Chapter 32: Rage

At first, all she heard was the beeping, soft and steady. Then the cold, the sharp smell of antiseptic.

That was a smell she would never smell there. It worked, she thought hazily. The mad bastard did it. I can't believe it.

The light crept in through her crusty eyelids. She forced them open, wincing in the now-unfamiliar florescent sterility. A crucifix hung across from her on a white hospital wall. Outside, the cherry blossoms blew in the breeze. Spring again? My God. How long have I been…?

She turned her head, just a little, and they were there, incredibly: her mother, father, and brother, standing by the window, their heads bowed together as they whispered amongst themselves. My family. Still here after all of this time. Was today to be the day, then? Did I catch them just in time? Thank the Maker.

God and the Maker, thought so close together as to be intertwined. Over time, their lexicon had crept in, even though she still had the tendency to recite her own blasphemies when upset. The thought almost made her smile, even though her throat was clogged with tears.

"Errol!"

Her mother was the first to look up and see her, and her shrill cry was music to her ears. Suddenly they were on her, tears streaming down their faces, her mother clutching her hand, her father calling for a doctor.

Errol opened her mouth, just a little. Her lips were cracked and dry, her throat sore. "Mommy?"

"Shhh, it's okay, sweetie, we're here for you," her mother said, her eyes, green as Errol's own, shining with tears.

"It's a miracle," her father whispered reverently.

Errol licked her lips. She was so weak, only a small part of her here, just enough to keep her conscious, not too much to lock her once again into this body. At least that's what Solas had said. "What happened?"

"No one knows," her mother said, brushing hair from her forehead. "They found you in the river. They said you were… that you'd never…"

"They said you were brain dead," her younger brother said brashly, but his voice shook. She smiled a little.

"Hi, Jerk."

"Three days," her mother continued tremulously. "Three days just waiting here, praying, hoping against hope, and now—"

"What do you mean three days?" Errol asked sharply. "Mama, it's been over three years."

Her family stared at her like she was crazy. "Sweetie, what do you mean?" her father asked.

"Maybe it's the knock on the head," her mother said in a hushed voice.

"There's no way—" Errol started.

"Is it so hard to fathom that time might flow differently in two such different places?" The voice was strange, but the cadence familiar. Errol turned her head a bit, and saw a man enter the room.

He wore a white doctor's coat and had slightly frizzy blonde hair and a large nose. He looked like just a man, and felt like just a man. Here, like this, Errol could feel nothing. She had forgotten what it was like, to feel nothing, to live in a world where there was nothing beyond the physical. The absence hurt like a severed limb.

Still, she knew it was him.

"Do what you came to do," Solas said.

"You're here? How? I thought you couldn't — are you— are you possessing him? Can you do that?" Errol asked, trying to sit up and failing. She was so weak. He waved one hand as if to brush the question away.

"It is irrelevant, and we have little time. Do what you came to do."

"Doctor, what are you saying?" Errol's mother asked, rising from her chair.

"I'd like to know what's going on," her father demanded.

"They're saying it's only been three days," Errol said. "Did you know?"

Solas sighed. "I had suspicions that it might be a possibility, but nothing concrete. Still, this changes nothing."

"This changes everything! I came because I thought it was my last chance, because I thought they would cut the cord after all this time. But if it's only been three days, then I might—"

"Might what? Come back to say hello from time to time and risk being trapped here without my guidance? Or come back after your lover dies in our world in a vain attempt to escape, only to discover more misery and lose a piece of yourself you won't be able to regain? You play a dangerous game, and it is time to end it. Do what you came to do, and end this. Free yourself."

"What is going on?" her mother asked, stepping between her and the doctor. "This is ridiculous. I'm calling security."

"Mama." Errol managed the strength to catch her hand. "Mama, please, I'm sorry."

Her parents both turned to her, confusion clear on their faces. She beckoned her brother over from the shadows of the far side of the room, and the bed shifted as he sat at the foot of it. She reached out and took her father's hand too, and felt the weight of its realness.

I am real here, she realized. In a way I never will be again. I am flesh and blood, truly. No one has to linger to make them forget. Her resolve weakened. No one will turn on me if they realize the truth. No one relies on me to save them. No one tries to make me something that I'm not, no one tries to shape me to their will. But—

She thought of Cullen, who she loved so dearly, who she had left like a thief in the night after she promised she would stay. It was a betrayal she wasn't sure he was going to get over quickly, even if she returned as whole - or unwhole - as she had ever been.

"Errol," Solas warned. "Time is short."

"I love you," she said to her family. "That's all I ever wanted to say. I love you. So much has happened. I know it seems crazy, like I've just been lying here dying but I've been places, done things you wouldn't believe. Great things. Terrible things."

"Sweetie," her mother said, touching her forehead. "You're burning up. You're sick. Let us get another doctor in here."

"No, don't rush off," she begged. "Let me have this. Let me tell you that — it's okay. You don't have to worry about me. Don't worry. I'm okay. I love you. I'm just not here anymore. Be happy. I was going to tell you to let me go, but it's only been three days. I can live a lifetime in a few more. Maybe I'll come home. Let me think."

"I'm sorry," Solas said, near her head now, and he did sound truly sorry. "But I can't have you tethered to this place any longer. I have too many plans. It's holding you back. It's holding everything back."

She looked at him, suddenly fearful. "You said—"

"I said you would get to say your goodbyes. You did that. My part of the bargain is complete." He seemed sad. "I told you there would be a price. I do this for your own good. I have known it from the start. Your humanity is a chain that must be broken for something greater to arise."

From the pocket of his lab coat he produced a knife, and before anyone could move he plunged it into her neck. Errol felt it, cold, cold, biting into her skin like teeth, before everything snapped sharp as glass and she went spiraling back down, down down down into the Ferelden woods.

She woke with a gasp, and the world shifted, insubstantial, her form light as air, too mutable, unfixed, driftwood torn from a ship and tossed in the ocean during a storm. Cutting the cord had changed something, made her less than she was. Far less. So he lied about that, too.

It was too much. Pain, betrayal, rage, fear. The worst was the loss: loss of purpose, loss of self, loss of body, loss of humanity, loss of family, loss of hope, loss of faith. She couldn't stay, couldn't leave, couldn't concentrate, couldn't be.

"Control yourself!" he shouted. His mark was still on her neck, fixed, burning, pulling, demanding. Get it off me, get it off! She hated him in that moment. Couldn't believe that she had ever felt another way about him, couldn't believe that she had almost —

Fear, hate, betrayal, loss, pain, rage.

"Errol, no, fix your form, you cannot lose yourself, not now!"

You did this to me!

She tore at the sky. She tore at herself, her weak human figure. She tore at everything.

When Cassandra, Cullen, and the others came upon the battle, they found no trace of her. All they found was him, a rift, and a demon.

She couldn't think. She wasn't even sure she was a She anymore. It wasn't anything. There wasn't anything but the Rage. The heat, the fire, the burning in Its lungs. It felt good, it gave It a purpose, a presence, filled the void, chased out the sadness and the hurt and the questions. Now there was only fire and burning and red red red hate hate hate burn burn burn rage rage rage rageragerage.

You did this to me!

It didn't remember who did what, who said that, felt that. It didn't remember anything before the soothing balm of fire, of Rage. It felt so good, to be coated in flames, to be so big, to be a force of destruction. It would destroy - that was Its purpose. To lash out and burn. To rampage. To fill things with beautiful fire so they burned bright like the insides of It.

Her. It. Which was it?

Errol, Errol can you hear me?

One of the weak creatures was talking. Rage tore with fire but the creature danced away. There was a door there as well, a portal to the world that always changed - no, It didn't want to go there, It wanted to stay here and burn, things didn't burn as brilliantly there!

There were others now, too, fighting, trying to hurt It. It laughed. They could try. It was bigger and harder and more than they could be. It would crush them to cinders and embers and coals.

Something was trying to get inside Its head. It spun around, snarling. Leave, leave!

No, Errol, it's me, Cole, the voice said. You're Errol, the Owl, our Owl, our friend, and we love you.

No! Not Errol, no, the girl that failed, that trusted, the weak little girl, she's gone, she's all burned up, she Rage now, she's an It, a thing that burns! Get out!

We love you! that infuriating voice continued. You're hurt because you loved too much and that made you misstep. You're still you, always you, always the Owl, the girl that saved the world, saved us all. Human, human, human, not Rage, not a demon, never a demon. The Wolf can take your flesh but not your humanity, not your heart, not your love. Look at what you're doing, you are not fire, you are not hate. You are love. You are made of love. Please, Errol, Errol Errol Errol Errol Errol Errol look at him, just look at him.

She It She It She It Rage Errol RageErrolRageErrolSheItShe looked at the humans the elf the God the Betrayer the Wolf the spirit the dwarf the mage the Lion and the Lion looked back at her and he knew, he knew and there was horror in his eyes but it wasn't horror, it wasn't horror at what she was it was fear, not of what she was but fear for her, the love but how could he love the Rage the fire no one could love her no one could love the fire the demon the thing the monster no one could love but the Lion—

The Lion was holding them back, the Lion was telling them not to fight, the Lion was shouting, his sword was drawn but it wasn't pointed at her, Errol, Rage, it wasn't pointed at her, it was keeping them back, it was pointed at him, the Wolf, The Dread Wolf, He Who Hunts Alone, He Who—

You did this to me!

Errol was Rage, and Rage swept the Wolf into the rift, with one parting thought to Compassion.

Make them forget. All but the Lion. Make them forget this one last time.

Then the rift closed, and the flames dripped off of her like so much blood, and she was She again, the Owl and the Wolf in the Fade.

"You pulled yourself back. I am in awe."

Errol took a deep breath, her eyes closed. She still felt painted red, but her skin held. Ten fingers, ten toes. Hair that was singed off grew back. Crimson eyes turned green, skin became skin again, pale and unburnt. Her clothing reformed. Battle gear, but no staff. She didn't need it anymore.

She was no longer human, but she was not a demon. She would never let herself be a demon again.

She opened her eyes, and her voice was steady. "I will not let you change me."

He was looking at her like she was an interesting specimen under a microscope. "I have done nothing but free you from your chains. You are as you were meant to be."

Errol took another calming breath, but the Rage was still there, under her skin. She could be angry without letting it consume her, but it was difficult. "You're a liar."

He inclined his head. "True. But I do not lie about this."

"You planned this from the beginning." He said nothing so she continued, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "The elven word. It means untether. You meant it about me, didn't you? About this? You had me carry it to you from the future. You made me an agent in my own destruction."

"Your destruction?" he snarled, approaching her so quickly she had no time to back away. He grabbed her wrist. "Is that truly what you think this is, even now, even after the power you just displayed? Do you have any idea the massive willpower it takes to pull yourself back from the brink as you just did? You became a demon and made yourself whole again — you are— you can be anything, Errol, anything, I did that for you!"

She jerked her arm away. "You do nothing for anyone but yourself! You have ruined me! I'll never be able to return to the Inquisition now!"

He threw up his hands as if unable to deal with her. "You are forever, insufferably frustrating! It was not supposed to be like this!"

Errol balled her hands into fists, Rage once again licking at her skin. "What was it supposed to be like? Tell me, because I really want to know! What the fuck was it supposed to be like?"

"You were supposed to understand! You were supposed to be better than this! You were supposed to embrace what you are, what you could be, rejoice in your limitless potential, not crawl on your belly in the dirt crying out for mortality, a life that will only bring you stagnancy and death! You lived caged in fear and I have broken that cage! I did this for you because you would not do it for yourself! This was not a betrayal! I freed you!"

"I didn't ask for you to free me!"

"The creature born in a cage will not ask for freedom if it has never known it! It will cower in the dark unless dragged into the light!"

"That's what I am to you? A creature?"

He growled, actually growled like the wolf she knew he was, and stood so close to her she could feel his breath on her face. "Do not focus on semantics to derail the conversation! Whatever your feelings are about this the simple truth remains that you are correct: you cannot return to the Inquisition as you are. You are shifting, changing, growing, in ways you cannot yet control. You must come with me."

Errol pushed him. "You think you're so fucking brilliant," she hissed. "Trap me in an impossible situation so I'm forced to do what you want."

His voice became softer, more cajoling. He caught her hands, trapping them against his chest. "Just because this benefits me as well doesn't mean I'm not doing it for you."

She tried to pull away but he held her there with impossible strength. "Go. Fuck. Yourself."

"You have no choice."

"There is always a choice."

"You became a demon once," Fen'Harel said, in a voice that would be gentle if he wasn't still holding her in a viselike grip. "You could become one again. A demon with the power of the Anchor. You know as well as I do that you cannot let that happen. I am the only one with the knowledge to stop it. Hate me if you must, but you need me."

Errol snarled at him like an animal and bared her teeth. "Let me say this again, louder in case you didn't hear it the first time: GO. FUCK. YOURSELF."

She finally succeed in wrenching herself away from him. He looked at her and the emotions flickered through his eyes so quickly they were difficult to make out: hurt, worried, angry, calculating. They settled on determined as his gaze found the crux of her neck and shoulder. "You will change your mind. You are marked by me. Our destines are bound together."

She touched her neck, cringing as she felt the magic flare. "So what, do you own me or something?"

A muscle in his jaw ticked. "I would never own anyone. I abhor slavery. You're under my protection."

"But you can find me whenever you want. And it will only get stronger as you get stronger."

"Yes."

"It'll make sneaking up on you rather difficult for me."

"You would not have to sneak up on me if you would just lay aside your foolish pride and come with me," he said, once again replacing his mask of infinite patience. "Why would you seek what is freely offered? Errol, your need of me is greater than your fear or your hate or your regret. And I need you, as well."

She wanted to lie to him, to say that she'll stay, to gain his trust and learn his secrets, to betray him for once. But he'd see right through her, she knew that. He was the master of lies and pulling strings, and anything less than true devotion would be sniffed out immediately.

He wants to swallow you whole, the memory of Cole whispered in her mind.

"What do you need me for?" she asked. "Can you tell me that?"

Fen'Harel sighed. "I told you once before you could be kin to Gods. I have opened that door — it's up to you if you choose to step through it. I am the only one who can guide you, make you great, make you new. The world is changing and soon we will not be the only ones with this power. I thought once that I would stand alone and die to make this come to pass. Now I know that need not be the case. With you by my side, I will bring forth a better world and live to shape it. You are angry, but once I explain, once you understand—"

Errol lifted her chin and shook her head in a slow, decisive no. "I gave you thousands of chances to explain over three years, thousands of chances for you to make me understand. You did nothing but lie and brutalize me behind my back. You stripped me of my body and my purpose and now of the ones I love."

"The ones who would turn on you. The ones you had to lie to."

"Do you know what brought me back, when I was a demon? Do you know how I was able to become me again, that massive willpower you spoke of?" Errol said every word carefully, driving it home, keeping her voice measured and clear. "It wasn't me. It was him. I looked into his eyes and there was love even at my most monstrous. You have underestimated everyone from the start, Dread Wolf, myself most of all. Maybe if you had been open, maybe — but you lost your chance. I don't trust this new world of yours if you had to do so much to bend me to your will just so you could bring it about. Most of all, I don't trust you, and that means I have to stop you."

He tilted his head, eyes narrowed but almost smiling, teeth bared. "And how will you do that? I can sense you wherever you are."

"Very carefully, then."

She opened a rift with a pulse of her marked palm. Fen'Harel called from behind her, his voice like breath on the back of her neck, even though he was still standing away from her.

"I won't give up, Errol. I will not lose you."

She stepped through and turned to look at him, her once friend, now rival. "I was never yours to lose."

He made no move to stop her and met her gaze evenly, his back straight, his eyes clear and head held high with the bearing of someone who knew that they were right.

"Until we meet again, vhenan," he said, and Errol closed the rift without another word.