Chapter 10

The Imperial Highway would have been the most spectacular piece of infrastructure Aaron had ever seen, had he not spent the last decade exploring the Deep Roads. Even in its current state of disrepair, the elevated road still cut unnaturally, unerringly through the landscape, remaining perfectly level despite the rolling hills below. Parts were clearly still standing only by dint of the magic used in their construction. From far above, it looked like a great pale blade that bisected the land.

The best thing about the surface, Aaron reflected, was that there was no limit to how high he could fly. Aaron observed the dense, autumnal forest through the kaleidoscopic vision of thousands of individual eyes. His decentralized body flowed through the air as a dense swarm of black, blighted wasps, spiraling through the great Tevinter pillars above the mounted forms of Cassandra and Varric. It had taken most of the day to descend from the mountains and reach the Highway, but now that they had, their collective speed had increased tremendously. It was nothing compared to the distance Aaron could cover if he pushed himself, but Aaron didn't particularly mind. Waiting on his escort gave him plenty of time to think.

The Surface was truly a vast, majestic place. He had only spent a little time on the Surface during the war in Amaranthine. He had gone about mostly at night, for the Surface was no place for a darkspawn, not even one with free will. At the time, he'd been mostly preoccupied with tracking the Warden-Commander and reporting back to the Mother. It was only now that he was able to truly appreciate the stunning beauty of the Surface, and interact with its strange inhabitants.

Aaron's earlier conversation with Varric and Cassandra had gone quite well, he thought, though he was still unnerved by the unpredictable outcomes and rapid pace of speaking with them. For too long, he had been a passive observer, watching the Memories, and before that, he had obeyed the Mother in all things as a substitute for the Song of the Old Gods. Aaron liked to think he had enough self-awareness to realize that this had put him at a disadvantage.

At least things hadn't turned out as badly as he had feared. With his true nature now known to Sister Leliana and his shapeshifting known to Varric and Cassandra with little negative consequence, Aaron felt a sense of peace come over him that he had been lacking for the past week.

That is, until a Fade rift appeared in the distance.

Aaron banked on thousands of pairs of black wings, all the pieces of himself cascading down before the advancing horses of Varric and Cassandra. They pulled back on the reins, urging their horses to a stop. Aaron's swarm briefly formed a silhouette like his body before he released his hold on the form, allowing his true body to reassert itself with a flash of golden light. The change was so smooth and practiced that he didn't even stumble as his full weight settled on his feet.

Varric and Cassandra's horses did not like this development one bit, and they skittered back a few paces from him.

"What is it?" Cassandra called out.

"Fade rift," Aaron said in a neutral tone. "Straight ahead, perhaps half a mile. It's at the base of an embankment on the south side of the Highway. We may have to detour around it."

Cassandra's brows knit together. "Detour? What are you talking about? You need to destroy it."

Aaron cocked his head in confusion. Surely she didn't think he could destroy rifts from such a distance? Actually, Aaron had never tested that empirically. He mentally chided himself for making such assumptions, and looked closely at the mark. It seemed to be dormant, glowing a placid green with nary a spark in sight. No power coursed through it as it did when he came within close range of a rift. The mark's feeling of prickly numbness barely felt there anymore unless he paid attention to it, like a ring that had been worn so long that its absence was felt more strongly than its presence.

Aaron held out his left hand experimentally in the rough direction of the rift and willed a portion of his mana into his mark, or at least the part of his palm that he associated with the mark. After a few seconds, nothing had happened.

"What are you doing, Fluffy?" Varric asked incredulously.

"Attempting to use my mark," Aaron said, lowering his arm. "Honestly, this feels futile. I don't think I can affect rifts unless I'm right next to them."

Cassandra dismounted from her horse, took a moment to stretch, and started leading the horse forward. "That isn't a bad thought, but we already know what works. Let us go defeat the demons and be done with it."

"What?" Aaron blurted, staring at her in shock. "You—but we're—there's only three of us!"

Cassandra raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. "Yes. And sealing rifts is what we are here to do. Is that a problem?"

Aaron paused, biting back his first few responses. He took a deep breath. "Yes, that does present a problem. I assumed that you two would be escorting me to this Mother Giselle, not that we would be expected to fight hordes of demons with no Inquisition reinforcements whatsoever."

Cassandra scoffed. "We could barely scrape together the resources to scout ahead and establish a forward camp in the Hinterlands, and it hardly takes a battalion of soldiers to pacify one single rift. It's the number of them that's concerning, hence the urgency of destroying every one we find as soon as possible."

Not for the first time, Aaron was annoyed that the armor he wore did not allow him to rub his temples when he became frustrated. "I'm not saying... Let me start over. This isn't a matter of prowess or courage, it's a matter of strategy. I am—or, more accurately, the mark is the only thing in the known world that can seal these Fade rifts. There is zero margin of error. If I am struck down by a lucky blow from some demon, if we few are overwhelmed in battle, the consequences for the world would be unthinkable. You have to weigh the costs against the benefits—the positive outcome of our little trio sealing a single rift is simply not justified when weighed against even a small probability of losing the entire world."

Varric stroked his chin thoughtfully from atop his horse. "He has a point, Seeker. We've seen the nasties that can come out of these things. It might not be worth the risk to go after all the little ones before we use him against the Breach."

"And I have seen what carnage is wrought when demons are allowed free reign," Cassandra said icily. "Your justifications for inaction seem all the more lofty and righteous when you do not have to bear witness to the consequences. If you two will not do anything, then I shall."

Aaron's guts felt like they had turned to ice. Cassandra's words had cut straight to Aaron's own private fears, the nagging suspicion in the back of his mind that his logic for avoiding the rifts was being swayed by selfishness and cowardice. "I... I don't think you're wrong about that. I don't want to sound like I'm endorsing apathy. But taking unilateral action is also wrong, even if your death doesn't carry the same potential for catastrophic consequences. Not to say that your life is inconsequential, but—"

Cassandra waved her hand dismissively. "I swore to uphold the ideals of the Chantry and the Seekers of Truth. I draw power from that conviction. With that comes the responsibility to act upon the power I am granted, lest I lose it."

That certainly put things in a different light. Aaron wondered just how literal she was being. Did the powers of Templars and Seekers truly atrophy in such a way? It was a fascinating thought, if true, and held rather uncomfortable implications about their behavior.

"If one of us goes, we all have to go," Varric said, joining Cassandra in dismounting. "No matter how badass your crazy demon-slaying powers are, someone has to watch your back, Seeker. And if Fluffy doesn't come with us to close the rift, then it'll just keep throwing demons at us forever."

Aaron sighed. If this was what the phenomenon of 'group conformity' was like, he suddenly understood why so many people had difficulty resisting it. For some irrational reason, the nearly certain prospect of disappointing his new companions seemed to take precedence in his mind over the distinct possibility of losing his life and ending the world, which made no sense whatsoever.

"I will go," he said at last. "But first, I insist that we go into this prepared. We need to discuss tactics. Who will be leading us? Varric?"

The dwarf suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "Oh, uh, giving orders isn't really my forte, Fluffy. I get too focused on trying to shoot the bad guys, and trying not to shoot the good guys."

"It is my duty to protect you, Ser Aaron. I will follow your lead." Cassandra said, her voice resolute.

Aaron looked from one to the other, desperately wishing that one of them would take this responsibility from him. "I was a scout, not a general. I tracked, sabotaged, and ambushed. That is the extent of my combat experience. I've never led others in battle directly. I have a theoretical knowledge of how ancient dwarven legionnaires are commanded, and that is all. You can't expect me to lead."

"You will learn," Cassandra said, and a wry smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "There are three of us, Ser Aaron. You are hardly being expected to command an army. Much as I wish we had one."

"...Fine." Aaron said, taking his staff off his back. It felt like a thin, flimsy twig in his hands compared to Lothak's heft, and the enchantments felt similarly lacking. If he was being honest with himself, he was afraid. Facing a Pride demon five times his size would do that. Subsequently losing a sparring match to a human female only half his size had done little to improve Aaron's confidence. "If something goes wrong, if the demons are too powerful or too numerous, we retreat. I will change shape if I need to escape. Cassandra, you are our expert on fighting demons. Do you know if it is better for all of us to concentrate on killing each demon successively, or engaging them all at once?"

Cassandra furrowed her brow in thought for a few moments. "It depends. For a small group like ours, though, it is generally better to stay close and join efforts to defeating one demon at a time. At least, that is how it has been in my experience."

Aaron nodded, but the thought gave him pause. Staying close meant that if he were struck a serious wound, they might see that his blood was black and tainted, or worse, become infected by it. At least his silverite armor and naturally thick hide helped mitigate that risk. He had more to fear from broken bones and dislocated limbs. If it did happen, though, Aaron decided that transforming immediately would be the best policy in any case, as it would hide the wound and also help him escape.

There was no predicting what might happen in a battle, though. Dunammar's Memories were quite clear on that particular point. Aaron would just have to see what happened, and adapt accordingly.

"Let's go." Aaron said, taking the lead.

The sun was beginning to set when they had reached the Fade rift. They had left the horses on the Imperial Highway, reasoning that very few potential horse-thieves would be on the Highway heading towards Haven and the giant demonic hole in the sky.

They descended from the Highway on one of the regularly-placed access stairways—most of which led to absolutely nothing except centuries' worth of abandoned campfires and improvised privies used by people who had bedded down for the night while traveling the Highway. This section was so remote, however, that the leaf-strewn stairs simply terminated on the side of a wild, forested hill. There was barely a trail.

At the base of the hill was a broad, rocky streambed. Perhaps a foot of clear water ran over the smooth tan and gray stones. Hanging in the air above the stream, partially enclosed by the dusky canopy of trees on both sides, was a tear in the fabric of the world. It gave Aaron chills to watch as the green, crystalline structures punctured the nothingness with a shrill, percussive sound, only to grind away and recede again before being replaced by another. It was otherworldly and oddly hypnotic to watch.

"Do you see any demons?" Aaron asked in a low whisper, despite the fact that the rift still lay at least thirty yards away.

"We're clear," Varric replied, just as softly. He carried his crossbow loosely in his hands, aiming it at nothing in particular.

Aaron let out a breath he'd been holding. Now that things were less urgent, Aaron wanted to convince Varric and Cassandra to undergo a bit of observation and experimentation. He hadn't exactly been in a fit state to experiment with the prior rifts he'd faced, but if he failed to do so here in a more controlled setting, he may as well give up his self-proclaimed scholarly mantle.

"As it stands, we know nothing of this mark," Aaron said, turning his hand up to look at the scar of light on his palm. "We should take this opportunity to investigate it, and how the rifts work."

Cassandra dipped her head in acquiescence, and Varric grinned.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked.

"I noticed the mark and the rifts react to one another when I get close enough to one, without my conscious control," said Aaron. "It might be useful to figure out how far that is, and whether the distance varies significantly. We should also keep track of how long it takes for me to seal each rift, and whether the mark seems to be getting weaker the more I use it."

Varric and Cassandra exchanged looks of alarm.

"You're saying it might be getting weaker?!" Cassandra hissed. "Is it going away?!"

Aaron shook his head. "I don't know. We should try to figure out whether it is, though. The mark doesn't seem to come from me or my magic, so its power to seal rifts may well be drawn from a finite supply. If that's the case, we need to figure out a way to replenish its energy, or keep it in reserve for the Breach. Varric, it would be helpful if you used your journal to record the data we gather."

"You've put some thought into this," Varric said appreciatively.

"Perhaps not enough," Cassandra said sharply. "Suppose the mark is more like... A muscle? If you do not use it, it might atrophy. You should try strengthening your mark on the smaller rifts, so that you can destroy the Breach next time."

"Or it could be something else entirely," Aaron said equably. "There's no way to know until we test it."

"Be careful about making assumptions," said Varric. "That thing's connected to the Fade somehow. Maybe it works however you think it will work."

Aaron did a double-take. That... would entirely obviate the point of experimentation, if it were true. The experimental method could not separate the bias from the reality if the reality was created by the bias, as it was in the Fade.

"Antek nal segerra," Aaron swore venomously. "I should have considered that. I'm the mage, here, and you are the dwarf. How in the world did you catch that?"

Varric chuckled. "Believe it or not, I've actually seen the Fade before. Probably one of the only dwarves who ever has. I've been ass-deep in this kind of weirdness since before you were born."

Varric's words were oddly reassuring. Aaron wanted to believe there was someone here who knew what they were doing, because he certainly didn't.

"Enough nattering. Let's go seal the rift." Cassandra said, straightening from her half-crouch and cautiously moving out into the relative openness of the stream bank.

Aaron and Varric exchanged a nod and followed after her.

It was about fifty feet from the rift before Aaron's mark sparked to life, crackling with energy that was intense yet not quite painful. The rift convulsed in midair, but surprisingly, it did not yield any demons.

Aaron felt a chill run down his spine.

"Something is wrong," Aaron said.

"Can you use the mark?" Cassandra asked.

Aaron held up his hand, willing the Fade rift to close. The resonance, for lack of a better word, seemed to take hold, and in an instant, a connection was established. Sparking yellow arcs of energy bridged the mark and the rift, and with a keening sound, the rift destabilized and changed shape, the crystals shattering and giving way to an eerie, opaque veil of green light. For a long moment, nothing more happened.

Then, off in the distance, Aaron heard a high scream. He twisted around to try to pinpoint the source of the noise.

"Do you hear that?" Varric asked, scanning down Bianca's sights.

"Probably human. Female." Aaron said, suddenly rooted with indecision. Did they stay here to try to seal the rift, or try to rescue the female?

As soon as his mind formulated the choice, he started moving towards the source of the scream. Cassandra's words from earlier echoed in his mind. It was different when someone was in danger right before you, and you had the capacity to stop it.

Aaron, Varric, and Cassandra ran through the shallow stream, the freezing meltwater splashing up around them. On the opposite bank and past a bend was a trail leading into the woods, which had recently seen a major disturbance. Dirt was scraped away and branches had been broken over a very broad swath.

Just a few dozen feet away, the trail led to a low, one-room cabin with an attached smokehouse, nestled amongst a tall grove of evergreens. Wisps of pale smoke curled from the stone chimney, and from the tiny windows Aaron could see firelight. Everything seemed rather cheery and normal, actually.

As they approached, sounds of laughter could be heard inside. The front door of the dwelling opened wide, and a smiling, thin, bearded human stood in the doorway. He looked Fereldan, wearing heavy furs and tools in the style of a hunter. He had an unstrung bow strapped to his back.

"Ho, there, travelers!" the hunter called out, holding up a hand in greeting.

Aaron was so surprised by this that he momentarily forgot why they were there. He cleared his throat.

"Did you hear someone... scream just now?" Aaron asked awkwardly.

The man grinned. "Oh, you heard that? You're too kind to rush over. Yes, that was my wife. She knocked the roast off the table!"

At the woodsman's booming laugh, everyone relaxed.

"We thought something might have come through that Fade rift," Cassandra said, chuckling as if the very thought was preposterous in hindsight.

"Why don't you come on in, friends?" the hunter said warmly. "My wife's roast is still the best, even after it's been on the floor!"

"I think I'll take you up on that. I'm starving," Varric said. "Got any ale, by chance?"

"Of course!" said the hunter, turning to address someone in the house. "Gwen, dear, we have three more dinner guests!"

"Thank the Maker. I could eat a horse," Cassandra muttered.

Aaron felt a sudden pang of hunger, too. That was somewhat odd. Darkspawn were sustained by the magic of the Blight, and ever since he had undergone his final molt and emerged as a fully-grown hurlock, he didn't need to eat at all, nor particularly feel hunger. That hadn't changed, even after the Awakening made him less like a darkspawn and more like a Grey Warden. Still, it wasn't like eating would harm him in any way. And these humans were being so friendly, wouldn't it be rude to refuse them? It would be an insult to Gwen's cooking, and that was unacceptable.

"Come, let's eat," Aaron said eagerly.

As the three of them walked up to the cabin, Aaron caught a familiar scent on the air.

Someone was cooking human flesh.

Oh, good, Aaron thought as a pleasant fog descended over his mind. It will be just like when I was small.

Aaron stepped past the threshold and went around Cassandra, who was seemingly frozen in place for some reason, and was a little surprised at what he found inside the cabin.

A skinny, red-haired human woman was busily tending a large fire, over which the parts of a small human slowly turned on a spit. The place was certainly warm, cozy, and full of delicious aromas—but it was more than a little cramped. Most of the furniture had been crammed over to the left side of the house. Apparently, they weren't the only guests this couple had for the evening.

Towering above the long wooden table which held an entire half-eaten roasted mabari, there was a vast expanse of grayish-pink flesh that dominated half the cabin. At first, Aaron thought the other guest was a broodmother—how nostalgic!—but it was not. The Guest had a rather odd face, or a rather odd lack of a face, instead possessing a huge five-parted mouth that opened like the petals of a flower. Instead of sitting at one of the little wooden chairs, which were obviously far too small, the Guest's bloated stomach was perched on an asymmetrical tangle of human-looking arms and legs that seemed to have too many joints. A larger pair of arms with three elbows too many came out near the head, but the Guest didn't really have shoulders, as such. Aaron wondered how someone as big as the Guest had even gotten into the cabin in the first place.

He—or was it a she?—spread their arms wide in greeting, the curtains of fat nearly brushing the table.

"I... am Gluttony," they said with a voice like a great, heaving sigh. "Welcome... to my feast."

A/N

In which our heroes just can't seem to catch a break. This chapter was inspired by what I believe to be one of the most terrifying parts of Dragon Age: Origins, the fact that very powerful demons could essentially shut down people's rational minds. As always, reviews are much appreciated! I'd like to hear when exactly you figured out that a hunger demon was influencing their minds.

As a side note, if some of Aaron's internal dialogue about not needing to eat and molting seems a bit strange, that isn't actually the demon's influence scrambling his brain. In canon, darkspawn are literally born as voracious, centipede-like grubs, and the Blight ensures that darkspawn and most ghouls are incapable of starving. Since broodmothers are the canonical exception to this rule and need to eat in order to produce more darkspawn, my own headcanon is that darkspawn hatchlings need to eat to attain their adult size, and they eat the same thing broodmothers do, namely people, ghouls, and other darkspawn.