Chapter 52

When Emphaty Alone is not Enough

Noah

"I... found the hideout of the wolves."

I sounded weak. Stupid. My head was down as I reported to Zathrian, and it was killing me inside. But the pain of my wounds was much worse.

The claws of that flea bag had seemed to be bathed in a demonic fire, strong enough to penetrate the flesh and burn to the bone. It was unbearable, as if he was still with me, slashing my flesh anew in each moment. And to complete the insult, I was infected too.

Now it was a only a matter of time before I transformed and killed everyone.

"That I realized," said Zathrian, who was sitting at his desk with his hands resting on the book he'd been reading before I'd arrived. He looked me over from head to toe, and there were onyl disgust and repulsion in his gaze. "What I cannot understand is why you didn't come with the heart."

His gaze was superior - smug, and the urge to break his tattooed face was as large as my desire to make the pain stop.

"They were many wolves." I replied dryly. "One man against an army. If I had raised my hand against Witherfang, they would have killed me."

"So, it would have been better not to have come back." He, with the condescension of a god and the arrogance of men, opened his book again, leaning back against the chair.

"You have power, and a large group of well-trained hunters, who are perfectly capable of solving the problem," I argued. "I'll give you the location, we invade the place, and then you fulfill your end of the bargain."

"I know where they hide," he said, without taking his eyes from his book. "North, just twenty minutes from the camp, in the ruins."

What?

"When you're immortal, my dear warden, experience transforms the extraordinary into the most trivial of things." He said looking at me, pleased with my surprise. I could almost feel the lowercase letters that he used to refer to me. "Finding the hole where the dogs are hiding was not your task. I ordered you to retrieve the heart of Witherfang, not coordinates."

Would Zathrian still be pleased if he could feel my anger, I wonder?

"And you did not think it would be of interest to share this part of your knowledge with me, before sending me searching in the woods for almost a week?"

"You do not get to where I am now, by making concessions." He turned his eyes to the book. By that point, I had decided that was enough.

"If you knew about the hideout, my dear keeper, why you have not solved the problem yet?" I pinned, and it was with great pleasure that I received his expression of anger. I also made sure to return to him the lowercase letters of his title, of which he was so proud. "You cannot pass the barriers, isn't that it?" He gritted his teeth. "Even an immortal has his limitations, it seems."

"I don't need to remind you of your place, do I?"

I growled, slamming my outstretched hand on the table. "And I don't need to remind you that I know how to lift the barriers, and you don't, do I?"

He smiled, though.

"She let you in," he said. "Are you sure the daughter of Aldor had nothing to do with it?"

I felt the muscles in my body tensing as I gritted my teeth.

"Even the most daring courage of men has its limits, it seems." He smiled, and laid the book on the table. "This is my forest. Nothing happens without my knowledge."

"Don't you dare touch her," I growled, digging my nails into the palms of my hands, which were closed into fists. "Don't you dare ..."

"The house of wolves will burn, and Eilleen is the key." He said, leaning his elbows on the table while ignoring me. "Here's your next step ..."

"I'm tired of your games, Zathrian."

"So you're prepared to kill your two companions when they transform?"

Silence.

"That's what I thought."

I allowed my body to fall against one of the heavy wooden cabinets while he explained his nefarious plan. I had to accept - what choice did I have?

I was tired, sore, desperate - ready to grab the first glimmer of hope that crossed my path. Ready to accept whatever might get me out of this situation.

That nod was the hardest of my life, and though I could not see the consequences clearly then, I agreed anyway. I paid dearly for it later, but in that moment, I agreed.

When you're stuck in a chasm, pressed between the side of a mountain and the abyss below it, most people would jump the rocks to climb, and get out of there as quickly as possible, even if their hands bled and their feet froze.

And I... I chose to jump into the abyss. I was already screwed anyways ...

Kallian

My curiosity was killing me.

Not only curiosity but the headache, the nausea, the fever burning my flesh and the excruciating pain in my bones, ... the complete package was killing me, but I would emphasize my curiosity if I had to choose only one of them.

Someone had returned to the camp - very slowly, as if they were limping, and the most intriguing thing: that some one was alone - and I wanted to know who, despite being nearly certain it was Noah. Eilleen would have come directly to me before anything else, rather than stand on the other side of the camp doing who knows what.

And so, this behavior, raised other issues ... Most started with why, how and where, and none of them would answer alone.

I couldn't just get out of bed and go talk to him - believe me, I tried, and the experience was traumatic - so was trying to get someone to hear me. Lanaya was gone long ago, and the rain outside would muffle my shouts completely if I tried to call my companions. Never mind that my voice sounded like a hoarse duck.

Speaking of Lanaya, the First left the tent but didn't take the threat with her. I mean, she might have been betraying me to Zathrian, and I wouldn't have known it. She only changed my bandages, gave me half a dozen different mixes for pain and left.

And that had been hours ago. If she'd wanted to turn me in, I'd already be in trouble, wouldn't I?

I'd like to think so, anyway.

The Qunari stood outside, but didn't seem to be able to hear me. I knew it was him because of the shape of his shadow, which stood stark against the cloth when the sky lit up outside. Did I understand what he was doing there, standing in the rain? Nope, and that was another question I could not answer by myself.

The question was, how would I call to him?

With everything going on - Lothering, refugees, that mage Hawke picking fights with me, the lion - I had no head for socializing...

Beautiful way to start a friendship, no? The huge guy had saved my ass, and I had not even said thank you.

So I decided to turn the page and do what any normal person would do in such a situation: throw a boot at him. Aim at his silhouette drawn on the cloth, and pray that I could hit him on the head, just to get his attention.

To this day I wonder why he did not cut my hands off because of it ...

He looked back sideways - or at least so it seemed - and entered the tent with a frown and a neutral expression on his face. I swallowed hard. Excess neutrality was never a good sign.

"You did this?" He picked up the boot that was on the floor and lifted it towards me. He did not seem angry, just ... curious.

"Yeah..." I admitted, trying to sound like I was only making some dumb comment about the rain outside. "I needed to talk to you."

He was silent - threw the boot to the side near it's mate, crossed his arms and stared at me seriously, which gave me chills.

When several minutes passed with no scolding, threats or a single word out of his mouth, I decided to try again. "Uh ..."

"What?" he asked, his voice hoarse and quiet.

"So...Are you alright?" I asked, forcing my body into a sitting position. I felt like my bones would break in the process, but I tried not to let the pain reach up to my face. "You're so quiet right now..."

"You said you wanted to talk," he said. "I'm listening."

"Okay," I raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"You want something else?"

"No, no," I raised my hands as if to protect myself. "It's that I ... Well, I needed to call you, but then I discovered that I didn't know your name."

"I don't have a name."

Okay ... This is that part during awkward conversations where the person opens his mouth to speak a recently rehearsed response to such a situation, then suddenly realizes what the other person said was not at all what she expected, and in the end, simply runs out of things to say. Then you get a few minutes there, standing with your mouth open like a sucker, not knowing what to do.

Despite that some Qunari disagree, this has never happened to me, just to be clear.

"Everyone has a name," I said after my little moment of confusion. He didn't react at all - just stood still and indifferent with those violet eyes staring at me. "Perhaps a nickname, a title…? Some strange way that a friend called you...? There must be something. "

"There's nothing like that." Short and straight, and for my unending happiness (note the irony here), he didn't seem willing to keep up with the conversation.

"Well, I need something to call you."

"Do you?"

I pushed the hair out of my face, took a deep breath and tried again.

"I can't call you Qunari."

"It's what I am." It was funny how he never seemed to lose his temper. While I was freaking out, his stance was as serene as ever.

"I know…"

"So?" He uncrossed his arms, still staring at me. "I see no relevance in this discussion."

Wow. I don't think I was meant to talk to someone so directly, as well.

"Because it would be the same thing if humans called me elf, and I wouldn't like it," I explained, and part of me had lost hope that he would understand a word of what I said.

"But that's what you are."

"It's an impolite way of referring to someone," I pushed the bangs from my face once more. My hair was getting longer and locks were starting to enter into my mouth when I spoke. "It's the same as saying, I do not care who you are, that to me, you're just trash."

He seemed to consider what I said, and it gave me hope that we might actually get somewhere. That is, until he opened his mouth again.

"But the human warrior calls you elf."

I palmed my forehead. "It's altogether a different case."

"I see no difference."

Argh. I was definitely not used to dealing with people as straightforward as this.

I stared at him through my fingers in silence, holding his intense gaze. His curiosity turned into confusion at times, but certainly had not wavered. I could almost say that behind all that neutrality existed a part of him that I was studying, analyzing me, concluding things about me and I was sure that none of them were good.

"Do not worry your head, Da'shal," Eilleen's voice echoed, right before the drenched figure of the Dalish entered the tent, with her long wet hair covering her eyes. "The Qunari do not have names. They are what they do." She threw her thick leather cover on the ground before turning to the Qunari. It fell with a thud, because it was heavy with water. "You are a big guy. What is your purpose within the Qun? Enforcer, Protector?"

"Warrior," he replied, bewildered.

"Sten, then. Suits you." When she turned to me, her smile was wide, although it contained a hint of sadness. She quickly passed him, greeting him with a curt nod before turning back to me. "Call him Sten from now on. It's not a proper name, but at least it's a more comfortable way of reference."

"You're an elf," he said, and seemed genuinely surprised by everything Eilleen had said.

"Very observant of you," she replied, and seemed to be too comfortable to confront him about it.

"A Bas*." I raised an eyebrow at the comment. Whatever Bas meant, from his tone of voice, it was not good. "Still, you know the Qun. Why?"

"I lived half of my life with a Qunari," she explained, with her nimble fingers already stirring at my bonds. "He taught me a thing or two."

The expression on Mahariel's face was nostalgic, almost sad. I do not remember seeing any Qunari when we were in the camp of her clan, so this would have been something from the distant past, perhaps.

"A Tal-vashoth," he sneered.

"No. A Mahariel." The firmness in her voice, and even her anger, were stronger than the indifference of the Qunari - Sten. It was like she was defending one side of an old, long discussion, which she refused to give up. "And no, I do not intend to discuss this with you."

It was written in her eyes - the ferocity and determination of a person who was defending someone dear, a loved one. I would recognize that shine anywhere - a glimpse of protection that burned in all living beings when danger lurked in the shadows. Something that, for me, was new in her.

She was like a young rose bud - every aspect of her past and personality was a petal carefully enclosed in a cocoon. I had only perceived, up until then, her connection with the forest and her strong sense of honor as reference points; but now I felt that at long last the petals were blooming, and I was finally seeing the true woman hidden behind the leather cloak and silver bow.

Sten grunted and left the tent without saying a word, or expressing any reaction beyond his almost habitually creased forehead, leaving only silence in his place.

Mahariel decreased the rhythm of her fingers, taking much longer to remove the gauze from my neck than it normally would have. She was so lost in thought that I didn't bother to bring her back, but just stood in silence, patiently waiting for her to find her own way.

"The wound appears to be finally starting to heal," she said, tapping the edge of the bite. It hurt a little, but I didn't complain - the effects of Zathrian's curse were far worse. "But the infection has not improved ..." She ran her fingers gently along the black veins on my neck, following them up to my cheek. "Weird."

"Maybe it's a side effect of the disease?" I added quickly, shrugging.

"Can you actually see with this eye?" She inspected my right eye. "It should have healed by now, but it still looks blood red, as if you injured it only moments ago."

I froze in place, remebering the Lion's words.

I listen through your ears, and see through your eyes.

No need to look in the mirror to know that my eye was not with shot with blood but instead with the red glow of surveillance from the Lion, who had promised to stick around while he kept the poison of the wolves frozen in my veins.

That he had control over me ... Even if only a small part ... That terrified me more than I can say.

"I can see," I answered finally, trying to push the demon away from my thoughts. "What was that about, anyway?"

"You'd be surprised if you knew how long the simplest of discussions can last when you're speaking with a Qunari," she sighed, putting a generous dose of poultice on my shoulder, with a little more intensity than normal.

"Are you okay?"

She looked seriously at me, considering my question carefully before finally sighing.

"It's not his fault," she sighed. "The Qunari are methodical people," she replied, starting to bandage my shoulder again. "The Qun is black and white. Either you're in or you're a Bas, an unworthy. And if you leave the Qun, for whatever reason, then you become worse than trash. They do not accept half terms. "

I read about it once, I think it was about the Qun. It's like a code that they all follow or something. The text didn't speak about their customs, their titles, nor on the code itself, only taught how to take down a Qunari in three simple steps. Before you ask, it was a training manual for the soldiers of Denerim, I stole it from the stalls in one of my nightly escapades. It had a long list of how to control elves also, and I took full advantage of it. After all, it is easier to defeat the enemy if you know their tactics, right?

Oh, it also warned the soldiers to avoid the hornless Qunari, since they were more dangerous than the others. Or so they said.

Didn't I remember that when I made Noah release Sten's shackles, you ask? Obviously not.

"It's about the vanish thing, right?"

She giggled, finally relaxing her shoulders. The way she finished the knots of the bandages was the most gentle way possible. "Vashoth, Da'shal, Tal-vashoth. But, yes, exactly." She finished off, pulling the strap of my blouse back into place. "I cannot understand how they can be so cruel to their own people, only because they chose a different vision of what they think is right ..."

I immediately remembered our first meeting, nearly two months ago: The sharp gaze of the Dalish people; the judgment and anger with which she called me city girl...

The humans of Denerim, too - they liked us elves, when we were caring for their clothes or cooking their meals, but hated it when we showed up into their market or in sight of their homes. They accepted it when we were stuck inside the holes we were forced to live in, but repudiated it when we left the Alienage to do the same things they did, or tried to make a living. But what they hated the most was crossing one of us while walking through the streets - especially if it was me.

I remembered also about how my own people looked at me, back at the beginning of everything, chiding me for the way I chose to live my life. Scolding me for wanting to be free while the rest of them simply accepted the submission and suffering. The way they rebuked me when I beat a guard that was trying to destroy something that they had put so much effort into building, or how they looked at me when I came home covered in bruises and blood every time I was locked up in jail for disturbing the peace, as if screaming "I did it", and were expecting my surrender.

I was a shade of gray. Gray among humans, among Dalish who didn't respect me for being a city elf, among my own people ... The title of Grey Warden fit so perfectly that I couldn't help but smile at the irony of it.

"Yeah, I can imagine." I limited my reply, keeping my daydreaming to myself. "What about Noah?"

"It was good." she said, turning quickly to stir empty pots on top of one of the dressers.

"Then why did you come back to the camp through different paths?" I asked once, and something snapped in her hands, as if breaking. I'd say she froze in place, because every muscle in her body stiffened.

If before I had doubts about her hiding something from me, now I was sure.

"You never let anything pass, right?" She put the things that she was holding down on the table, and soon made a noise typical of ceramic pounding against wood.

I shrugged. "It's one of my special powers."

"Sure," She turned to me, and had an atypical redness in her cheeks. "Looks like someone has been playing the vigilante in my absence. Denying rest again?"

"Eilleen, I slept for three days," I answered. "Three whole days. I have enough energy to flay the Archdemon bare handed if I want."

"So much energy to defeat a dragon, but none to combat your own nausea?" She jokingly said, crossing her arms.

"How do you know?" Perhaps the sweat glistening on my forehead had given me away. Who knows?

"It's one of my special powers."

Smartass.

She pulled from her pocket a bunch of herbs that seemed to have been recently extracted, put in some leaves and wrapped in a ball. From her expression when she reached out, I knew I was supposed to stick it in my mouth and start chewing. Bitter like lemon with salt, those remedies for nausea. And, as my face twisted, she told me the whole story. The history that in part I already knew, but I was careful enough to fake surprise at the right times.

"It seems legitimate," I said when she finally finish her tale, half an hour later. Who would have thought that Witherfang was interested in parlay? It made no sense, especially considering that it was they who had attacked us a few days ago. Either way, it was an interesting twist.

"...And you don't seem surprised," she said, sneezing.

I was never good at faking emotions anyways. In fact that was exactly the reason why I got into so much trouble in the first place.

"You should change your clothes, ya know?" I said, avoiding her question. "You'll end up catching a cold at this rate."

She frowned then, silently demanding an explanation.

"I must confess that Zathrian being a Bloodmage doesn't surprise me more than lightning flashing in the sky on a stormy day - After all, this is exactly what to expect from a mage," I said, trying to sound convincing. "The story of the Lady makes sense but doesn't explain why she sent her wolves to attack us, especially if she is interested in peace."

"Ah!" She put her hand on her forehead. "I should have asked, but there was so much happening at the time ..."

"I foresee a 'but' there," I said. Her brows were too furrowed to be just that.

"She seemed to be speaking the truth," Eilleen said, hugging her body. "I can't explain it, I could just feel it was so ..."

I remained silent. The story that the Lion told me put Zathrian as the villain, so it was complicated to take sides in this dispute. And Eilleen apparently believed in the Lady, even though her gang had almost killed me. Despite her pack having turned my friend and forced him to attempt to kill me.

I sighed.

"Eilleen, I understand your wish to make Zathrian pay for what he has done," I said, finally. "But you really want to trust the people who did that to Alistair?"

"Alistair is with them."

What?

"The Lady is taking care of him," she said, taking my hand. "He's fine, but didn't seem to recognize me. She said..."

I didn't hear the rest, just got lost inside my own little world again. If the Lady was taking care of Alistair then it meant that such a wish for peace was indeed real. And if I had to pick a side, it certainly wouldn't be Zathrian's. Besides, if she wanted to harm us, she could could have done so down there, and no one would ever have known.

And it was the best chance we had to save Alistair ... It had to work.

"You said you trust this woman, right?" I said after she finished, and didn't wait for her to confirm. "So, follow your instincts. We're going to see this through, and it won't be at Zathrian's side."

She made a little pout, as if thinking of a very unpleasant thing.

"You are really willing to save him." It was not a question. "Even if it means siding with a spirit?"

I frowned. "We cannot let Noah bring hell down on them, no matter what."

"Don't worry about Noah," she said, rising abruptly. Determination burned in her eyes. "He is my responsibility. I'll find a way to stop him."

The way she said that ... It seemed almost personal. I don't know where her willingness came from, but I decided to just nod and swallow the "since when?" that I was about to ask. I needed her now more than ever, and I had to encourage this new initiative of hers. Especially when she seemed to be finally recovering her old self-confidence.

I looked at her steadily, measuring her apparent resolve while I carefully chose my words.

"If you say you will stop him, I believe you," I finally said, and I saw a swift smile steal across her lips. "But know this, I will not lose any of us to the werewolves or to Zathrian."

Her smile widened, but it was grim. It was a smile I thought often crossed my own lips, and I returned it gladly. After everything we'd been through together, I finally begin to feel a true kinship with my fellow elf, Dalish though she was, and me a city girl. I had a feeling that in the challenges to come, we would need each other more than we could have ever thought.

Noah

Soon after we finished our nasty conversation, I left the Keeper's tent and walked straight out of the camp. Away from Zathrian, away from the Dalish, away from my group, away from everything. I was a mess, and no one had even offered me healing for my obvious wounds. I had not expected otherwise, no. But to leave there, limping and as weak as I was, was a blow to my pride that was too much to bear.

I could not form complete thoughts, or any reasoning that contained a beginning, a middle and an end, without losing track of myself. I needed to sleep - really sleep, a whole night, from dusk until dawn without interruption - in order to be able to continue. I had not slept for three or four days, but it seemed a whole week. And even with my struggles, and the injuries caused by Swiftrunner ...

But I would not sleep. Not today.

It was just before dawn, and Zathrian still wanted to work things out under the first rays of the sun. Of course, it was because he was anxious to solve the problem, and not because he wanted to impose his sadistic desires for authority on everyone.

He was not even a bit satisfied that he was pushing me to the limits of my endurance. Noooo, not at all.

The rain had begun to subside, at least, although heavy droplets still fell on me while I did a poor job at bandaging my arm. Very poor. I'd tucked myself beneath a tree to attend to my injury, yet the wet leaves rained down on me more than they had outside.

Honestly, it really wasn't a problem. There had been so much rain that day that I had completely forgotten what it was like to feel warm and dry. I don't even know how I was managing my bandages, as my fingers were so cold and numb.

Indeed, when the ends of the bandage fell into my lap, I discovered just how badly my motor coordination was impaired.

"Allow me to do this."

Before I could react, agile and accurate Dalish hands were on my arm, rubbing the tips of her strangely warm fingers on my skin, while adjusting my bandages. The same fingers that could have pulled the string that would have launched an arrow into the back of that werewolf had done all this, but that in the end, had done nothing. Fingers that had frozen in the face of my pain.

I dare not look at her. Not after she had left me to own ill luck, after all the times I had stood by her side to defend her. I could not accept the fact that she had allowed herself to be stopped while trying to kill the wolf, especially after kissing me so passionately.

To have made me feel so whole, so complete, and then when I needed her most, she sat by and watched me come to my ruin.

While my thoughts slowly processed it all, she had already flawlessly wrapped the bandages on my arms, as easy as if you were changing your socks. Maybe she interpreted my lack of response as permission to continue, because soon I felt the same traitorous fingers tracing a soft line from the base of my clenched jaw to the tip of my chin. Her touch was so light that my head was instinctually guided by her gentle direction, exposing my neck where the wolf had scratched it.

"I wish it hadn't been that way." She said, using a piece of gauze, or something like that, to clean the wound on my neck. The cloth was tainted in blood red before she could say her next words. "But you are helpless, aren't you?"

I didn't agreed nor disagreed. Zero reaction. I let her do whatever she was doing while I just closed my eyes and sighed deeply.

I wanted to sleep so much...

I think she said something else, but I didn't pay attention to her cheap talk. Everything in my body was dead, both physically and spiritually. The only parts of myself that still had a bit of life were the places where she touched - the warm feeling of her fingers playing on my cheek tingled restlessly, even after she moved away.

I wanted to sleep ... Stay lost in that cozy warmth, and never wake up.

What hurt me most in all this was that I was doing it all for her, and she had turned away from me. She had been scratched, infected - and would die soon. I was doing the impossible to save her. And was still doing it! Even languishing in this pain and cold, the only thing that made my body move was so I might find a way to get rid of this cruel plague. Even if it meant subjecting myself to all kinds of humiliation and insults coming from that idiot Keeper, and me unable to say a word to be able to maintain the agreement. To be willing to endure all this shit, even after that dirty and bitter betrayal...I must be a sucker.

Then, she sneezed.

A sneeze could mean much, but for me it was a sign that my time was running out. It was the stir of all my fears, all my deepest terrors. Losing was not an option, and it had nothing to do with Eilleen, nor with the redhead elf.

It was for me.

Just like the last burst of life from a severed member who makes one last sudden move, spurred by instinct, before ceasing to exist, I turned my head away from her. I moved away from her heat, her care, and repelled her with one arm raised in protest, even against her hurt expression.

"We will leave at dawn," I said. "Zathrian will meet with the Lady to arrange the truce, and arrive at a conclusion about healing those who've been bitten."

"You cannot be serious ..." Her unbelief was palpable, but I limited myself to say the words I'd tested many times in the silence of the night.

"Your lack of belief is irrelevant."

The words were bitter in my mouth. But not as bitter as the answer she gave soon after, firm and determined, which made my shoulders come crashing down while my chest was burning in agony.

"I'll go with you," she said. "I do not believe in the good intentions of Zathrian. I must see this with my own eyes."

How I wish she had not said that.

I sank my face in one hand, exhausted. Eileen was the key, Zathrian had said. And she ... she did exactly what he said she would. Why did she have to be so predictable? Why couldn't she just accept the situation and sit back in the damn camp and wait for me to handle things?

Maker have mercy ... She thinks I am the helpless one.

"Whatever." I finally said, standing up. Thankfully, I had a tree behind me to keep me from falling, because that was the impression I when I stood up, and my pride was already too wounded to endure the shame of collapsing like a sack of potatoes at the foot of the Dalish.

She just remained there, with one knee still sunk in the mud, holding the dirty, bloody cloth tightly. She looked at me with compassion, with empathy.

I didn't need this shit.

What I truly needed was a cure for the plague, a decent night's sleep, the end of the Blight ... I wanted to punch that guy Zathrian to the Void with my pride, that's what I needed - not the empty pity of this woman.

Yet, when I started walking, she held my hand.

I had not noticed that she had stood up til I looked back over my shoulders. I didn't mean to, but the warm touch of her hand caught me by surprise. It always caught me.

"Please," she whispered. Her hand wrapped around mine with the same force of supplication that shone in her eyes.

Even with my back to her, I held her hand. I felt her slender fingers intertwining between mine, the firmness of her grip intensifying. It was almost magical, that feeling of being able to feel so much through merely a simple touch. She wanted me to stay at her side, to give up his crazy idea, and chose her over of Zathrian. She was asking me to trust her.

I almost felt the heat of her hand hesitantly hovering over my back, without knowing whether or not she should touch me. Not knowing if I would break, or explode in a flurry of anger, as I had done so many times before. If I would accept her touch, or turn it against her, as I had done so many times before. If I would run away, as I had done so many times before.

Amid so much guilt, so much pain and so many unpleasant memories that I wanted to forget, her warmth proved to be insufficient. Her compassion and empathy were not enough to calm my heart, no. And I ... I desperately needed to do something right for a change.

So when the first rays of the morning sun shone on my face, I finally dropped her hand. With a slight movement, I let her fingers slip through mine, absorbing every little bit of the strength and courage that they left behind, until nothing was left for me to rely on but the trail of tingling warmth of her touch.

Then, I walked away.

*Bas means unworthy. People outside the Qun.

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A \ N: The happiness of an author is to know that even after weeks without updates, people still follow the story. I know it took me a long time to respond to reviews, but know that each one I received made me smile. So I would like to thank some people.

Mike3207, Bleeding Black Blades, H. Reaver - my faithful readers who have been with me a long time, watching and giving feedback whenever possible. It is your feedback that I gives me the strength to keep writing, despite diffculties and creative blocks. Thanks for your support! Ah, Bleeding Black Blades also writes a very good story about Tabris x Alistair, Mend the Broken. I recommend :)

Umerue - I cannot answer you directly because you do not have an account at FFnet, but know that the feeling of knowing that someone chose my story among so many other wonderful fanfics and got to read 47 chapters at once is indescribable. I have been there on that side, spending nights reading the fanfics of others, and if I can make you feel half the animation that I felt, then my duty is fulfilled. Thanks for the reviews!

LoveTheMix, dark hope1, Meleba - Welcome! I hope you continue on this journey with me, because I still have a lot to happen, and I hope to continue pleasing you :)

wintryone - My dear beta, friend, sister. For almost two years, she has been helping me to translate and correct all the things needed to post these chapters. I know I've said it once, but I'll say it again: Check her work! Her stories are brilliant, and if you are looking for something good to read, I suggest you start by Misadventures of Mari Hawke. You will not regret it.

And speaking of stories, I leave the reminder here about some things.

Eyes of the Heart, the story of Noah's sister, will be updated soon. If you are looking for a love story between a mage and a templar other than the Cullens, this might be a good choice lol

To all, thank you for caring! Yay!