A/N: All right, as promised, the second half of the back-to-back update. I did some shifting around and cutting to fit a Solas section in here. It's a bit short but I wanted to make sure he's still represented. He'll be back for an actiony chapter of his own in Friday's post, as you'll see in the chapter preview. Important character detail comes up this chapter briefly...Remember what Cassandra says her special talent is? She can set fire to the Lyrium in a mage's veins...or I assume, a Templar too. Anyway, I used that talent of hers off screen so keep that in mind.

Thank you as always to my readers and reviewers! Now I have to go make nectarine jam and whatnot. Enjoy the chapter!

Thirty-Eight

Stabilizing the Anchor

"Abelas?" Ellana asked, blinking.

"Abelas?" Arina asked, the name gruff on her lips. "What are you doing here?"

Ellana heard the slow thump of Abelas' tread as he stepped out of the closet, the orb of veilfire floating over his head moving with him. He glanced around the room until his eyes settled on Ellana and his lips twisted in a frown. "I see you brought her. How overjoyed you must be to have lured her here."

"Fenedhis," Morrigan snarled. The elven curse was startling coming out of a human's mouth and the dangerous anger she heard in it immediately sent Ellana's heart racing, banishing all traces of her fatigue.

"What's going on here?" Dorian asked, moving to stand protectively in front of Iron Bull and Ellana.

"Whatever it is, let's make it quick," Sera said, nocking an arrow and drawing her bowstring back as she aimed at Abelas. "Where d'you want it?"

Abelas glared at Sera a moment before tucking his hands behind his back in a posture that reminded Ellana of Solas, instantly tightening something in her chest with pain. The sentinel raised his chin and turned his head, looking over Morrigan and the Elvhen with her who served him—or had. "What has she told you of my decision to leave?" he asked.

"Harellan," Arina snarled. "There is nothing else we need to know."

"Your bare face speaks for itself," Zaron added. "We lost Darae outside. You might've saved her—but you were not there." He spat on the ground, lips curling with derision.

So Darae had died of her wounds. Ellana sighed at the loss, her left hand opening and closing, reminding her of how little time she had left. "Please—there's no need for us to fight amongst ourselves. And there's no time for it."

"She's right," Dorian said. "So, if you'd just step aside, Abelan—"

"Abelas," the sentinel corrected him without even glancing at him. "And this will only take a moment. You will not regret it." Drawing in a breath, Abelas squared his shoulders, staring down Morrigan with narrowed eyes. "Tell Ellana the truth. You cannot deceive her any longer."

Morrigan edged closer, her face a mask of rage. "Traitor," she spat. "You would let her suffer and die over trivial details that—"

"She should be the one to judge whether they are trivial concerns," Abelas interrupted her, cold and somber. "This trap is beneath you, Mythal."

Morrigan reeled back as if he'd slapped her, bumping into Zaron and Arina, who both scrambled to catch her. Seeing their reactions, Ellana squirmed in Iron Bull's arms and called out, "Abelas, what trap? What does she plan?"

Abelas pivoted slightly to meet her stare. "The outstretched hand of help, of the offer one cannot refuse. But there is always the idle hand that takes payment and exacts punishment." He glared down his nose as he switched his attention again to Morrigan-Mythal. "I am willing to overlook many wrongs in the service of the People—of you, Mythal—but you go too far now. Tell her the full truth of it or I shall."

"What full truth is that?" Morrigan demanded, snarling. "That the Anchor will kill her? That Mythal wishes to claim it to oppose Fen'Harel holding absolute power?" Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Or perhaps that you are a liar and traitor, a barefaced deceiver who would say anything to turn her back to Fen'Harel?"

Abelas' stoic expression warped, features drawing with disgust in the orangey light through the nearby bedroom windows. "I have no love for Fen'Harel, save that he would not deceive one this way."

Ellana was about to interrupt them, to shout at them in the vain hope one of them would start making sense—but Dorian beat her to it. "Out with it already, Morrigan. We all guessed you were about as trustworthy as a Carta smuggler, but this is getting ridiculous. We don't have time for this dithering."

"Can she stabilize my mark or not?" Ellana asked Abelas, pointedly. The Anchor had begun to gleam again, the slow burn rising.

"She can," Abelas told her, gruffly. "But she demands a hidden price that—"

Morrigan interrupted him with a hissing sound, reminiscent of a cat and motioned with both hands, the palms glowing light blue with magic. Arina and Zaron lunged ahead jerkily, in a way that reminded Ellana of the shambling corpses she'd seen at Crestwood and the Fallow Mire—as if the two sentinels were puppets whose strings had been pulled to animate them. They wore expressions of both pain and surprise, eyes wide while their lips formed ugly grimaces.

Arina darted for Abelas, slashing with both daggers, but he tossed up a barrier, deflecting the blows. Zaron cast dispel, sending a low-pitched hum resonating through the air. Abelas' barrier shimmered, weakening, but he seemed to shrug it off, strengthening the protective blue bubble around himself with a flourish of both hands. Morrigan shouted at him as she hurled ice chunks at him, but they shattered against his barrier.

"Kaffas," Dorian cursed, tossing up barriers over their own group and pushing against Iron Bull and Rainier, who were closest to him.

"Frigging elfy-elves," Sera snarled from behind Rainier. "Torch `em, Door. Stab `em, Beardy!"

Ellana struggled in Iron Bull's hold until he released her legs, letting her stand upright. "All of you," she shouted at the top of her lungs. "Stop this!"

With a crackle of storm magic, Dorian cast static cages in a burst of purple flickering light, enveloping Arina, Zaron, and Morrigan in the spell's paralyzing grip. The witch and her sentinels twitched inside the cage, held motionless as the purple lightning bubble over them flashed. "Ha!" Dorian guffawed. "Much better."

"Abelas," Ellana called to him, cradling her now glowing left hand in her unmarked right palm gingerly. "Please, just tell me." Dread was like ice in her stomach, hard and bitingly cold. It swelled outward, tightening her chest and throat as she stared at the sentinel—or was it former sentinel now?

Abelas dipped his chin to her in acknowledgement. "Mythal intends to place you under her compulsion when she stabilizes the Anchor. In doing so, she will be able to coerce you into agreeing to allow her to use your child—or yourself—as a vessel."

"Fenedhis," she cursed, the cold inside her flashing over to fire, making her shake as she glared with as much venom as she could muster at Morrigan. "I knew I couldn't trust you but this…" She snarled, shaking her head. "Is what he says true?"

The static cage dissipated, flickering as it went out with a crackle. Morrigan slumped as it released its hold. Arina, perched precariously in mid-lunge when the spell had gripped her, now toppled over with a thump. Zaron was luckier as he merely settled into a battle ready stance, a frown that was both baffled and angry contorting his features. For a few heartbeats there was nothing but silence as the assembled groups glowered between one another.

Then, abruptly, Morrigan's jaw clenched and she shook her head violently, groaning in a voice that sounded strained as if with pain. Gripping her head at the temples, she ground out, "`Tis true, Lady Lavellan." Her teeth flashed as she winced. "Mythal intended to write a compulsion into your spirit. None would know of it. You would not be aware of it, but you would find Mythal…" She broke off, groaning again, still holding her head. "…my advice impossible to refute."

"Why would you want my baby?" Ellana demanded, wrapping her right arm protectively over her belly.

Still wearing a tight grimace, Morrigan released her grip on her head. Her hands shook as she lowered them to her side. "Mythal and I are not the most harmonious union."

"Really?" Dorian quipped sarcastically. "I'd never have suspected."

"No harm would've come to your child," Morrigan insisted, a note of pleading entering her words. "No harm will come to your child should you choose to—"

"Never," Ellana snarled, recoiling as if Morrigan had moved to attack her. She bumped into Rainier who laid a gentle, reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Morrigan huffed, jaw clenching. "Then it seems we are at an impasse, are we not?" She motioned to Ellana. "You require services only Mythal can grant you, but are unwilling to—"

"You'd let her die?" Dorian asked, snarling with sudden vehemence.

Morrigan shook her head, brow furrowed as she bit her lips, as struggling with her own words. "I would not…"

Iron Bull let out a grunting growl of displeasure. "She's bluffing. The goddess thing in her, I mean. Damn demon possessing crap."

"Indeed," Abelas spoke up again, sniffing as he elevated his chin slightly, staring down the length of his nose at Morrigan. "I do not believe Mythal foolish enough to refuse you. Doing so would destroy any chance of reclaiming the Anchor. In addition, Fen'Harel would stop at nothing to have his vengeance once he learned of it. And, of course, without the Anchor or any living reason to preserve this world, the Dread Wolf will tear down the Veil and all but destroy everything to complete his original plan."

Morrigan glared at him, her shoulders heaving with each breath though she stayed silent. The remaining sentinels behind her were impassive and inscrutable, though Ellana caught the way their gazes darted from Abelas to Morrigan and then back to her and her companions. Ellana's left hand made a faint hissing sound, burning and tingling as it gradually gained strength.

Gritting her teeth, she edged forward a step. "You've been outplayed, Morrigan—or Mythal, or whoever you are now."

"I am both," Morrigan replied blankly. Her expression eased somewhat as she sighed and added, "Unfortunately." Squaring her shoulders, she pivoted to face Ellana directly. "I will help you, but I do ask that you allow your child to consider consenting to become Mythal's vessel someday." She paused, smirking slightly. "If it is a girl, of course."

Even as she frowned, heart pounding and stomach still tight with dread at how close she'd come to unwittingly losing her free will to Mythal, Ellana forced herself to nod. "If my baby wanted to willingly become Mythal's vessel—why would I try to stop it?"

"Then `tis agreed," Morrigan said, her closed-lipped smirk widening.

"So you only want the kid if it's a girl?" Iron Bull asked. At Morrigan's sidelong glance at him, neither confirming nor denying his comment, Iron Bull elbowed Ellana, bumping against her shoulder because of his height. "See? You were never in danger. Kid's gonna be a boy."

"Yeah," Rainier muttered behind Ellana. "Nothing to worry about—except losing her free will, of course."

Dorian snorted. "Yes, but when has the old girl ever used that pesky thing?"

Scowling, Ellana shifted her weight from one leg to the other, trying to ignore the ache in her lower back as she considered the danger ahead. Could she actually trust Abelas and Morrigan not to put her under some kind of compulsion even after revealing it? Or was this just a ploy to trick her? Was Abelas truly on her side?

Looking to him, Ellana asked, "Will you know if she's trying to put a compulsion on me?"

He nodded. "Any mage familiar with the magic in question will recognize it."

"What magic is it?" Dorian asked immediately, stepping forward and bristling with distrust as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Spirit-based," Abelas answered. "But with an element of blood magic." He eyed Morrigan as she glared at him, his manner bordering on amusement now. "How did you plan to do it, hahren?" he asked her, arching an eyebrow. "Cut yourself during the ritual and hope her companions never noticed?"

Morrigan scoffed, gesturing jerkily past Abelas and toward the closet. "We have no time for idle questions." She looked to Ellana, haughty as she tossed her head, trying to knock her black hair from her face. "You have only two options, Lady Lavellan. You take my offer, such as it is currently—and without any compulsion as we agreed—or you return to Fen'Harel and let him take your arm."

Breathing deep to steady herself, Ellana clenched her left hand, trying to ignore the mounting pain in her palm. "It's not as though I have much of a choice."

"Then let us get on with it," Morrigan said and, with a firm and authoritative stride, marched past Abelas and into the closet. The sentinels trailed after her, obedient but with detached, aloof looks that Ellana thought thinly masked their confusion. Abelas glanced to her once and then also turned to follow after Morrigan.

With a long breath out, Ellana started to take a step forward when she felt the large, warm weight of Iron Bull's hand on her shoulder. "You really going to do this, Boss?"

Casting him a melancholy smile over her shoulder, she shrugged as she raised her left hand for him to see the glow. "If this is the only way I can save my hand—my arm." She frowned, her voice catching before she could quite swallow down the lump in her throat. "I write with the marked hand, you know."

"You have the shoddiest luck, Lana," Sera observed with a tight giggle.

Despite the grimness tightening her chest, Ellana chuckled. "Truer words have never been spoken." Stepping forward, still clutching her left hand in her right one, she saw into the walk-in closet. Luxurious dresses, silken pantaloons, pants, breeches, and vests hung along the walls. Atop the shelves were hat boxes and masks had been mounted at the edges of the eluvian, as if for easy reach. The noble who owned this home had apparently fancied the eluvian as an actual mirror. Now it gleamed cerulean blue as the centerpiece of the enormous, opulent closet.

Abelas lingered outside the mirror, twisted at the waist to watch her. "She has overwritten it to take us directly to the Fade," he told her in a surprisingly gentle voice. "Do not be alarmed when you step through."

"How could I be alarmed when I've spent more time physically there than anyone has since Solas put up the Veil?" she asked, meaning to tease though her tone was a little too strained. "Walking in the Fade is almost routine now."

Abelas' lips curled in a small smile. "So it is." He nodded. "I will see you on the other side, lethallan." Turning, he passed through the mirror with a stately grace that made Ellana's stomach ripple with envy.

Oh, to be lean and dexterous again, she thought longingly as she waddled her way through the mirror.

"We'd just reached the ground level when a band of Templars ambushed us out of nowhere," Var explained hurriedly, eyes wide and lips trembling with his nervousness. Though he could no longer cast as his connection to the Fade had been sundered enough to cut off magic, the Elvhen man remained sensitive to it like most of the People. He likely sensed the looming threat of Solas' magic, like the shadow of a dragon flying overhead that could swoop down at any moment and swallow him whole.

"When they cut down the first of our escort, Divine Victoria took advantage of the chaos. I don't know exactly what she did, but it had to have been her—she lit two of the Dalish mages on fire somehow. One second they were fine, the next they were screaming and their skin started smoking and the stench…" Var grimaced, shaking his head at the memory. "We broke and ran for reinforcements. We aimed to recapture her, but by the time we reached her in the stables she'd joined up with the Inquisition leaders. They already had the horses bridled and—"

"Was Ellana there?" Solas interrupted, unable to hold himself back any longer.

Var blinked, his brows arching and then forming a tight line over his nose. "No. Why would Lady Lavellan be involved?"

Biting back the curse on his tongue, Solas ignored Var's question. "Join Mathrel inside," he ordered the rogue, motioning at the palace. He'd found Var in the courtyard, tending to elves wounded in the skirmish with the Templars and Inquisition. "We must ensure the palace does not burn."

"Yes," Var said, but the look he shot Solas was full of concern and he hesitated. "Is Lady Lavellan well?"

"She is missing," Solas hedged, restraining his frown at how strained the words sounded.

Var nodded somberly. "I will alert my men to keep a lookout for any sign of her."

"Thank you," Solas told him and then, brusquely, turned and Fade-stepped across the courtyard, heading for the gate.

Behind him, Var called out, "What are we to do about the Divine and the Inquisition?"

He paused, glancing quickly over his shoulder to answer, "I will attend to it."

She knew I would seek her at the eluvians and in the palace, Solas thought as he began jogging forward on the path toward the stables. So she'd done the opposite of what he'd expected—which shouldn't have surprised him at all. She was always reckless, throwing herself into danger despite how vital she was to everyone and everything. As the Herald and as Inquisitor she'd walked into the trap at Redcliffe, faced off with Corypheus at Haven and then again in the valley of the Temple of Sacred Ashes in the final fight. After she'd left the Inquisition to join him in fighting for the People she'd been determined to help him defeat the Forgotten Ones, despite his protests, and she'd nearly died enacting Mythal's plan to retake the Dales. Everywhere she went, trouble found its way to her and Ellana thrust herself headfirst into it. Mahanon had told Solas that Ellana was headstrong and stubborn, to the point of foolishness, but he hadn't needed her brother to tell him that. He'd known her more than long enough to have seen it for himself.

He found the stables in disarray, stalls had been broken into and horses set loose to now mill around the space, nibbling at hay in the troughs. There was a gate that Cassandra and the others must've unlatched to lead their mounts outside, but it'd swung shut and latched since then, leaving the animals trapped. Their eyes rolled with alarm and their ears twitched as the smell of smoke from the palace and burning outbuildings rolled in through the windows and the doors. Instinct would propel them to run, but they had nowhere to go and couldn't yet see fire. It'd be only a matter of time before the wind would bring burning embers to the stable's roof and set it aflame.

Finding the hart Solas had ridden into the winter palace on, he quickly retrieved a bridle for the beast. He calmed it by stroking its cheek and neck, then slid the bridle onto it and worked the reins around its neck—a task made more difficult by the hart's enormous antlers. Solas didn't bother with a saddle, he could already barely stand the time it took to put the bridle on. There was an impatient, anxious beat inside him that made his heart cold with fear at the certainty that every second counted. Ellana was in danger wherever she was, of that he had no doubt.

He led the hart through the other horses, moving slowly and with caution to avoid spooking any of them, and opened the gate. After leading the hart through, he took the time to secure the gate in the open position, freezing it with a quick spell, to let the other animals escape. Swinging himself onto the beast's back, Solas spurred it ahead with a click of his tongue and a nudge from his heels. With one of its usual high-pitched calls, the hart charged forward through the courtyard and out through the palace gates.

The cool magic of the eluvian washed over Ellana, but as she stepped out into the diffuse yellowish light of the Fade, it seemed to settle into her left hand and turned blazingly hot. She stumbled forward, feeling the invisible tug in her palm, the magic of the Anchor crackling and glowing as it spread up her forearm to her elbow. Abelas caught her by the shoulders and then gripped her left palm along the Anchor's seam and squeezed with thumb and forefinger.

Pain sizzled through her as he drew some of the magic out. Ellana whimpered, her knees going weak and her skin flushing hot and then cold as she started sweating uncontrollably. The Anchor flared and made its popping-crackle as energy from it dissipated into the Fade around them, becoming the green mist of ether. When Abelas released her palm Ellana was left trembling and panting from the pain, but it'd eased enough to be manageable again.

"Ellana," Dorian called from behind her, splashing through the oily puddles in front of the eluvian to be at her side. He shouldered Abelas away with a glare, taking the sentinel's place. "Are you all right, love? Did he hurt you?"

"No," she murmured, still struggling to catch her breath. Her lungs felt cramped, squished by both emotion and baby.

"I merely performed a slight discharge of its accumulated magic," Abelas told Dorian blankly. "To counteract the effects of passing through the eluvian."

"I see," Dorian said, still distrustful as he checked over Ellana's hand for himself.

"I'm fine, Dorian," Ellana insisted, finding the strength to steady her knees and step away. She'd sunk into the tawny mud underfoot and had to struggle a bit to free herself, trudging around Dorian and Abelas to see Morrigan and the other sentinels flanking her as they waited together a few meters away. Iron Bull, Rainier, and Sera stepped through behind her, making the mirror thrum with magic. Ellana flexed her hand, feeling each person's passage through the mirror as a pulse in her left palm.

They'd entered a small clearing surrounded by green-gray Fade stone, wreathed in ether. There was no sign of demons, but Ellana could see a faint, transparent wisp lingering on the other side of the clearing. Beside the eluvian there were a few masks and dresses, hanging suspended in the air as if from invisible hooks. The Fade here was mirroring the walk-in closet in the waking world through the mirror. Too bad it hadn't recreated the lush carpeting and flatter terrain.

Iron Bull grunted with revulsion. "I hate this place."

"Can we go back?" Sera asked, shuffling her feet and skirting the oily puddles. Jerking awkwardly, she tried to walk without letting any of the green Fade ether brush against her only to yelp when she realized it was on her opposite side as well. "Shite. Damn. Sod it all."

Rainier let out a longsuffering sigh but otherwise made no complaint as he took the lead, stopping to stand beside Dorian. They followed Ellana as she made her way forward, walking just a step behind Abelas as he took a position standing near Mythal but far enough away that he was separated from the sentinels flanking her—a visual representation that he was no longer with them. Mythal and Abelas formed a semi half-circle, and Ellana couldn't help but think of herself as a caged bird.

"Let us begin," Morrigan said, her voice heavy and somber. Motioning at Ellana, she said, "Step closer to me. Take my hands."

Swallowing the anxious burning in her throat—as much emotion as heartburn—Ellana obeyed. Morrigan's hands were warm, slightly slimy with perspiration. Her grip was firm and Ellana felt magic tingling though she saw no glow from the witch's hands. The Anchor throbbed with heat.

Staring into her eyes, Morrigan said, "I will cast a sleep spell, now. You will feel yourself go under, but `tis nothing to fear. Your companions can hold you upright, if you wish."

"Is it possible to sleep here?" Rainier asked, frowning. "Is it possible to dream?"

Morrigan didn't take her eyes from Ellana as she ignored the questions. Her lips moved, constructing the spell, and Rainier and Dorian both stepped forward to grasp her by the shoulders. Ellana tensed, heart pounding and body bathed in sweat, fearful thoughts flitting through her mind as she worried this might not succeed, or that Abelas and Mythal would still betray her somehow…

And then, as she saw the slight glow of Morrigan's hands, her head felt heavy and a wave of dizziness cascaded over her. Her eyelids fluttered and she let out several long, uneven breaths as her body struggled to find balance between the anxiety that kept her heart racing and the unnatural demands of the sleep spell for calm. The magic won and suddenly she was weightless and falling, her mind empty and tranquil.

After a few moments she found herself standing beside Abelas, staring at the scene outside of her body. Her companions all turned their heads, noticing her with varied expressions of dismay. Dull confusion laced through Ellana, frowning as she tried to remember what had been happening, why she was somehow seeing herself held up by Dorian and Rainier while Morrigan held her limp hands. She frowned and tried to speak, "What's going on?"

Sera yelped and thrust a finger at where Ellana stood beside Abelas. "What's that?"

"Ellana's dream self, you simpleton," Dorian grumbled.

As Ellana gawped, speechless and still confused, Morrigan released the limp, lifeless Ellana's hands and walked toward her. "Remain calm," she crooned as she extended one blue-glowing hand toward her. "You are in the dreaming. This will only take a moment."

Ellana shook her head, backpedaling a step from Morrigan. Gazing down at her own body, she let out a little cry of alarm and felt along her flat navel, seeing no sign of her sizeable belly. Vaguely, she recalled the dream she'd shared with Mahanon, when she'd been able to reshape her appearance. Her lurching heart eased for the moment—until Morrigan's hand gripped her left wrist.

The witch's touch was scalding, like living tongues of flame. She cried out, trying to flee, but she felt herself bump into an invisible barrier. Blinking and staring as she continued to struggle, she saw glimmering green walls of iridescent ether had encircled her, thickening until she could barely see her companions through it. Though she flailed, kicking and jerking on her hand, she couldn't free herself from Morrigan's clutches and couldn't escape the confines of the ether-bubble.

"Let go," she shouted, only to realize her voice sounded muffled and faint, as if she'd mumbled them against her pillow at night. Still, with a snarl, she tried again. "You're hurting me!"

"Relax," Morrigan called to her. "You will not be harmed."

"Maker's balls," Rainier yelled. "What are you doing to her?"

"Her spirit interprets this as an attack," Abelas explained, calm and deadpan. "But she is safe."

"How can the witch even hold onto her?" Iron Bull stammered.

"Magic," Dorian put in, sounding irritable. "Obviously."

The burning pain continued, arcing through Ellana's left hand and forearm. Green light glowed, brilliant and blinding, growing until it was white and pure, glimmering. With her eyes stinging from both the pain and the brightness, Ellana whimpered, going motionless as she gave in to helplessness.

Morrigan's hand on her wrist twisted then, giving a slight jerk. The pain eased into a sharp stinging, tugging on the bones in her hand and forearm. As the light faded slightly, Ellana found she could see again. Blinking, she found herself staring at a small oval shape hovering in the air beside her left hand. Tendrils of green energy coiled outward from it, chaotic and flicking like lightning to her forearm.

The Anchor.

Morrigan's fingers tapped against her skin, no longer painfully burning, just prickling and stinging with intense magic. The small ministrations of her fingers on Ellana's skin seemed to carry over to the Anchor where it glowed alongside her hand. The green lightning licking up Ellana's forearm flashed, changing. Rather than the randomized chaos she'd grown accustomed to seeing it began to pulsate and form straight lines.

Ellana felt the magic crawling up her arm, inside her bones. The pain made her grind her teeth, but it dissipated as the seconds passed. She saw a green glow under her own skin, illuminating the shape of her arm bones. It stopped at her elbow. The glow rose and fell in time with her heartbeat.

"As was typical of Fen'Harel, the Anchor was never a physical tool," Morrigan said, her voice tinny and distant in Ellana's ears. "`Tis bound to your spirit. As such, removing it was virtually impossible without first untangling it from your spirit." She paused a second and then added in a sharper tone, "I cannot stop the pain that will come from using it or from exposure to magic, but I can stabilize it, at least for a time. It would be best in the long term if you were to yield it to myself. Let me take the Anchor. Please."

As attractive as the idea of no longer feeling the burning, aching pain in her hand and arm was, Ellana clenched her jaw and steeled herself against the possibility. "No. Not yet."

Morrigan's sigh vibrated through her and into Ellana's arm, sending pins and needles into her bones via the Anchor. "Very well."

The witch's hand tightened on Ellana's wrist and the burning pain inside her bones intensified until a strained scream forced its way past her lips. Yet, again, Ellana realized the sound was faint and distorted, warped and limited by her current spirit-self. The light grew blinding again, filling every sense until there was nothing but the whiteout and the pain in her arm.

Then, suddenly, Morrigan released her. Ellana slumped, gasping, the Fade spinning all around her as the ache in her hand and arm dissipated to a tolerable level again. The light receded into darkness and her heart lurched in her chest, worried she'd gone blind until she became aware of hands under her shoulders, holding her up. She was awake, then, and back in her body. Opening her eyes and gasping, she struggled to get her feet underneath her, but her knees shook.

"Whoa, take it easy there," Rainier cautioned, speaking into her right ear.

Dorian, on her left, grunted as he braced her body against his own with one hip. "Can you stand?"

"I think so," she said as she willed her legs to stop wobbling. Breathing hard and as deep as she could with the baby compressing everything inside her, Ellana gradually stood on her own. Morrigan had backed away from her several paces, but Abelas had moved closer, as if ready to stabilize her in the same way as both Dorian and Rainier. Behind the witch, Arina and Zaron eyed Ellana with curious expressions.

"I have stabilized the Anchor," Morrigan said. "It will remain painful, but `tis no longer a danger to your life."

"Thank you," Ellana murmured, shuddering with relief as she gazed at her left palm and saw the greenish light of the seam glittering slightly.

"You still you, yeah?" Sera asked, tight with tension.

"Yeah," Ellana answered, groggy and thick. "As far as I can tell."

"Great," Iron Bull said. "Then we can get the fuck out of here."

"Yeah," Sera added, her brows beetling over her nose. "Before Corify-butts or something like him shows up. `Cuz you know something will. Always does."

"But where will we go?" Rainier asked, gingerly releasing his hold on Ellana and watching warily as she held her own weight.

"You all will go wherever you like," Morrigan interjected, her voice ringing with authority. She motioned at the eluvian, her hand wafting through Fade ether. "I can manipulate the eluvian to send you to a variety of spots through Thedas." Pausing then, her lips pinched into a hard line. "But you will not be accompanying Ellana and I."

Now Ellana glared at the witch. "You think I'm going anywhere with you after I learned that you were going to put me under some kind of blood magic compulsion and try to make my baby your latest vessel?" She let out a brittle, angry laugh at Morrigan's unhappy frown. "How stupid do you think I am?"

"`Tis true I was…" She fidgeted with her hands, tugging at the silken edges of her sleeves. "…less than honest, earlier. But you must see reason, Lady Lavellan. We must band together to—"

"I'm done being used by both of you," Ellana snapped, hands clenching into fists. "I've had enough of war, of worrying, of not trusting those around me." Sucking in a breath and finding it thick with Fade ether, she tried to calm the emotions rolling in her stomach. "I'm tired of being lied to." Shoulders sagging, she envisioned Solas' face in her mind and something ached in her chest, both longing and loss.

"Well," Dorian said, frowning. "There's precisely zero chance of you escaping that by returning to that wolf-god lover of yours."

Ellana glared at him. "You're not helping, Dorian."

He winced. "Sorry. I couldn't resist."

Abelas cleared his throat then, drawing their attention. "If I may be permitted to accompany you, lethallan, I will be able to override the eluvian and you will have no need to allow Mythal to know where you will go." He nodded with respect to Morrigan, though his eyes narrowed. "And you would be able to leave to any location you would like without any of us knowing where you'd gone as well."

Morrigan shook her head in disapproval, lips drawing back in a small snarl. "This is foolish. Lady Lavellan, your time is near. You cannot be unprotected and outside of the restored Fade when your child comes. You will be weak and vulnerable."

"You think I don't know that?" Ellana spat, shaking with quiet fury. She dismissed Morrigan's comment about being within the Fade to give birth. Countless mothers had given birth in the sundered world and although some of them did die—and Ellana could be one of them—most survived to raise their babies.

Scoffing derisively, Morrigan gestured at her companions. "You truly want to find yourself away from your people, your family, when your time comes? You'd be more comfortable with this lot who know nothing of motherhood?"

Head spinning, Ellana closed her eyes and scrubbed at her face, finding it slimy with sweat. In truth she knew she wanted to be with her mother, with her Keeper, and with her sister-in-law when it came time for her to bring her child into this world. But her clan wouldn't be able to keep her presence with them a secret from Solas.

Solas…If only he could be there with her, instead of Fen'Harel.

"You should be in the Emerald Graves," Morrigan pressed. "With the People. Safe."

"Yes," Ellana snarled bitterly. "Right where both you and Fen'Harel can find me and use me—or just lie to me and see if I believe it. Again."

"Think what you will of me," Morrigan grumbled with a deep frown. "But what I say now is out of concern for you and your child, not the Anchor."

"Ah, yes," Dorian interjected with a feigned, sugary smile. "I'll believe that the same day I believe Darkspawn are just looking for hugs."

Morrigan shot him a brief glower and then focused again on Ellana with greater intensity. "Please, even returning to Fen'Harel would be better than striking out on your own."

"I've heard enough, Morrigan," Ellana said, shaking her head sharply and thrusting one finger in the direction of the eluvian. "Leave. I'm not going with you and I'm not returning to Fen'Harel."

"Not now and not ever," Dorian added with a gesture as flourish.

Ellana frowned at him. "Don't put words in my mouth."

Dorian laid a hand on his chest with a mock-scandalized look on his face. "What? Me? No, never! I simply added what you forgot to say, that's all, darling."

"I will leave," Morrigan said, somber and serious as she narrowed her golden eyes at Ellana. "But do know that should you need me, you will be able to find me in the Fade. You have only to dream." Her expression softened, eyebrows and lips curling downward at the edges of her face. "I wish you and your child well, Lady Lavellan."

With a motion of one hand over her shoulder, Morrigan led the sentinels to the eluvian and raised one hand to it, sending a burst of blue energy into it. The glass shimmered, changing color slightly and rippling like water disturbed by a stone thrown into its depths. Ellana watched the witch and her sentinels step through, then the mirror went dark.

"Shite," Sera shouted, immediately panicking at the darkened mirror. Scrambling toward it through the muck and puddles, heedless of the ether in her panic, Sera slapped a palm on the mirror and then recoiled. "Ugh! Work, thing! Andraste's ass, what's a matter with it?"

"Back away, Sera," Dorian shouted to her. "And Maker's breath, don't break it." He jerked a thumb at his own chest and then, with a frown of distrust, at Abelas. "Let the mages handle it." Sniffing as he crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Ellana and Abelas, Dorian asked, "So where are we going? Might I suggest Tevint—"

"C'mon, Dorian, you know better than to seriously suggest that," Iron Bull growled.

Dorian huffed, rolling his eyes flamboyantly. "Oh, all right. Fine. My homeland is a terrible place for elves. But I can't stay away from it forever. My enemies in the Magisterium will be getting complacent without me. Can't have that, you know. And, of course, they'll simply be lost without my example to follow in regards to fashion."

Rainier groaned. "Do you ever tire of hearing yourself talk, Dorian?"

"Of course not," Dorian said with a scoff. Sobering slightly, he fixed Ellana in his brown eyed gaze as he finished teasing his mustache between his thumb and forefinger. "But in all seriousness, Ellana, you do need to make some kind of decision here. I promise I will stay with you until I know you're safe…" He went silent, frowning with a sad look in his eyes. "But I cannot stay with you indefinitely unless we go to Tevinter. I am needed there. Without my balancing influence, I expect the Magisterium will soon devolve into blood magic and ritual sacrifice."

"You mean more than usual," Rainier quipped, arching one furry eyebrow.

Dorian rolled his eyes again. "Yes, yes, very funny. Also somewhat true, sadly." He waved a hand dismissively in the figurative direction of Tevinter. "You know how my countrymen are."

After smirking at Dorian's humor, and admiring the way his eyes glinted at her—no doubt pleased that he'd managed to lighten her mood, if only for a moment—Ellana sighed. "To be honest," she said, struggling to speak around the lump still in her throat. "Morrigan's right. I'd like to be with my clan. But they'd never be able to keep it from Solas, and I…"

She broke off, choking on the words and staring down at the tawny sand and oily puddles of the Fade. Sucking in several wet breaths and fighting the shaking that came over her as she imagined the turmoil her decision would cause her clan, Ellana said, "I'd be putting them in a terrible position. They'd never be able to keep it quiet. Running away is the only way I can disrupt Solas' plans, but…"

"Perhaps it would be best if you did return to him," Rainier said, gruff but quiet with sympathy.

Dorian elbowed the other man and then grimaced with pain, rubbing the afflicted extremity. "Ouch! That's some impressive armor you have there, Thom."

"It's called armor for a reason," Rainier grumbled before speaking to Ellana again, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I don't approve of what Solas has done, but I know that you care for him and I know from first-hand experience you have incredible capacity to forgive."

"Yes," Dorian said snappishly. "But even Ellana has to have a limit on that, especially when the villain we're currently discussing has a penchant for repeated offenses. Solas is as bad at changing his ways as a dragon is about not eating people and livestock. You either kill it or you run from it." He punched one fist into the palm of his other hand. "There's no living with it."

"There is no running from Fen'Harel either," Abelas interjected stiffly. "He will find you in the Fade." Staring at Ellana, he arched an eyebrow. "Are you familiar with herbs used to block one's access to the Fade in sleep?"

"Not really," Ellana answered with a sigh. She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and sleep forever, dreamless and quiet and unthinking. You're just trying to escape your problems, the nagging voice in her head scolded, using her father's voice. The memory of him—and the knowledge that he was dead—hit her all over again and grief clutched at her heart and spilled over into the pain of Solas' betrayal. The tumultuous emotions churned inside her, spilling over into one another, confused and treacherous.

The Fade around them stirred as a little breeze pushed at the ether. A gurgling noise echoed from the green-gray Fade rocks. Iron Bull drew his great axe with a slick clink of metal. "What the fuck was that? Demons?"

"Most likely," Abelas said, deadpan and impassive, as if discussing the weather. "Strong emotion will draw them like moths to flame. We cannot linger here." He strode toward the eluvian, moving with ease through the muck, puddles, and sand underfoot.

Sera edged out of his way, gripping her bow with an arrow nocked and at the ready. "Hurry up and get us out of here, yeah? `Fore I piss myself. Not ashamed of it neither!"

Ellana groaned, aware suddenly of her own seemingly magical bladder, which could never stay comfortable or empty for long. "I second that, Sera, sadly."

"Right, yeah. Fucking demons," the archer complained, turning her head this way and that anxiously.

"But we still don't know where we're going," Rainier protested. "Or what we're doing."

"I do," Iron Bull said. "I need to go back to Halamshiral and check on my men." He still held his great axe out, clutched tightly in both fists and hefted in front of him. "Can you do that?" he asked Abelas.

"Certainly," Abelas replied and, with a pinched expression of concentration, he thrust one hand palm up to the mirror, his hand glowing blue. The eluvian shimmered like water again as it reactivated and Abelas stepped back from it, nodding to Iron Bull. "The mirror will take you to the same one we entered in the noble's house in Halamshiral, Qunari."

"Tal-Vashoth," Iron Bull corrected with a grunt. Turning as he stood silhouetted in front of the mirror, Iron Bull smiled affectionately at Ellana and then at Dorian. "It was good seeing everyone again—but my men need me. Best of luck dealing with Solas."

"Off with you, then," Dorian said with a dismissive motion of one hand, as if shooing away a maid. "I'll just see you again as soon as I hire you and the Chargers to take care of certain miscreants in the Magisterium." He smirked and rubbed a finger over his mustache with a playful gleam in his eye. "Our usual plans, I suspect."

"You got it," Iron Bull said and winked his only eye at Dorian.

"Thank you, Bull," Ellana said, smiling. "For everything. I hope we see each other again."

"Oh, Boss," he said, chuckling. "You know we will. I'd hug you, but I'm a little afraid I'd crush that belly of yours."

"I'm not as fragile as I look," she insisted, managing a broader smile now.

With a last look over their other companions, Iron Bull stepped through the mirror, making it thrum and glow slightly brighter for a moment. Immediately after the eluvian settled again Abelas thrust his hand to it, wearing the same intense expression.

After a few moments he stepped back and faced Ellana. "I am familiar with the herbs used to block dreams. I also have an idea how you may be able to rejoin your clan when it is your time without alerting Fen'Harel, if that remains your wish."

Ellana scowled, cocking her head. "How?"

Abelas smiled. "I would retrieve a select few of your clansmen and bring them to you."

Too tired to fully contemplate his suggestion now, Ellana merely nodded and stared past him, to the glowing mirror. "Where does it lead?"

"Ruins in the Arbor Wilds," he answered. "A day's trek north of the Temple of Mythal."

"And what if that witch has gone there?" Rainier asked.

"She would not," Abelas said. "It is too remote. Mythal has reemerged now for the People as a counter to Fen'Harel's power. She hoped to gain the Anchor from you and to perhaps gain your child as bargaining chips to keep her safe. I believe now she will revert to reminding the Dread Wolf that the Dalish bend to her will. To do that she will touch their minds in dreaming, and she must be close to the bulk of their forces to access them." He paused, a dry smile spreading over his lips. "She is not the powerful Dreamer she once was and cannot rival Fen'Harel in the Fade." The smile faded, warping into a frown. "At least not in her current vessel."

Grinding her teeth together at the reminder of what had almost been, Ellana nodded. "Then let's get out of here."

"To the Arbor Wilds?" Dorian asked.

"Yes," Ellana confirmed and, before he could protest, walked into the mirror.

Next Chapter:

Solas never saw the arrow that shot out of the darkness down a nearby alley, striking the hart through its shoulder, just shy of his knee. The beast stumbled and fell with a shriek, throwing Solas from its back and to the rough cobblestone below. With no chance to brace himself, Solas tumbled, skidding and rolling. His head struck the stone, sending sharp pain through his skull, obliterating everything else.

Blackness took him.