Thoughts scattered, Cullen waited for the demon to come back and resume her taunting. He knew the mage at his feet on the other side of the barrier had to be another of the demons' tricks; it couldn't really be Amell. The movement of her chest had gone shallower and shallower until he could no longer tell if she was breathing. The demon was trying to test him, somehow. It would let down the barrier and have him rush to help her only to be taken for good. He fell to his knees, praying once more and trying to block out the still form lying a few feet away.
How much later, Cullen couldn't say, but he heard voices and shut his eyes, bracing himself for the demon's return. To his surprise, this vision wasn't another of Amell, but of a group of people: a woman and man he'd never seen, an elf, and Senior Enchanter Wynne. So that was what it would be - a hope of rescue, then. A hope of saving Amell. Any concern he'd felt was gone, replaced with disgust with himself for actually believing she'd have come, the she'd have tried to save him at the cost of her own life.
"This trick again?" He said, not at all bothering to hide his contempt but well aware of how close to breaking he sounded. "It won't work. I know what you are. I will stay strong." The woman looked down at him, thoroughly annoyed, as the demon wearing Wynne's face dropped to her knees to check on the false Amell.
"She's still alive," Wynne breathed, and Cullen murmured the chant louder, trying to block out the conversation. He tried to tell himself that if this were really happening, Amell couldn't have survived. It did no good.
"Can you heal her?" the man asked, seemingly concerned.
"Do not take offense, my friend, but should we not request Wynne save her healing magic for us?" said the elf, looking down at Amell as though he weren't quite sure Wynne could save her even if she did try.
"Zevran is right," Wynne said regretfully, rising to her feet. "She will survive for the time being, but we must find the First Enchanter." She turned her attention to Cullen, gazing at him in that sadly maternal way she'd looked at Amell a moment before. That was too much.
"Begone, demon!" he said, opening his eyes and staring when he saw the four still assembled before him. Though the Wynne-demon and the man were looking at him with pity, the elf didn't seem to care, and the woman looked at him as though she had no time for his frivolity.
"Where are the others?" demanded the woman, and Cullen shakily exhaled.
"That's always worked before," he said, more to himself than the others, trying to push away the things forcing their way into his senses, convincing him this was real.
"We do not have time for this," she said, crossing her arms. "Tell us where the others are now."
"They… they are in the Harrowing chamber," Cullen replied, now unsure of himself. They didn't offer freedom, or help for Amell. They would not disappear when he called them out. Unlike in the visions, his lyrium withdrawal was near-unbearable, he was ravenously hungry, and the spot where the rage demon had burned him stung with every breath. A small sense of urgency overtook him – if they were real, he had to be sure they'd do the right thing. "The other mages, you have to kill them! They could be maleficarum -"
"I'm going to save everyone I can," the woman said, already clearly finished with this conversation and feeling no sympathy for him. "We'll be back for you once we save the mages."
"Maker guide you," he said, staring after them. His gaze turned back to Amell's small form on the ground, still not convinced that she wasn't a demon. It would wake up any moment and resume tormenting him. He closed his eyes and continued the Chant, half praying the four would return safely and half dreading what it would mean if they did.