed rage. But where is Falcon? He thought, a moment of panic making his expression crumble; but then he heard quick footsteps and a grunt, followed by Falcon's lithe body flying through the air. She landed on the demon's back, wrapping her legs tightly around its torso as she grabbed its head in both her hands. Beyond the strained sound elicited from between Falcon's teeth, he heard a cracking noise and then a loud pop as its frozen neck shattered, the head rolling off its shoulders to fall to the floor at his feet. The demons creepy eyes stared up at him in anger for a split second before the decapitated head spindled, then crumbled before his very eyes. Falcon quickly jumped to the ground, watching as the rest of its body slumped and fell, shattering into a thousand pieces.

For a moment they both just stood there, staring at the space that had just been taken up by the demon and then…as reality seeped in…they both began to giggle, and then chortle, until they were laughing so hard they had tears running down their faces. Falcon threw her arms around him as they laughed together in relief and Anders sighed contently as he wrapped his arms tightly around her, his nose finding the curve of her neck as he breathed her in deeply...just to be sure she was as real as she felt.

"Are you ready to go home?" he asked her quietly once they both regained a semblance of calm.

"Oh, yes," she breathed with one of her rare, genuine smiles curving her beautiful lips. "I've never been so ready in my life. Take me home Anders, please."

He beamed at her before grabbing her hand and running across the expanse of the roof. She laughed and followed, though he knew she was unsure of what he was about. When he stopped and climbed the low wall leading to the edge of the roof, he didn't miss the surprised confusion written across her face. He looked down over the side and smiled in satisfaction. Sure enough, just as he thought, there was a portal just below them.

"Anders—" she began, worry catching her voice.

"Do you trust me?" he asked her as he turned to face her.

"Of course," she replied without hesitation.

"Then give me your hand," he said. She eyed his offered hand for a moment but then took it firmly in her own.

She squeaked when he pulled her up on the wall beside him, her small body falling against his in the little space afforded to them. They were standing in a notch of the wall overlooking what should have been the rest of Denerim and the Fereldan countryside beyond...what they saw was little more than mist. Of course, Anders thought, inwardly snorting.

"On the count of three we jump," he told her as he pointed to the portal below. She looked down and swallowed hard, but nodded in agreement. He smiled his encouragement as he took her hand once again, looking deep into her cerulean eyes as he did so.

"I won't let go. I promise," he murmured. She smiled and nodded again, her eyes never wavering from his.

"Thank you," she whispered to him.

"You're welcome," he replied with a slow grin and then, "You ready?"

She nodded once again and slowly, he began to count. "One…two…three!"

"How long is this sodding supposed te take?" Oghren growled as he paced restlessly in front of the fire.

It had been hours since Anders had gone into the fade after her, and neither he nor Falcon had so much as twitched.

"Patience, Oghren," Wynne said in a soothing tone. "He has to find her first, and then take on whatever is keeping her."

"Think you that it is a demon?" Zevran asked softly.

He had joined them not long after the mages had finished their spell and had been leaning against the far wall, all but motionless ever since. Fergus and Teagan had their heads bent together, quietly talking across from the assassin, and Leliana was sitting in a chair next to Anders, quietly humming to herself.

"It is a possibility, but we won't know for sure unless they return," Wynne replied to the elf's query.

"You mean when they return, yes?" Zevran replied coldly, folding his arms across his chest.

"Of course," Wynne said as she folded her hands in her lap, her lips turning into a thin line.

Suddenly Falcon's back arched high off the bed, an unnatural sound escaping her lips as her eyes shot open and then widened with fear and pain. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, she dropped back to the bed, as motionless and silent as she had been before. Wynne rushed to the bedside, taking her pulse before running hands infused with magic over her head and down to her chest where they stayed for a long moment. Slowly, she smiled.

"She's sleeping naturally," Wynne breathed with a sigh of relief, the others doing the same.

A moment later Anders woke and immediately placed his head in his hands. The lingering effects of the emotions he experienced within the fade stayed with him as he returned to consciousness. Without meaning to he began to cry, overwhelmed by the sheer depth of Falcon's suffering. He shot up straight at the gentle touch on his back and heard Leliana's soft gasp when she looked into his face.

"Andraste's mercy," she whispered, backing away slowly. "What did you see?"

The others all turned to face him, silently waiting for his reply.

"Fort Drakon," he replied once he collected himself enough to speak, his voice quiet and raspy. There were several gasps this time, followed by murmuring voices as everyone took this in. Wynne simply nodded at him, as if she expected as much, and prompted him to continue.

"I…I could hear every thought, every feeling as she experienced them. I felt…" he began, but had to swallow past the lump in his throat. He closed his eyes tightly against the pain, but opened them again as he forced the words passed his lips. "I felt her heartbreak as if it were my own. I've never experienced anything like it…not in the fade, and certainly not in real life. Maker, how does one go through life like that? Living every day with that sort of pain without…"

"Going mad?" Wynne supplied. Anders hesitated, but nodded at her words. "Alyxandria has always been a deeply passionate woman, but she is also remarkably strong-willed. Were she not, she would never have survived the blight, not with so much going against her." At this Wynne sighed, a look of sadness entering her eyes. "It is as I feared. Even after all this time, after all that has happened…she mourns him still."

"Yes," Anders replied simply, not knowing what else to say. "But there's more to it than that. Something the demon said that concerns me."

"Tell me everything," Wynne replied.

He explained in great detail what he saw and experienced on his journey through the keep, and then hesitated when he reached the part on the roof. He swallowed, closing his eyes as he steadied his scattered nerves. When he opened them again, his gaze was steady and his voice strong and clear as he explained the sensation of sharing Falcon's emotions.

"How did you get her to listen?" Leliana asked, a look of wild curiosity in her wide, bluish-green eyes as he told them about her irresponsiveness.

"I told her Jocelyn was in trouble," he replied, garnering a nod of approval from Wynne.

"Of course. Invoking the name of her daughter was an incredibly intelligent move, my dear. She is connected to Alyxandria in a way that none of us could be, and so it makes sense that she would be the one to save her. It certainly wouldn't be the first time," Wynne concluded.

"I don't understand," Anders began, brow puckered in confusion.

"Alyxandria was in a deep depression after Alistair's death. The knowledge that his child was growing within her womb was the only thing that saved her in those dark days. Afterwards, it was her determination and her strength of will that kept her from going back down that path," Wynne replied, Leliana nodding in agreement next to him. "But we are getting off track. What was it that the demon said that concerned you, my dear?"

He continued his story, telling them all that the desire demon said to him verbatim. Anger seethed within him as he recalled the conversation, the words burned within his memory tasting bitter upon his tongue. Wynne simply hmmed at the words and waved for him to proceed. He finished with a description of the short-lived battle that followed, and their return path through the portal. When he finished the room was totally silent beyond the crackling of the fire upon the hearth.

"Thank the Maker you both made it back intact," Wynne eventually said. "Desire demons are difficult foes, but you both defeated her with little effort. You should be commended."

"Then she's going to be alright?" he asked, perking with excitement as he whipped around to stare at Falcon's still prostrate form.

"She's going to be fine, Anders. You, however, are in dire need of rest. Go lay down, I'll keep my eye on her."

"But I—"

"No arguments young man! Go…rest. She will be here when you wake," Wynne commanded, her mouth tilting up only slightly in amusement. "And as for the rest of you…be off with you now and let an old woman be! You can visit later when she wakes."

Anders smiled at those last words as he left and shuffled to his own room for the first time in days. When she wakes, repeated in his head as he drifted into a deep and mercifully dreamless sleep.

Falcon awoke the next morning feeling weak and confused, but otherwise whole. She turned her head to the side only to see Anders sitting in a chair by the hearth, a look of profound concentration on his face as he read a thick, leather-bound tomb. He's cute when he's thinking, she thought to herself, trying to hold back the giggle that bubbled up from deep in her chest but to no avail. He immediately looked up and smiled when he heard her, putting the book aside as he moved to the bed and carefully sat on the edge of the mattress.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her, cautiously running a hand across her forehead to check for any sign of fever. She carefully sat up, leaning her head gingerly against the headboard.

"I've felt worse," she began, voice hoarse from disuse. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Can't remember when exactly, but…I'm grateful to be alive, and I have you to thank for that."

"Hardly-" Anders began, but she interrupted before he could continue.

"It's true. Had you not come after me…had you not known how to get through…thank you, for…saving me…from the demon...from myself," she stuttered, flushing with embarrassment with her last words.

"Well, then," Anders said, clearing his throat before he continued. "You're welcome…though you would have saved yourself eventually. I just moved things along a little quicker."

"Humility? From you Anders?" she asked with amusement, making the mage blush a deep crimson. "You can spin it however you wish, but the truth is that I would still be there, bent over Alistair's broken body if you hadn't come after me. Either that or the demon would have had me as a meal by now."

At that she shuddered, making Anders chuckle before his expression turned serious again. Her heart beat a little faster, unsure of how she should take all of this uncharacteristic seriousness from him. I must have really scared him, she thought as she studied his features and wished she knew what he was thinking just then.

"Might I ask a question?" he asked quietly, his hazel gaze boring into hers.

"Of course," she replied, just as softly.

"Do you truly blame yourself for Fort Drakon?"

She saw the unasked question in his eyes that went along with his words, and briefly shut her own against it. She knew she would have to face this question someday, but she had hoped that she would be prepared for it when it came, maybe even numbed to it if she was lucky. She wasn't. When she opened her eyes again she could see the gentle patience in his own, and let herself take comfort in it. This man, for all their differences, had been deeper inside her head than anyone else, had felt and experienced everything she had while reliving her own personal nightmare. And for all of that he wasn't treating her like an invalid or a madwoman. He wasn't screaming and running away as most people probably would after experiencing something so horrific. Instead he wanted to delve deeper, to know the grotesque reality below the pretty facade. She swallowed hard before she began.

"There was another warden at Fort Drakon that day," she said eventually as she met his steady gaze. "As the most senior warden amongst us, Riordan volunteered to take the final blow. He died early on, thrown from the back of the archdemon while trying to fulfill his duty. That left either Alistair or I to do the deed…" she paused, collecting her emotions before continuing. "Alistair was to be King. As the last of the Theirin line I could see his future clearly in my mind's eye, which left it up to me to…"

She faltered to a halt; tears welling in the corner of her eyes as the memories painfully tore at her chest. Anders squeezed her hand, silently lending his support. She took a deep breath and then continued.

"It should have been my blow to take, but he took it from me anyway. He was all that I had left in this world, the one thing in all of Fereldan that was my duty to protect, and I failed."

"You're wrong," he replied softly, earning him a confused look from Falcon. "You protected the Theirin line whether you knew it or not," he continued, seeing the surprise in her eyes at his statement. "And you will always have Jocelyn to prove that your time with him was real, that your love for him was not unfounded. As a wife and mother, you did your duty."

Falcon opened her mouth to speak, but Anders stopped her by raising a hand.

"Now," he continued. "As a warden, well…you might not have personally killed the archdemon, but you have protected thousands of innocents with all that you've done. You gathered an army to face the blight, you crushed a civil war before it could destroy us all, crowned a king and a queen…Beyond that, you're a bloody brilliant leader and have faced death more times than I can count...and that just within the span of time I've known you. Maker, woman, can't you see?" he growled in consternation.

She simply sat there blinking up at him, not knowing what it was that he wanted from her. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in exasperation.

"You haven't failed; you're the bloody Hero of Fereldan for Maker's sake! And before you can say anything, you earned the bloody title so you might as well get used to it! There's only so much one person can take, and you've taken more than your fare share. Andraste's mercy, woman, after everything you've been through, you have to be the bloody strongest person I've ever met!" Anders cried, looking as if he were about to shake her until she accepted his words.

"Why are you afraid?" he seethed,.

"What?" she asked, confused at the sudden change of topics. "Afraid of what?"

"Afraid of life," he hissed. "How do you think you will ever learn to let him go if you do not live?"

"I don't understand," she said, her voice shaking with a sort of strange, unexpected anxiousness. He was staring at her again, hazel eyes drilling into hers with an intensity she had never seen before…not from him at any rate. She gasped, eyes widening with sudden understanding. When he spoke again it was as if the world around her had stopped, and the only thing in existence was the words that would change everything between them…one way or another.

"Let it go, Falcon…let him go, and move on with your life…with me."

*Muse Tunes: "Half Remembered Dream" by Hans Zimmer (Inception OST); "Padme's Rumination's" by John Williams (Revenge of the Sith OST); "Sorrow" by Klaus Badelt & Lisa Gerard (Gladiator OST); "I Rise, You Fall," by Steve Jablonsky (Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen OST); and "Killed by a God" by Ramin Djawadi ("Clash of the Titans OST).