Chapter 53

Betrayal

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"Wait, wait ... what?" Kallian asked, almost choking on the words she had just heard.

Eilleen sighed, plummeting to the empty bed.

"That's what I said." The Dalish pulled the pillow from under her head and placed it over her eyes, covering much of her face. "Zathrian agreed to cooperate."

"Eilleen, take a moment to hear what you're saying." Kallian rose in the bed, resting her weight on her elbows. Strands of her red hair tumbled over her shoulders as she talked to Mahariel.

"I know, I do not trust him either," she replied, without looking at Kallian. "And that's precisely why I'm going with them."

"And that's precisely why I'm worried. Eilleen, something stinks in this story." She turned aside, and now rested her head on one hand. "Zathrian, cooperate?"

Eilleen took the pillow from her face and lifted her head to look at the redhead, as she continued on. "Those are two words that cannot exist in the same context. It's the same thing as using Noah and friendly in a single sentence. And don't give me that look because I know that you can't believe it either."

Mahariel rolled her eyes and buried her face in the pillow again, tightly.

"Trap or not, I have to go." She finally let her arm fall down on the bed again. "I'd give anything to nap for just a half an hour, but they will leave soon. I just came to warn you before..."

The blonde's voice was groggy, and the last words were almost lost in the air. She was relaxed, almost asleep perhaps, and Kallian allowed her take advantage of a minute or two of rest before facing the next part of this long journey.

She looked so peaceful, Kallian thought, as she reclined on the bed again.

Yet, she did not share the same feeling. Since Mahariel had first entered the tent, Kallian had felt a odd tightness building in her chest. It was a strange feeling of suffocation, which could be described as something between panic and foreboding, pulsing through her body as waves of pain, beginning at the mark on her shoulder and ending in the center of her chest. She did not know what it was, but she was too jittery to just lie down and rest, as she had been ordered to earlier.

"Oh shit, tell me I did not sleep," Mahariel sat up in one leap, looking around quickly, completely lost in time.

Kallian smiled, holding the pillow that flew in her direction from the sudden movement of the Dalish. "Only for thirty seconds."

Mahariel sighed in relief, getting up from the bed. "I have to go."

"Shall I come with you?" Kallian asked, sitting up. Since arriving in the Brecilian forest, she had felt completely useless. Had done nothing but give orders and expect everything to work out. She wished she could do something, even though her legs probably would betray her if she tried to stand up.

"And what good would that do?" Mahariel promptly replied, looking at Kaliian over her shoulder. Her skin, which was lighter than Kallian's, made her dark circles appear more prominent, highlighting the green of her eyes, and not in a good way.

"Ouch," Kallian grimaced. Eilleen could not have been more direct.

"Da'shal, I didn't mean it." Mahariel rubbed her eyes. "You're sick, you have to -"

"Rest, I know," Kallian added bitterly. "But that's all I've done lately. If I don't do something, I'm going to go crazy."

Mahariel just put her bow and quiver back, watching the redhead with empathy. She didn't like having their hands tied in this way, either, but there was no other option. Not in her case. The Creators only knew how much she had wanted Kallian to able to solve everything. She always made it look so easy ... The little redhead would surely find a way to solve this whole standoff with only half the effort.

But she could not, and it was no use relying on her to fix things, or counting on her to help them out of this crisis, or that she might find a cure for the curse. She could not let Kallian down, no. And most importantly - could not let Zathrian do what he wanted.

Her desire to stop Zathrian was as intense as Noah's obsession with finding a cure.

"You have something you believe in, Da'shal?" Mahariel asked after she packed up her weapons. The Dalish had been silent for so long that Kallian wondered if she had given up the conversation.

"... No." She replied without thinking much about it. The first response that came to her mind was I believe in hell, the Void itself, but she said nothing. It was not something she wanted to expose, however vague, and her answers always seemed to generate more questions. From the turn the conversation was taking, a simple no would suffice.

"I understand." Mahariel finally said, but did not seem disappointed. From her expression of acceptance, Kallian had the impression that Eilleen would be the only person she'd ever met who would not try to convince her to follow any kind of deity or religion. This made the redhead respect her a little more. "Can I ask you something then? Since you want to help."

"Sure," Kallian replied promptly.

"As soon as I leave ... Pray to Andruil, if possible," she said, and Kallian failed to hide her surprise. "She is my spiritual guide. And, like the forest, offers support for those in need. If your intentions are true, she will listen to your request."

Kallian blushed, more in surprise and at the intensity of her request than from constraint. She was serious when she'd asked, and was so genuine that the little elf felt unable to say no.

Mahariel really thought it would help, and somehow, she could feel the blonde was counting on her. "What should I ask for?" was all she managed.

"Ask that the gods not allow me do anything I will regret when Zathrian shows his claws," she replied, her eyes overwhelmed with hate. All it took was a brief eye contact for Kallian to understand the size of resentment that the blonde held for the Keeper.

All it took was one look to make it clear how personal it was for her.

When Mahariel left the tent, Kallian was sure that if the worst happened, even knowing how powerful Zathrian was, Eilleen would make sure he did not come back alive. And, knowing what the Keeper was capable of, her friend would not come back either.

Kallian wasn't sure if the fault was in her reasoning, or if it was something beyond her control, but her anguish and concern increased, and suddenly the strange feeling she'd felt moments before finally exploded in her shoulder.

The walk through the ruins seemed endless, and it didn't help that Noah could not erase from his disordered mind what had happened the last time he was here with the Dalish.

Maybe it was because he was so bone-weary, or maybe it was because he felt the weight of Zathrian's orders laying on him so heavily. Who knew? Whatever the cause, his eyes kept drifting to her, and his heart felt her indifference to him as a new sort of pain.

This is what he'd thought he wanted, wasn't it? Why did it fill him with rage to think that his kiss meant nothing to her now?

She looked as tired as he felt, but there was no trace of regret on her face as she walked behind the Keeper. What enraged him further was that even with the dark circles under her eyes, and her pale skin flushed from lack of sleep, she was still so blasted beautiful.

He grunted. There was simply no justice in this world.

Yet, Noah couldn't help but feel there was more going on here than he knew, but his tired mind couldn't seem to put the pieces together. He was only sure that he liked none of this - that somehow this whole thing had spun out of his control, and now he was putting them both in horrible danger.

If Eilleen was the key, he was no more than a pawn in this whole debacle of a plan.

"Finally," Zathrian said, satisfied. His gaze was brighter than the rays of sun glistening on his bald head.

Noah grunted again.

They had finally reached the entrance of the ruins, more specifically the stone courtyard among the trees that hid the stairs to the underground. The barrier that belied their passage was completely dispersed, and it was possible to hear the grunts and howls of wolves from inside. They were restless, yes, but no more than him and his fellow warden.

For the first time during the entire trek, Mahariel looked at Noah. She had probably not planned to, because when Noah caught her gaze, she was visibly shaken. The look in her eyes made her seem vulnerable, despite continuing on with the same unwavering determination as she had before. It was a curious contrast, especially with the small traces of color that began to play on her cheeks.

They were standing on the very spot where they'd kissed a few hours before, and the memory caused Noah to be even more bad tempered than ever. Before, he could not endure her callous indifference. Now with her obvious embarrassment, the discomfort in his chest was ten times worse. It was easier to deal with the Dalish being aloof than the sweet nostalgia of something that could never again be repeated.

"Would you be kind enough to guide us to your furry friends?" Zathrian mockingly asked, turning to Eileen. Noah was aware of the aura of anger that hung in the air between them every time their eyes met, and this only confirmed the theory that there was something much bigger happening, without his knowledge.

It was as if the sound of the voice of the Keeper alone was able to change the mood of the elf in a heartbeat.

The Dalish sustained the sneer of the Keeper for brief seconds, until she finally took the lead, walking down the stairs and disappearing into the darkness, without a word. And while her heavy footsteps spread water on all sides, Noah remembered something the Lady had said just before he left the place the first time.

"Who is Alana?" Noah asked, before Zathrian could follow Mahariel.

"Don't be foolish," Zathrian replied after a brief flicker of surprised crossed his features. "Worry about getting the job done, human."

Noah was past caring about the Keeper's high-handed attitude at this point. Yet, he had noticed that small slip of the Keeper's normally composed features, and it answered at least part of his question. Alana obviously was someone important. Just how she was important was something he intended to find out, though he doubted he would survive long enough for it to do any good.

The Lady's voice rose above the deep snarling of the assembled wolves, "Keeper Zathrian, how nice to see you've finally found the courage to face me once again." Her long fingers gestured vaguely in the air before her. "I was afraid you'd sold it, along with your soul."

Zathrian's countenance remained unfazed, despite the explosion of satisfied growling from the dozens of wolves surrounding him. He simply smiled condescendingly and replied, "The last time I saw you, your form was not as pleasing as this one. As I remember, there was blood on your muzzle and bits of skin caught in your fangs?" The Lady's eyes narrowed as a humorless laugh passed the Keeper's lips. "This beautiful disguise of yours does not conceal your true nature from me."

"Enough!" Mahariel's voice cut through the building tension. She took several steps forward into the semi-circle of angry wolves, taking her place next to the Lady, her piercing green eyes focused on Zathrian. "I brought you here so that we might solve this situation, not to make things worse with pointless words." Her chin thrust forward as she said the next words slowly, and with emphasis. "You are not among friends, Zathrian. Keep your sarcasm to yourself!"

Zathrian glared at her defiantly, before turning to the Lady once again.

"The child is right," The Lady spoke before Zathrian had the chance. "There are more important things at stake than our old feud."

"Well," smiled Zathrian confidently, holding his hands behind his back. "It was you who called me here in the first place. You who is wasting precious time, not me."

The furious growl of Swiftrunner stood out among the hundreds of fierce protests that echoed through the great hall, even before Zathrian could finish speaking. The indifferent attitude of the Keeper, who seemed to pretend that none of it had anything to do with him, was inciting the anger in the hearts of the wolves with more intensity than his very presence in their home.

This time the wolves were waiting arranged in a wide semi-circle in the middle of the main chamber - a place gone unnoticed by the Wardens the first time they'd been there because of the deep darkness that had penetrated every corner, but which was now completely illuminated. It was beautiful, and Mahariel would have been awestruck if she weren't so tense about their precarious situation.

The great room not only had glowing torches fastened all along the walls, but there was also a slim crack in the center of the ceiling, where the morning sun streamed in gracefully, bathing the stone with its soft light. Perhaps, Noah thought, this place had once been a big hall for celebrations, or even a place of prayer, with its beautiful ceiling glass and large rugs scattered everywhere. But now, it was just the broken remains of its former glory, and ironically, a perfect place for someone like him.

"Zathrian ..." Mahariel growled between her teeth, in a warning tone.

"But despite everything, I'm willing to listen," he continued with his idiotic remarks, as if the Dalish had not spoken at all. Noah just watched the entire scene in silence, torn between anger at the Dalish for being there, and Zathrian, for treating her so badly. "I woke up feeling generous today. Only, do not abuse my good will, yes?"

"Your generosity is certainly vast, to end with the same curse you began with!" Swiftrunner growled, finally losing control and advancing to the center of the circle, stopping once he reached the Lady's side.

Zathrian lifted a hand, frowning. "Keep the dog away from me. We have a deal."

The Lady imitated his gesture of disgust, putting a protective hand on the russet werewolf's massive arm. "I must keep my companions away from you, yes. But you have the Wardens as your bodyguards; Swiftrunner is mine - He will remain."

Swiftrunner let out a grunt of satisfaction, and a vein of anger jumped on the Keeper's forehead.

"We both know the real reason for this meeting, Zathrian," The Lady continued. "You created this curse, hundreds of years ago, and it's past time for you to end it. Hundreds of people have fallen, thousands still suffer - both humans and elves. The question that remains is, how many must yet suffer for your ego to feel satisfied? How many souls have to endure this agony until you decide to finally put a stop to it all?"

Noah frowned.

Zathrian had alerted the Warden about the dirty tricks that Witherfang might use against him; to convince them that the wolf was the victim rather than the villain. "That's exactly what demons do," the Keeper had told him. "Try to distort reality to inspire confidence in the unsuspecting, only to stab them in the back when their guard finally subsides. Even her appearance - a beautiful woman with delicate features and provocative curves - was chosen especially to inspire fragility and innocence, when in fact it hides a cruel and ferocious wolf."

There was no sense in what she said, anyway. He believed that Zathrian was a highly dangerous and powerful man, able to actually curse the entire forest if he so chose. But, if that were true and he really had brought hell to this land, why allow the problem to escape his control? Why not end the curse once the evil had reached his own people? Unless, he again wondered, there was something vital the Keeper kept hidden from them all. What could be important enough that the lives of his own clan seemed small in comparison?

Zathrian did not seem like the type to leave any loose ends in his plans. He always seemed to be in control of everything and everyone, Noah thought. It would be easier to blame the Keeper and simply plunge his huge sword into the elf's stomach as revenge for all the things he had done. Yet, the human had to admit the the Lady's argument had more inconsistencies than he would have liked.

"Are you going to blame me for everyone that you bit and infected, as well?" Zathrian snapped, visibly unmoved. "The blood of them all is on your hands, you know."

The Lady smiled, "My hands are as dirty as yours."

"Everyone knows that you have a stake in this shit, Zathrian," Mahariel said, too impatient to remain quiet any longer. "Nobody cares about the amount of blood that is on the hands of either one of you. It doesn't matter who started it - This has to stop, now!"

"And you, daughter of Aldor, are sure you have chosen the right side?" Although he was speaking to Mahariel, Zathrian had not turned directly toward her. He never did. "Do you really think your Lady truly desires the good of all, as she says? Do you really believe in her absolute benevolence?"

"You didn't expect I would believe in yours, did you?" Mahariel replied sarcastically. She crossed her arms, planting her feet firmly on the ground as if she was not only saying she wouldn't leave, but also saying that her position was as firm as before.

"Your clan, Mahariel, has always suffered the same defect." He continued walking indifferently around the edges of the semi circle, as if the wolves were no more than simple decorations. "Especially your father." He came to a halt, facing Swiftrunner, and the great wolf had to control himself from sinking his fangs into the neck of the Keeper.

"Don't you dare talk about my father, you…!" Her green eyes burned into him so strongly that they seemed hold bright flames. Noah thought that if the Void in fact existed, it would be covered in flames just like those - strong and deadly, and equally beautiful. "You have no right ..."

"He had the ability to infect even those who did not share his blood with his despicable arrogance," he continued, smiling with satisfaction to see that his provocation was working. "Always thinking they own the truth, they are always right. Preferring to risk their mediocre little lives, rather than admit a mistake ..."

Mahariel already had her hand on the handle of her hunting knife before anyone noticed. She was willing to keep the peace between the two opposing sides, in order to resolve the impasse, and that included silently enduring the taunts of Zathrian. However, using the name of her father that way was really just too much. To mock the name of her family was much more than she was willing to endure.

The Lady was still frowning deeply, and even though she had not taken her eyes off the Keeper for a second, she touched Mahariel's hand gently and subtly. The fingers of the Dalish loosened their grip on the knife-hilt, allowing blood to re-circulate back into the tips of her white fingers.

Eilleen felt a sense of peace invading her soul, being transmitted through the fingers of the Spirit of the Forest, as if she was telling the elf to stay calm and not lose control. It was a warm and welcoming energy, and despite being different from the healing spells she was used to, it spread through her body just as powerfully.

It was similar to how the forest communicated with her - and again she could not explain it, but her whole life she had always been aware of what was happening around her, as if Andruil herself were whispering her wishes in her ear.

And Mahariel, she trusted Andruil. Trusted in the forest. So, without any resentment, she dropped her hold on the knife.

"One day you'll bite your own tongue, Zathrian. And I pray that Andruil allows me to be there that day, because I'd be more than happy to see you choking on your own poison."

"You're missing the point," said Noah - his first sentence since he joined Zathrian that morning. "Zathrian is not the enemy. Not in this room. ... He did not..."

"For the love of the Creators, Noah, Shut up," Mahariel cut him off angrily. "You're not part of this - do not give opinions on what you know nothing about."

Noah glanced at her sharply, obviously surprised, but he held his tongue.

"And neither do you," Zathrian said, clearly amused. "But there you are. Speaking."

Mahariel had to once again fight the urge to fly at Zathrian's throat. She felt so angry at the Keeper, the feeling seemed to cover her body in pinpricks like a contagious disease. For a moment she wondered if this was the type out of uncontrollable anger that Alistair had felt when he became a wolf. She could control herself, of course, and the comparison did not seem fair. However, she could imagine this whole situation exploding like a huge fireball, and for a brief moment, the enraged reactions of the Warden-wolf seemed oddly understandable, despite that they were far from justified.

"You chose your side without even knowing the facts, so therefore I do not blame you -. Irresponsibility and arrogance are in your blood." He kept talking, as if everything else around him was irrelevant. "You think she is kind, unselfish. You believe what she told you about everything that is happening?"

"And what she-"

"She told you about the Hermit who lived in this forest?" Zathrian asked, again ignoring the Dalish when she tried to speak. But then, he waited for an answer.

"The Mad Hermit? From The Tales from the Forest?" she asked, but changed the question, just knowing that he would not answer. "A crazy human mage, who placed a huge tower into a small piece of wood he carried with him." She scratched her chin contemplatively. "I do not see how a story created to scare children has anything to do with this."

"And it is because of this limited view that I am the Keeper and you are just a child, who is not wanted by any of the clans." Zathrian smiled, and Noah closed his hands into fists against his hips. "The Hermit is as real as all who are in this room."

The aged elf seemed to be enjoying this game of words, but there was a limit to Noah's tolerance, especially for humiliation. All his previous anger toward the Dalish, from all that had transpired, was now slowly being directed toward the Keeper.

He hated that the blond teased him, butting heads with his pride as Kallian always did when they fought. And he, for some reason not yet defined - perhaps for the sake of rivalry, a kind of inexplicable respect, or simply because that was how things were and he never bothered to question them - there were things he could tolerate (and even admire ) in the little redhead, but could not accept this kind of challenge, in this particular situation from Eilleen. Not from her.

But Zathrian was mowing down the pride of the Dalish, like a small boy tearing apart a poor moth - pulling each of its wings slowly and painfully. And that was something that disturbed his peace of mind more than any stupid rivalry he might have created.

But he said nothing. He was too tangled in the Keeper's web to turn against him now.

The only one who seemed unfazed by everything happening around them was the Lady, who, even after Zathrian spoke, remained calm. Even the wolves were agitated, angry with the old elf and his snide remarks, but she did not react.

She just watched in silence as Zathrian continued his arrogant speech, before any of them could protest.

"I ask you, the lone survivor of the Mahariel clan, did your Lady tell you that she infected our so-called fairy tale character? Did she tell you that she attacked him in such a cruel and merciless way that only the shadow of his former self remained after the curse was forced upon him?"

Mahariel narrowed her eyes at this information, still uncertain of where he was going, but what really surprised her was the slight tension that she felt coming from the Lady. It was only a split second, but it was enough to raise the hair on her head.

That subtle warning, indicating that things were heading down paths that were not at all nice.

"Your Lady told you that after the poor old man was destroyed, something went very wrong?" Zathrian continued, with the enthusiasm of an Inquisitor. "Your Lady told you that the power the of the hermit was stronger than hers or mine, and the sway she held over those fleabags was not enough to control them?"

Swiftrunner roared, a powerful, intense roar that forced Zathrian into silence for a moment.

"This is supposed to impress me?" Eilleen asked, trying to push away the bitter taste of bad feeling in her mouth. "Why, the sad fate of a human mage does not affect me more than rain on a hot day."

"I thought not." The keeper kept his eyes on the Lady all the time, and even when the dialogue was directly directed toward Eilleen, his attention was never on the girl. He grinned before continuing. "Your Lady Witherfang told you that from biting the hermit, his madness blended so perfectly with the wildness of his nature that lost all control? That he began indiscriminately, attacking everything that moved? Were they animals, elves, human... or even Darkspawn?"

The chill at the nape of Mahariel's neck turned into a lump in her throat, and suddenly the air started to freeze in her lungs.

"She told you that he consumed infected meat until his madness completely dominated his self-awareness, until he started attacking his own kind?" The Keeper continued, relentless. "She told you how many he bit - rather viscously, just as she had done with him - Turned into beasts as crazy and insane as he was? That he and his crazy warriors left her command and formed their own pack? She told you she completely lost control of the situation?"

Mahariel opened her mouth to answer, but then closed it, unsure of what to say.

"I told you, I woke up this morning feeling generous. I've made it easy for you and will give you all the answers," Zathrian even answered her own question. "No, she did not tell you that she cannot fix the problem that she herself has created, and that she is only interested in this truce because the hermit is killing her dogs. Such is the truth." He opened his arms, as if daring anyone there to say otherwise. "There is no goodness in her, only a strong investment in her own interests. You have been manipulated, and you went straight for her. Good job."

"You're lying ..." Mahariel breathed, finally seeking the peaceful look that the Lady had offered her before. But the spirit of the forest was so quiet, so secluded in herself, it was as if she was not even there.

"Yes? Now. Did you see the wolves that attacked you when you entered the Brecilian? Black as night, the horrible scars?" Zathrian asked, this time addressing Noah. "Those marks are how the Hermit destroyed their bodies almost to the death, so that only the strong survived. The taint strips the colors from its forms, and near the neck - the place of the main bite, the coup de grace - it's so damaged that it never heals completely, leaving only a massive wound where the blackened skin is exposed. "

Noah wanted to find some fault in all this, but all the information made perfect sense. The wolves that attacked them in the forest were exactly like that - insane and mistreated, covered in scars. He could still see the unfocused looks and hyperactive intensity in them that, even before death, seemed to be unable to focus on anything.

Insane, the same as everyone who lost their sense of self because of the taint, with a touch of cruelty and a lot of uncontrolled savagery.

"Still think I'm lying?" Zathrian asked, but it was not exactly the kind of question that required an answer. "Simply remember those parts of the veins in your friend's neck, where she was bitten."

Black veins, marks that tainted those intended for madness.

Mahariel's nails dug into her palms, and she felt her flesh tearing as her fingers closed into fists.

How she hated it all.

Zathrian had not made one logical mistake in his explanation, and things made so much sense that it hurt. She must have known it would end this way. The Keeper never entered a game in which he could not win, and what most concerned the young Dalish was what would follow.

He definitely did not come this far just to expose their arguments. He needed to be recognized as on the right side of history, he needed to win. And if the truce was not the goal - which she'd suspected from the beginning - then all remaining prospects for that meeting were less than pleasant.

"How did you ..." Noah mused, failing to hide his surprise. The Keeper knew a lot of details, which he was sure none of his group had every said to anyone. The human could hear the Keeper's proud voice echoing in his mind, saying, Nothing happens in my forest without me knowing, Warden, in response to his question. But to know the Keeper had more up his sleeve than he had guessed? That was an unpleasant surprise for sure.

Not that the human had any hope that Zathrian was delivering all their plans for them on a silver platter, but to hide the existence of a second Witherfang? That was a little frustrating, and Noah could not help but feel betrayed.

It was a huge crack in the little confidence that existed between the two, but it was too late to question. He had no choice - in fact, he was convinced that once again he would be forced to remove all thoughts from his mind and just observe how the situation would evolve.

It would be worth it in the end.

"Disappointed?" Zathrian asked triumphantly, exposing a wide and devilish smile of satisfaction.

"I'd be lying if I said no," Eilleen confessed, casting a thoughtful sidelong glance at the Lady, who didn't seem to be any more tense than Zathrian, but there was something in her posture that had changed dramatically. Like something that was once cloudy and uncertain, and had become suddenly clear; She could not tell for sure, but it was not enough to shake the confidence that she had in the spirit of the forest; the confidence she'd conveyed to the Dalish. Mahariel then sighed, after thinking about it, turning her attention to the Keeper. "But no matter how many different werewolves exist in this forest - once this is over, the threat will disappear as a whole"

The Lady smiled, pleased to hear her answer.

"Feralclaw is a tough child," the Spirit spoke, as if all the charges against her were just a refreshing breeze caressing her face. "All the souls that I redeem undergo complex stages in their metamorphisis. Some last longer than others, and require greater understanding and commitment, but ..."

"And some attack their own companions, like the wild beasts they are," Zathrian interrupted her, looking straight at the wolf form of Alistair.

He was backed into a corner, just watching the whole situation. He didn't seem to have been shaken by anything that had happened so far, but the mention of the attack on Kallian left him clearly uneasy. As if the Keeper had thrown a boulder at his face, Alistair retreated into the shadows. If before he felt no motivation to take his rightful place in the chorus of hate that echoed off the stone walls, now he was repulsed by everything.

He was unaware of what was happening, or who these people were - did not recognize any of them. He was a creature made of moments, moved by feelings only. He knew the things that resonated with his own nature, and what was dangerous to him - knew that the Lady was something good, a refuge in the storm; and that the Keeper was like a big star going supernova - as bright as it was destructive.

He knew he should join his brothers against Zathrian and demonstrate his loyalty to the one who gave him shelter - join with those who were now a part of his nature - but his loyalty was not larger than the hole in his chest, no. As the Lady had said, something prevented him from embracing his true nature. Something so strong that it would not allow him to finally let go of the pain, and embrace this new life before him, which was . bathed in impulses and instincts, without a shred of rationality.

It was as if a heavy shackle was tied to his foot, impeding him from drinking the waters of the oasis of his release. Despite the knowledge that he could be free of this unendiing pain if he simply stopped fighting it, he couldn't. He could not forget her. Could not forget the impish smile, or the eyes that shone in all the dark places of his soul. Could not forget… her touch.

Kallian… That name was carved into the deepest part of his core. It was stronger than the curse running in his veins, and was more important than the air he breathed. He may not be able to understand what those fragments of memories were trying to say, but he trusted his instincts - and every single part of his being was pulling him towards the little elf's side.

He would not forget her, no matter what. He was sure of this. He would fight for her until his last breath.

"Your speeches are always filled with lavish words, Witherfang, but they are just that - pretty words," Zathrian continued his speech. "Covering a corpse with silk can deceive the eyes of fools, but the truth is you can not change the fact that what lurks beneath the beautiful shroud is nothing but a dead body."

But know that naming your pets does not make them human.

Listening to Zathrian basically paraphrase the sentence that Noah had spoken the night before, made Mahariel feel nauseous. It wasn't as if the human was responsible for this terrible curse, or for the damage caused to the land, but hearing anything that might put him at the same level as Zathrian, however small, was enough to repulse her almost immediately.

Especially coming from Noah.

She'd never had significant expectations for him, but since he'd returned from his long and lonely quest in the forest, she had secretly deposited some kind of hope in what was once considered a lost cause. That perhaps this new understanding about their similar pain, about his past and about the truth of the human behind the demon disguise, had combined to open a breach in the impassable wall that had always been between the two; that this new understanding might mean she could expect more from him than she'd originally thought - good stuff, indeed, though she'd not yet known it. That was disappointing, because she'd had some small hope that some good would come out of it all - or rather, she wanted him to choose the right side - not the contrary.

The truth was that she realized she was in a war of three sides - The side of Zathrian and the elves and his delusion, the Lady and her wolves, and Noah, who was also on her own side. And each one was involved in lies, games and subtle plots. Nothing was what it seemed, and everyone had something they were not revealing. Even her own companion, who refused to reveal exactly what deal he had made with the Keeper.

And at some point, there would be only two sides, and the Wardens would have to choose their alliances. Definitely, she would side with the Lady, both because she thought the Lady was right (regardless of the lies) and that she would never stand beside Zathrian.

But what about Noah?

Would she have to stand against him, since clearly the human would not budge? How far he was willing to go to honor the deal he had made with Zathrian? And more importantly, what exactly was the deal?

She did not want to confront Noah, but would if she had to.

Kallian was counting on her to take care of him, but Eileen definitely did not have the same gift in dealing with the human. So, if the time came, she must put the end of the curse above the human, so that redhead was cured and could take care of him by herself.

"You cannot-" The Lady began, but soon Mahariel cut in, her voice drowning out all others, even the growls of the wolves.

"If you're not here to accept your guilt, nor to argue, what's your plan?" She came face to face with the Keeper. "I know you well, Zathrian, I know you wouldn't come here for no reason."

"I told you my goal when we left the camp - I came to solve the problem," he replied indifferently, but pulled his staff from his back. "But I will solve it my way!"

"I knew you were up to something!" Mahariel pulled the bow from her back, and was ready with an arrow to be launched, though it was pointing at the ground.

"You don't want to do this, Zathrian!" Swiftrunner growled, like everyone else, but clearly the Lady was keeping the wolves in their places with some sort of silent code, because neither of them moved even an inch.

"Zathrian, we had a deal!" This time it was Noah growling, retreating a few steps back. It was with some relief that she saw the human unsheathing his sword, cautiously positioning himself beside Eilleen in opposition to Zathrian.

"Maybe I've changed my mind." He pointed his staff at the Lady, who remained unshaken. In her eyes, a silent challenge launched in the direction of the Keeper, as if daring him to fulfill his threats. "I'll take your heart, Witherfang. And if you think you're so much better than than me, wolf," he said to Swiftrunner. "Then I dare you to try to stop me."

"Challenge accepted!" Swiftrunner shouted, advancing rapidly toward the Keeper, and a general confusion spread throughout the room.

Werewolves who shared the same impulsive instincts flew into a violent attack on the Keeper. Others, including Alistair, remained still, anxiously waiting for an order that the Lady never gave.

Hexes flew indiscriminately around the great hall, erupting from both the fingers and the staff of the Keeper - small balls of multi colored energy, which left trails of sparks wherever they went. The beams writhed in circles and large, bright tangles that never touched, but that together created works of art in mid-air, before colliding painfully against the body of the wolves.

Those affected fell with a thud on the stone floor, completely unable to move. The only thing they could do was bite the air while growling, as if encouraging others to finish what they had started.

However, Zathrian was too strong - there were few wolves who managed to get close to the Keeper, and yet were not strong enough to even make a scratch on him. One by one they fell, and - whether intentional or not - only Swiftrunner was left standing.

The red wolf jumped with the precision of an eagle toward the Keeper, targeting the large, bulging vein on Zathrian's neck, but the mage just moved swiftly out of the way, leaving the wolf to slam against the big door.

"You are the darling of Witherfang, her favorite." Zahrian smiled, and from his sadistic and challenging laughter he seemed sure who would win the war. "Come on, dog!" he challenged. "Do your worst!"

Mahariel soon realized what he wanted to do - to humiliate and destroy Swiftrunner, the Knight of the Lady, in front of everyone, and she advanced, pointing her bow at the Keeper.

"Stay away from Swiftrunner!" She pulled the string, but the arrow never left her bow.

"He's mine!" Swiftrunner growled, louder than all, and Eilleen retreated. The Dalish looked back to the Lady, looking for any sign whether she should proceed or not, but she remained silent; quiet, as if enjoying the serenity and calm of her new resolution.

Mahariel sighed, feeling overwhelmed with it all. There was so much pride in the room that it was getting hard to breathe. But this wasnt' her fight, so she just lowered her bow and waited in silence. She could hear Noah behind her, his breathe as fast as Swiftrunner's.

She wondered if he was as tense as she was.

Meanwhile, Zathrian danced with Swiftrunner in the center of the hall. A large circle formed around them, filled with expressions expectantly staring at the scene. But no matter what the wolf did, or how much ferocity and brutality he applied in each stroke, Zathrian always escaped unharmed.

Wards, sparks, hexes ... Charms of all kinds flew from his hands, but none of them ever came to present any real danger. Most of them just singed the fur of the wolf, pulled his foot, pinched his skin ... All to upset his balance, break his pride and weaken his morale before the group.

And when the gasps of Swiftrunner passed from excess adrenaline to fatigue, one hex as golden as the sun, tied the wolf by the neck. The strings of power were shaking so hard that his fur was quickly soaked in red, the blood running down his body as he choked. His legs gave way beneath him, and soon the wolf was kneeling on the floor.

"Watch as your champion falls, Witherfang!" Zathrian announced, placing a hand on top of the bright head of Swiftrunner.

Tension returned again to the aura of the Lady, and she finally manifested herself - took several steps forward and raised a hand, conjuring thick and thorny vines under Zathrians feet.

The mage then jumped back, releasing Swiftrunner's hex and barely escaping the fierce attack of the Lady. The only damage done was a long tear in his robes, leaving one of his long legs exposed.

Despite having gotten the attention of Lady, Zathrian was beaming. The Lady on the other hand, had a stormy expression on her face. Swiftrunner was not thought to be so vunerable as he had been, and Mahariel might feel in her own heart all the stress and anxiety she'd felt facing the imminent death of her champion. And now she knew that the war was about to explode.

"Let's get this over with," the Lady said, her dark eyes shining with expectation. Her nails lengthened even more, and her body began to convulse slightly, as Alistair's had once done. Her teeth began to lengthen, and the words she spoke sounded much more feral than sweet. "Once and for all."

Zathrian smirked, and using a force spell, pushed Swiftrunner away from his path.

The Dalish was tense, wondering what to do next. And just at the moment where she began planning what she and Noah would do, a muffled sound echoed in the room's center, and a sharp pain hit her chest. She soon felt her legs go weak, and had to lean on the bow itself not to fall.

Although there was no type of air current in the room that could cause such an effect, it seemed that someone had ignited dynamite to blow up the air right near them, strong and merciless, whose only proof of its existence was the sound of blood dripping on the stone floor.

Swiftrunner bellowed in pain and a grotesque sound escaped him that mixed sadness and anger, and which seemed very much like the sound of thunder. Nothing had happened to him, but it seemed that various knives had been driven into his flesh from his pain-filled groans. Zathrian, on the other hand, was satisfied. He seemed to have done nothing - he'd barely moved, so none of it made sense to the Dalish.

It took a few seconds until she finally looked back, and the reality had hit her like a second dynamite, that exploded in the middle of her stomach.

The Lady was standing now with no trace of savagery or impending transformation. Her eyes were wide and without the glare from before; her arms hung limply at her sides. A thin trickle of blood dripped from her mouth, open and gasping, and in the middle of her exposed breasts, the tip of a silver blade appeared, brutally breaking the soft skin of her chest. Blood dripped from the wound, as all the wolves seemed to bleed along with her. The only sound that could be heard were the howls of pain from Swiftrunner, echoing incessantly and raucously ever since his eyes caught sight of his beloved Lady being attacked in such a cowardly and dirty way.

And holding the handle of the sword that impaled the relentless Spirit of the Forest, was Noah, with his usual angry expression, but with the empty eyes of a killer.