Notes: The final chapter of Book One is Legacy. It's a little AU, because I can't see the Warden-Commander sending only the Hawke sibling on the mission, and it's even stranger for something involving Tainted dwarves and a Warden prison to include non-Warden sibling and no Wardens at all unless you take Anders.

Song is "A Voice in the Dark" by Blind Guardian.


Chapter 29: Fear the Voice in the Dark


Several months later.

Caitlyn reflected on what had happened in her life since the beginning of the year. Quite a lot had changed in that space of time. They had finally obtained the Amell mansion—now the Hawke mansion—and settled in. Carver had become a Grey Warden and had returned to Ferelden to serve. The family had received several letters from him since then. She and Anders had finally had their long-delayed wedding. The flu epidemic had occurred, provoking their first serious dispute since they had gotten back together, and Mal had learned how to read.

Since then, we haven't fought about anything, she thought happily as she browsed the Hightown market. We've disagreed, but nothing has ever escalated into a fight. It was gratifying to have the confidence that perhaps she had finally resolved enough of her emotional troubles that she could have a happy, successful relationship. When all was well between them, he made her very happy, and she knew that she did the same for him. Nothing could ever undo the pain and losses they had suffered, but the closeness and confidence that they once again shared moved those sad, dark memories out of the forefront of their minds and gave them hope for the future again.

Mal was advancing rapidly as a reader. It was not wholly surprising to either of his parents—Caitlyn because she had known for most of his life that he had a gift for language, and Anders because he was incapable of being objective about the child he had been kept from for so long—but it was still a pleasure to observe. He would be quite a scholar someday, Caitlyn guessed, and she was determined to give him new material to read as often as she could. A new book for him was what she was looking to buy today, in fact. He still preferred to spend most of his days at Anders' clinic, but Anders was keeping normal hours now that no public-health crisis was ongoing, so she cheerfully anticipated presenting him with his new book in a few hours.

She finally selected a collection of short stories compiled by a scholar from the University of Orlais, translated into the King's Tongue. Some of the tales were a little mature for a child who was not quite five, but Mal had already experienced more than a small child should have. It was too late to shelter him, Caitlyn thought with a pang of sadness as she purchased the book. But Anders and I can try to protect him from other things in the future, she thought.


That evening, as they were all enjoying family time and Mal was enjoying his new book, a thump sounded on the front door. It was much heavier than a polite knock, and it sounded like something large and heavy slamming against it. Anders and Caitlyn looked up sharply, their faces filling with alarm. Leandra surprisingly kept her cool and moved calmly beside Mal on the divan as his parents rose to their feet and hurried behind Orana toward the door. They picked up their staves from the hallway.

As they neared the door, they heard grunts and mutterings from the other side of the door. There was another heavy thump against either the door or the side of the house. Caitlyn heard the patter of feet and turned around in the hall. Baldwin was following behind her.

"All right, I suppose you can come," she allowed the dog.

Anders looked back and noticed that Ser Pounce-a-Lot was making for the basement door instead. That gave him an idea.

"Orana," he said quietly to the maid, "Cait and I will take care of this. Go back to the sitting room. Be prepared to take Mistress Hawke and Mal to the basement and open the trapdoor to Darktown, just in case..." He trailed off darkly.

The maid gaped at him but did not question the order. With a frightened peep, she backed away and scurried back to the room. They exchanged another glance and readied their staves in hand.

Caitlyn took a deep breath, readied her magic, and called out, "Who is there?"

There was no response but another grunt. Anders' face contorted with disgust and concern. He gripped his staff harder. Thin bolts of purplish lightning began to crackle around the globe.

"State who you are and what business you have at the Hawke manor!" Caitlyn called through the door, exasperated.

"The Hawke!" Several voices joined in that call, and the thumps recommenced. It sounded now like some of them were being made by warhammers and mauls rather than body-slamming. That infuriated Caitlyn.

"All right, that's it," she snarled, jerking the door open.

A group of dwarves clustered on the doorstep, but something was wrong with them. Their eyes were glazed over, and several of them had eyes that were completely milky white. Their skin was blotchy and bruised, and their faces were slack.

The dwarf at the head of the group had tumbled face-first onto the carpet when Caitlyn had popped the door open suddenly, but he was back on his feet quickly. "The blood of the Hawke!" the dwarf declared, trying to paw at her.

Caitlyn shouted in outrage and flung a blast of deadly cold at him, freezing him solid—but there were half a dozen others behind him, most of them now moaning about "the Hawke" and "the blood of the Hawke."

"The blood," one dwarf said, drooling, as he pointed in the direction of the sitting room. "The blood of the Hawke."

He is pointing at Mal, she thought in fury. With that, she blasted this one down as well and turned her attention to the crowd.

"The voice," another dwarf was saying to Anders, his eyes solid white and his jaw slack. "You hear it? I smell the darkness in you, yes."

The voices of the remaining Old Gods? Anders thought as he cast spells to kill the dwarves. They were obviously ghouls, and—yes—he could indeed sense the Taint in them, much as that thought disgusted him. With the defeat of Archdemon Urthemiel, darkspawn and ghouls might already be hearing Razikale or Lusacan. But wasn't that "the song" rather than "the voice"? And I shouldn't be hearing "the song" anyway.

Caitlyn was felling dwarf ghouls with one entropy and frost spell after another—she didn't, obviously, want to use fire indoors—and Anders was doing his part with lightning. The mabari knocked them over and wrestled their weapons out of their hands to give his mistress and her mate easier targets. He was clearly intelligent enough to identify the Taint by smell and to know that this was not the kind of victim that he should bite. Anders would have considered taking one of the ghouls captive temporarily to question it, but these seemed to be too far gone for anything of value to come of that. They babbled about "the Hawke" and "the blood of the Hawke," which was extremely unsettling, but they had nothing else significant to say.

A stream of blood struck the carpet. Anders glanced around sharply, fearing that a ghoul had given Caitlyn an open wound that would let in the Taint—that was how Malcolm had been Tainted in a fight with ghouls—but then a powerful blast of magic knocked the last surviving ghoul, a dual-dagger-wielding dwarf in the uniform of a Carta officer, onto its back. Caitlyn breathed heavily and clenched her fist as blood streamed red down her wrist. The dwarf screamed in pain as Caitlyn drained life from him via the wound that—Anders gasped in shock as he realized it—she had given herself.

The dwarf breathed his last, expiring with a gurgle. Caitlyn snarled in anger and reached in her pocket for a piece of cloth for a bandage, but Anders was faster. He sent a powerful healing spell at her, frowning as he did.

"You didn't have to do that," he chastised. I thought your line regarding blood magic was to use your blood to fuel regular spells or to cast the protective wards again, he thought in dismay. That was a blood magic spell in its own right. But he knew that scolding her right now was inappropriate and would only anger her.

"Yes, I did," she replied as her skin knitted back together. "That thing was fast. A trained assassin, I would guess." She sneered at the pile of dead bodies. "And look at this mess! Ghouls, I presume?"

He nodded. "Don't touch them. I'll move them into a pile and we'll burn them together."

As he dragged the dead bodies into a heap in the street, Caitlyn examined the carpet for bloodstains or saliva. She had tried to kill cleanly, but it would probably need to be torn out and replaced anyway—at least, up to the point that the first dwarf, the one who had gotten farthest into the house, had fallen. It exasperated her.

Anders threw the last body into the pile and cast a fireball at it. Caitlyn walked over and sent a bigger, stronger one.

"This is disturbing," she remarked to him in a quiet voice.

"Yes, it is. Do you have any ideas about what it might mean?"

"I have a very tentative, preliminary one," she said. "It may be completely wrong, but right now I would guess that this has something to do with the work that Father did for the Grey Wardens before I was born."

"Blood magic wards."

She nodded. "They wanted 'blood of the Hawke.' They were Tainted, but they looked like Carta to me, so they shouldn't have been in the darkspawn-infested parts of the Deep Roads. The Carta is mostly surface-based. They came in contact with the Taint somehow, obviously, and also got exposed to 'blood of the Hawke' or else they wouldn't be able to sense it. I'm guessing that, unfortunately, they came in contact with whatever it was that the Wardens hired Father to ward."

"I'll write to the Warden-Commander about this," Anders said, "and you should probably write to your brother. They were able to detect 'blood of the Hawke' in Mal too—"

"Bastards," she seethed angrily. That detail enraged her more than any other.

"—and that means that they could detect it in Carver."

She was silent as she contemplated that. "I am glad that he is surrounded by other Grey Wardens," she confessed. "You're right. He may already have been attacked. We do need to find out."

Mal, Leandra, and Orana emerged from the basement trembling when Caitlyn and Anders pulled the door. "It's taken care of," Caitlyn assured them. "Everything is fine now."

"Maker's breath," Leandra fretted. "This is not the Kirkwall I remember as a girl. People aren't even safe in their own homes in Hightown!"

I bet the city is no different—minus, perhaps, the detail of Tainted Carta dwarves—but you just didn't know about criminal gangs, Caitlyn thought cynically, but she kept that to herself.

"We'll get to the bottom of it," Anders promised. "We think it is Grey Warden-related."

Leandra's eyes grew wide. "Then Carver—"

"Mother, Carver is in a fortified castle," Caitlyn assured her, "surrounded by Wardens. I'm going to write to him, though, to see if he has experienced anything like this in Ferelden." She turned to Mal, whose eyes were wide. "You did great!"

"I saw you and Father casting spells," he said.

"Yes," she said, smiling. "We kept everyone safe."

"Are there any more of those things?"

Anders sighed; it was best to be honest. "We don't know, Mal," he said, "but if there are, your mother and I will do exactly the same to protect you. You're safe. Everyone is safe here."


Carver sent his reply a few weeks later, included in a parcel with a letter from Warden-Commander Cousland for Anders as well.

.

As a matter of fact, Cousland wrote, we were attacked at Vigil's Keep by Tainted dwarves the very day that your letter and Serah Hawke's letter arrived—a bit later than your attack, of course, but supportive of the theory that you and Serah Hawke articulated, if the work that Messere Hawke did for the Grey Wardens took place in the Free Marches. Our attackers were a mixed band of both former Carta and outcasts from Orzammar who fled after their candidate for the dwarven throne was killed. These unfortunates did not have any memories of their lives, however; I recognized them by the heraldic symbol they still bore on their armor.

Warden Carver knew that his father had performed a service for the Grey Wardens years ago, and that it involved a ward that he later adapted to protect the family home, but Warden Carver did not know any more than that about the magic and did not believe that it could have been blood magic. Evidently it was, since your lady confirms that fact.

The attackers here were also demanding "blood of the Hawke," but we were able to take a captive, who was marginally more forthcoming before we gave him a merciful death. In the midst of mindless blubbering and repetition of that demand, the ghoul managed to declare that a figure named Corypheus was their leader and that he wanted Warden Carver's blood. As I'm sure you know from your extensive study of languages in the Circle, this is a Tevinter word that means "conductor." Our working theory in Ferelden is that this "Corypheus" is a talking darkspawn, a disciple of the Architect who was never killed, and who has somehow devised a way to "conduct" the Taint through those he infects. As you may recall from the missive included with Warden Avernus's potion, I was concerned about this very outcome. We theorize that he wants the wards that Messere Hawke cast taken down, for some malign reason. Warden Carver does not know what the Marcher Wardens hired his father to secure; if your lady or your mother-in-law has any information about that, it might be useful.

I have made plans to send Warden Carver and another Warden, a fairly recent recruit named Darrian, to Kirkwall. Because of the strong probability that this Corypheus can manipulate minds through the Taint, I have urged them, and also urge you, to include trusted non-Wardens in the scouting mission as a majority, in case the Wardens have to be subdued for everyone's good. If there are too many ghouls or other dangers, please leave at once and gather greater strength of numbers. I do not want anyone to die.

.

Anders passed this note to Caitlyn, who had just finished reading her brother's very short letter expressing his intention to come to Kirkwall soon with Warden Darrian, an elf who apparently had some family ties to Highever. She read Cousland's letter with growing alarm in her face. Finally she returned the letter to him and gripped his shoulders firmly.

"You are not going on this," she said.

He raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Oh, I'm not?"

"No. You are not. I am, and Carver is. You are staying here with your son. You read yourself what your commander says about too many Wardens in the party—and frankly, with Justice as an extra variable, I don't like the idea at all."

Anders wanted to continue arguing with her, but with it laid out like that, he could see her point. However, there was still a concern for him. "What about healing?" he said. "You know one spell, but will that be enough?"

She considered. "I'll ask Merrill to come along as well. Carver would like that, I expect. She knows only the same one I do, but we'd be healing injuries, so we would not need your full training."

He hated the idea of her going on a dangerous adventure, but she was more than capable of taking care of herself, and she was making legitimate points. "All right," he said reluctantly. "I'll make sure to give the other Joining potion ingredients I have to your brother or the other Warden, though, just in case."

She nodded. "And, for the record, I have no idea what Father secured for the Wardens. We can ask Mother, but I doubt he told her. It's probably a Grey Warden secret. This 'Corypheus' must think it's something he can use, though."

Unfortunately, Leandra knew no more than Caitlyn or Carver about what her late husband had done for the Grey Wardens twenty-six years ago. "They would not let him keep notes about it," she said, "and he never wanted to talk about it."

"Well, it was blood magic," Caitlyn said. "Perhaps he felt guilty and just wanted to move on."

"It's come back to haunt us, though," Anders pointed out. "I wish the Wardens weren't so secretive. They don't even share among themselves—so when something fails, we're left with limited information about what we need to do."


Leandra was tearfully eager to see her son again, even though it was for a deadly serious reason and was far from a social visit. He was pleased to see them too, diligently though he tried to hide it, and was happy to indulge his nephew as Mal read one of his books aloud to show off.

"When is the next big milestone expected?" he said in an undertone to Anders and Caitlyn once the child had scampered off to play with the cat.

Anders tensed. "What milestone?" he said defensively.

Carver shrugged. "Whatever a child does after learning to read. Writing? I don't know."

Anders let out his breath. "Whenever he does something significant again, I won't miss it, at least."

Caitlyn had observed the exchange with interest. As soon as she had Anders alone, she asked him: "What was that moment of tension with my brother about?"

"I thought he was baiting me," he replied. "I thought he was mocking the prospect of Mal showing magic. And I'm still not entirely sure that he wasn't."

She placed her arms gently around his waist. "Carver is different, Anders. He might have done that five years ago... Maker's blood, we're approaching six from the date you first arrived in Lothering... but after everything that happened to this family, he wouldn't mock that now."

Anders was silent for a moment and then nodded. "You're probably right. I'm just sensitive to it." He gazed to the side, where Mal was playing with the animals in the next room over. "The idea of losing him... of that bastard who stabbed the little girl in the back, or whoever it was that destroyed Karl, taking him away..." A momentary bluish-white crackle of light flashed down his face.

"It will not happen," she said, fixing her gaze resolutely with his, her teeth clenched. "We are his parents. We will not let it happen. Your father was a bad parent, Anders—but my parents were not like that, and we are not like that."

"You're right," he said. "If we have to, we'll die to protect him."

"No," she said. "That would lose him his protection. If he is a mage, we'll kill to protect him."

Anders was surprised at her dark vehemence, but of course she was right. What good could we do him dead? That's a meaningless sentiment. She is absolutely right.

In his mind, he sensed that Justice agreed.


The other Warden, Darrian Tabris, was an alienage elf who chose to stay in the Hanged Man upon arrival in Kirkwall rather than imposing on the Hawke family. Caitlyn and Anders met him the next day, accompanied by Carver. Varric and Merrill were also expected to be at the pub—Varric because he basically lived there, Merrill at Carver's invitation to hear about the planned excursion.

"You're not trying to set her up with Warden Darrian, are you?" Caitlyn asked him along the way.

Carver glared at his sister. "No. Merrill and I have continued to correspond and I've been looking forward to seeing her—but even if we hadn't, I wouldn't try to 'set her up' with anyone. She's a strong person and can choose for herself."

"I'm glad you see that now at last," she replied.

Carver suppressed a snarl. "As for Darrian, if he were 'in the market,' I'd probably have better luck setting him up with Anders if he were single."

Anders and Caitlyn both glared at Carver, who looked insufferably smug. "All right, you got your moment of revenge on me with that," she said hotly. "But he is not single, and you say your friend is not 'in the market' anyway."

"Look," Carver said, his voice still grouchy but suddenly serious, "don't bring this subject up to him, all right? I hate telling tales on someone, but I guess you need to know this about his past. Darrian lurked, forgotten, in a secret cell in Howe's basement in Denerim for weeks, even after the Warden-Commander believed she had freed all the living prisoners toward the end of the Blight. He survived on rats, bugs, and the water that dripped from the ceiling."

Caitlyn and Anders stopped cold and stared. Carver continued mercilessly.

"Howe didn't actually imprison him. Howe did have him fed—so Howe's death actually made his circumstances worse, though that was no fault of Cousland's, since she didn't know he was there—but he was actually imprisoned by guards of Bann Vaughan Kendells. He was locked up for trying to save his bride from being raped and murdered by the bann on their wedding day."

Caitlyn's hand found its way to her open mouth. Anders placed a hand on her waist to comfort her, but he too was deeply disturbed.

"And he failed, by the way," Carver said bitterly. "So, no. He's not interested in matchmaking. He got out when the Crown took over the Denerim arling and cleaned out the entire estate, then disappeared until he turned up at Vigil's Keep asking to join the Wardens."

Caitlyn and Anders were visibly horrified. When she was finally able to compose herself, she said, quietly, "Thank you for telling us."


Warden Darrian still showed signs of his starvation in the cell, even though he had been free since 9:31 and had eaten like a Grey Warden for a couple of months. He was quite thin for a Warden and his eyes were still a bit sunken. His black hair was also thin. However, he declared that he was willing and able to see the expedition through, and he could wield double daggers expertly. Although he was dour and bitter, he seemed interested in seeing the rest of the world, or perhaps anything outside Ferelden, where he had been mistreated so terribly. Caitlyn found herself thinking of Fenris. I hope Fenris finds a purpose in his life beyond killing Danarius, she thought. Darrian has become a Grey Warden and seems satisfied with that.

Varric and Merrill eagerly signed up for the expedition. Varric, indeed, knew of a Carta base in the Vimmark Mountains that might bear fruit.

"It's likely to be heavily guarded, and I expect they have brontos," he warned, "and if this Corypheus character got his claws into that branch of the Carta, the Taint is also going to be there."

"If it is, then that's just another reason why we need to clean it out," Carver said roughly, adjusting his greatsword on his back.

Varric raised his eyebrows. "Well, Junior, I'm glad you're so enthusiastic, but you do realize that if Anders doesn't go, there are only two Grey Wardens along."

"Anders is not going," Caitlyn insisted. "We needed a Warden for the Deep Roads expedition because they can sense darkspawn in advance. We already have two for this. Merrill and I know how to heal injuries now. Anders belongs at home. If more of these Tainted dwarves tried to attack the house, sensing Hawke blood in Mal, Mother and Orana could not defend him."

"And Aveline is Captain now, but you know, Isabela or Fenris could..."

"Isabela, baby-sitting a child?" Caitlyn laughed.

"I will not put him under the influence of a magic-hater," Anders said darkly at the same time. "Caitlyn is right. I'm staying at home."

Varric nodded, accepting their decision. "Very well. I guess we should all start planning this."


The group agreed to set out on the day after First Day. The dead of winter wasn't a great time for a hike through the desert, but that was when the Tainted dwarves had attacked, so they had little choice. At least it was warmer in the Free Marches than it would have been in southern Ferelden.

Caitlyn woke up the morning they were to set out feeling uneasy and tense. She knew that it was possible people, including herself, could die, but she had faced down death many times before in Kirkwall and had become somewhat inured to that. Her unease was of a different sort, she thought: a powerful, if indescribable, sensation that something bad would come of this. Although she and Anders had enjoyed themselves thoroughly the night before, even her dreams in the Fade had been unsettling in a vague way. She had wandered paths in the Fade all alone, with a heavy crown of black metal on her head and a strangely distorted vast green gash in the sky. At one point along the interminable trek, she had seen a translucent vision in the swirling Fade-mist of Anders fighting a vast shadow and being killed by a sharp tendril of it. Then, just as horror had almost overtaken her, the vision had shifted to depict another man in his place, whose identity was not clear to her in the fuzzy Fade. Mal, her mother, and Carver were nowhere to be found, and as she had turned back to look for them, she realized that her path had left bloody footprints. She had looked down at her hands and realized that blood was there too—and it had dripped from the crown she wore, which seemed to be the source.

It's just a dream, Caitlyn thought as she moved about the house to get ready. I dreamed it because I am nervous, and it exacerbated that. The crown probably means that I am still scared of what I may have to do to become Viscountess—or after, if I succeed. The rest of it is just general fears. We'll be fine. She stepped over to the window and gazed out at the sky. No green gash. It was just the Fade. It's not real.

When the time came for her and Carver to depart and meet the others in Lowtown, she still hugged her mother, Mal, and Anders very tightly, feeling a tension in her chest.

"Hey," Anders said gently, "you'll be fine, love. I have faith in you." He tilted her head upward to gaze into her eyes—but only for a moment. In the next, he pulled her close and kissed her deeply.

They broke apart, their eyes fluttering open again. He smiled at her and gave her another, final hug. "Go get them."


"What a desolate, miserable stretch of land," Caitlyn remarked as the group reached the barren, cold Vimmark Mountain region where the Carta base was to be found. "Before my family moved to Lothering, we lived near the Frostbacks, and I remember it. Those mountains were beautiful. Verdant. Snow-capped."

Merrill looked equally unhappy. "The Sundermount is nice," she said wistfully.

Varric exchanged wry looks with Warden Darrian. "This is a desert," the dwarf said.

"How can the Carta even get supplies brought to them out here?"

"No one wants to defy the Carta, that's how. Ah... there's our base."

The wood-and-stone structure loomed ahead, partially obscured by fine dust in the air. Caitlyn scowled. She and Merrill cast protective bubbles around themselves as the others lifted handkerchiefs to their noses and mouths to avoid breathing it in.

At last they reached the base—and were almost immediately attacked.

"They're ghouls!" Carver exclaimed as he cleaved a dwarf in half. "The guards are Tainted!"

"That's not good," Varric muttered as he sent bolt after bolt into them.

Even after the initial guards went down, they continued to have to fight their way through the Carta fortress. There were indeed brontos, and the large, aggressive beasts with thick hides proved a challenge to put down. Even worse, though, was the fact that every single Carta dwarf that they encountered was a ghoul—and most of them were braying for "blood of the Hawke" for Corypheus.

"I'm glad you lot figured out that it has to do with what dear old dad did, because otherwise it would make no sense that they'd want Hawke's blood," Varric remarked in a wry aside. "Everybody knows she's no virgin. If we didn't know what it was about, I'd assume they really wanted Junior's."

"Oh really? Well, I'm not one either, dwarf," Carver growled.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes as Varric and Warden Darrian tried to suppress their amusement at having so easily baited him. Merrill, on the other hand, gave him a sharp glare that brought some abashment to his face.

During another brief respite from fighting, Varric picked up a sheaf of papers and paged through it. "I liked these guys better before they got religion... or... whatever this is," he muttered. "Look at this!" He showed the journal to the others. "This is insane."

They read quickly through it. Initially the notebook was filled with business dealings and transactions. At a point, however, the writing changed, becoming praises of "the Great One, Corypheus" for helping them to "see the light." "Insane" is a good word for this, Caitlyn thought.

An arrow thudded into a post beside Varric. With that, the team engaged the next round of ghouls that had become aware that their base was infiltrated.

At last, the fortress was empty. Varric had had to fight and kill the dwarf who had crafted his unique weapon, Gerav, now become a ghoul. At last, the inventor had been slain by his own invention. It was apparent to everyone in the group that Varric was taking this hard, though he was trying to rally himself to feign indifference. Neither Merrill nor either of the Hawkes knew what to say to him, but curiously, the person who barely knew him at all, Warden Darrian, sat down beside him and said something under his breath that appeared to provide some comfort to Varric. He nodded and rose to his feet, slapping the elf on his back. "Right you are," he said. He turned to the corpse of Gerav. "Atrast vala, you old bastard. You didn't deserve this."

The Carta boss, Rhatigan, also lay dead, his body looted. Caitlyn had picked up a new staff from him, which had belonged to her father. A dwarf would have had no reason to hold a mage's staff, but apparently it could be used in conjunction with blood to break through Malcolm Hawke's wards and destroy whatever they were holding back. That was the plan they agreed upon: destroy the thing rather than attempt to secure it. Whatever reason the previous generation of Grey Wardens had had for their decision, current events had proven it to be a poor one.

Caitlyn and the others entered a long, winding underground passage that maps in the hideout indicated would lead to the Grey Warden fortress that her father had warded. As she carried her new staff in hand, she could not help but think that she had, somehow, been manipulated into killing the Carta in order to obtain exactly this "key." But by whom? she thought. And why? She dismissed the nagging concern as lingering residue from her dream.


Caitlyn and Carver stared at each other in undisguised horror. "Father bound demons with his wards?" she whispered, her face contorted with anguish.

Carver was staring unhappily at her. He too was disappointed, but she was taking it harder.

"I knew they were blood magic... I've done some of that myself... but using bound demons to protect whatever is in this fortress?" She gazed at the spot where her father's magical barrier had formerly glimmered. "I thought I knew you, Father."

Merrill stood back stonily, evidently disapproving of Caitlyn's disapproval, and neither Varric nor Darrian had anything to say to her either. But Carver stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder in a surprisingly gentle gesture.

"He did it because these Wardens ordered him to," he said. "He had no choice. This is how he earned the money to take care of Mother and our family." He stared at his sister's face. "He never had anything to do with demons afterward. That tells you all you need to know about what he thought about it."

She sighed. "You're right, I suppose," she acknowledged, "but... it still hurts." She gazed again at the empty spot. "I remember when he told Bethany and me about blood magic and warned about how it became easier to justify moving one's personal 'line' again and again 'for the greater good' once one starts. He knew. He was speaking from personal experience." And I have already moved my line, she thought, remembering Anders' clear disapproval of her blood spell the night that the Carta dwarves attacked the house. I've taken a step in that direction myself.

"Right. I wasn't there for that, of course, but he would've been. And that's better than some self-righteous priest who's never faced a hard moral choice in her life lecturing about it, isn't it? It was real when he said it."

She was surprised; when had Carver become so... well... thoughtful? She managed a sad smile for him. "Yes. It was real. He was real," she said. "A real person with flaws, like all of us." Tears formed in her eyes. "Let's move on."


They continued through the fortress, encountering darkspawn, demons, and shades along the way. A ghoul who had once been a Grey Warden, Larius, seemed to dog their footsteps, offering warnings and remarks, but not assisting them. Caitlyn was tiring of it after the second encounter. This was apparently a Warden who had gone to his Calling but had not had the death in battle that he had been led to expect. She was inclined to give it to him now if she just could get the chance. This was sad and disgraceful for a Grey Warden.

Maker, let the potion that Anders and Carver took protect them from this, she prayed. Even if it makes them more suggestible, anything is better than this.

As if in cruel, mocking answer to her silent prayer, Carver and Darrian began to wince and scowl. "I hear a voice in my head," Carver said, his eyes wide with horror.

"So do I," complained the elven Warden. He glowered balefully down the hall. "It's coming from deep in the fortress."

"One thing seems unfortunately clear," Caitlyn said, her skin prickling at the very idea of what she was about to say, but it still had to be said. "I don't think the Fereldan Warden-Commander's theory of Corypheus is quite right. From what we've seen so far—especially the ancient notes from early Wardens—it's all too apparent that Corypheus is an equal of the Architect, not a disciple of him, and that he himself is locked up in this prison. And he used the Taint to manipulate those dwarves."

They were all silent, agreeing in unspoken assent with her grim conclusion. "Do you think," Darrian began, "that there really could've been seven ancient magisters, and the Architect was one, and this Corypheus is another?"

Carver and Caitlyn shuddered. Varric also looked troubled by that, though it had less meaning to Merrill. "I hope not," Caitlyn burst out. "The Architect couldn't control the minds of his disciples, according to Anders. That was why they had warring factions. Corypheus, whatever he is, can. If anything, he's stronger!"

"Maybe we should just call this off," suggested Varric. "The plan was to take down the wards and kill the thing that the old Wardens protected, but perhaps the plan needs to change now."

Caitlyn considered that for a brief moment before shaking her head. "No, we can't do that. It's clear that Corypheus was using the Carta to get a Hawke captured so that he could be freed, but if we back away, the attacks will continue until he does get his sacrifice. We need to give him what he wants and then strike him down immediately—be rid of the threat for good." She took a deep breath. "Anders killed the Architect. I think that between the five of us, we can handle this."


Caitlyn and her team gazed around the ancient ruins at the lowest level of the structure. A strange greenish mist surrounded everything, and Caitlyn felt half in the Fade. This was a place of powerful, ancient magic. It was night now, which provided an additional sinister, foreboding aura.

Varric was taking in the family history that he had uncovered here, the body of Tethras Garen, the son of the Paragon who had been the founding ancestor of Varric's house. He had been accused of a murder that he had not committed—and after decades, was now exonerated of the crime.

"The Warden-Commander knows the king of Orzammar," Warden Darrian offered. "A delegation of Wardens could go to Orzammar with the evidence and have it entered in the Shaperate..."

Varric breathed heavily as he picked up the Legionnaires' journals. "I'll think about it," he said. "I've always been a surfacer myself. I have no interest in living underground. But... maybe... for history."

Caitlyn sensed that he wanted to be alone, so she stepped aside with her brother and Merrill following close behind. Along the way, she had collected ancient artifacts of the Old God Dumat, because they were magical and historical—but here, in this primeval, highly magical part of the fortress, she had found an ancient altar to Dumat where the objects could be placed. What is such a thing doing in a Grey Warden fortress? she thought. The Wardens were founded to destroy the corrupted Old Gods! Dumat was the Archdemon of the First Blight. Did the earliest Wardens try to appease him instead of killing him? Or did they build their fortress on top of an earlier Tevinter site, perhaps? She approached the altar and considered it. Dumat was dead; the Hero of the First Blight, whose identity was now lost to history, had slain him. But perhaps there was magic in the site that the ancient magister-priests had placed there. Perhaps she would get some kind of reward...

"You'd better not do what it looks like you're thinking of doing," Carver warned.

She blinked and came to her senses. "You're right," she said, raising her staff. A ball of raw magical force formed in her hand, and she flung it at the altar.

Over half a dozen Fade creatures erupted from the altar and began to attack. Distracted by the commotion, Varric and Darrian hurried over to engage the demons and shades. As Caitlyn sent blasts of magic at them, she felt exhilarated. Picking a fight for no reason—she knew she could have just done nothing—was dangerous, but if she had placed the offerings, she would only have appeased these demons. Defying them made her feel better—about her father and about herself.


They were back inside another part of the fortress, having failed to find the imprisoned Corypheus in the ancient level. The ghoul Larius was there again—but now he was accompanied by a Grey Warden mage, Janeka, and three other Wardens in her command.

Caitlyn had had enough of both of them already. Janeka was raving like a lunatic, declaring that the Wardens could control Corypheus—even though the ancient notes they had found indicated that other Wardens had tried and failed—but although Larius was taking the sensible position that the creature should be released and slain at once because the wards were failing, he had thus far been of no help to her and she did not particularly trust a ghoul. Their minds could turn quickly, and Larius was under Corypheus's influence too even though he was trying to fight it.

I can't just slay both of them, though, she thought. I need a guide to take me to Corypheus. I have to pick one.

"You are Hawke," Janeka said. She glared menacingly at Larius. "Do you realize that this man—while he was still a man—was the Grey Warden who ordered your father to serve him or he would never see his woman and child again?"

Caitlyn stiffened. A wave of anger washed over her, saturated with dark and sad memories of Anders' four-year absence from her and their child. Anders, she thought, as though she could reach him through her thoughts. If some Taint-addled bastard had issued an ultimatum like that to Anders...

"That's rich, coming from the Warden who corrupted the Carta and set them on the Hawkes."

The speaker was Varric. He was glaring at the middle-aged mage, his mechanical crossbow pointed right at her neck.

"Varric? How do you..." Caitlyn began to say.

He sneered at Janeka. "It's bloody obvious. I'm not saying that one"—he scoffed at Larius—"isn't a right bastard, but this one has a far higher body count. Dozens of dwarves dead, and for what? You could've just sent a note to Hawke, you know." Bitter, dark sarcasm filled his words.

Janeka gripped her staff menacingly. "It was necessary to draw the Hawkes here so that Corypheus can be set free!"

Caitlyn had had enough. She didn't like this choice, but ultimately it was the only possible one she could make now. "No, it was not necessary," she said. "Larius blackmailed and extorted my father, but he dealt honestly with him and upheld the bargain. My friend is right. You destroyed dozens of people to trick me, and in the process, you threatened the life of my little son, you bitch!"

With that, the battle was joined. Unfortunately the three Wardens who were with Janeka fought beside her, and had to be slain too, but Caitlyn found that she did not care. Their leader hadn't forced them to do that. They could have switched sides instead of taking up arms against fellow Grey Wardens Carver and Darrian. The Order was better off without that sort of person. Nonetheless it was visibly painful for her brother and his comrade to have to kill other Wardens, even misguided ones, and she was grateful when the unpleasant battle was finally over.

She turned to Larius. "Let's get this over with at last," she said, "and then... I'll free you."


"The seals are breaking!" the ghoul exclaimed as the strange, attenuated figure in rotting robes rose from below the floor. "He is here! Be ready!"

Caitlyn held her staff—her father's legacy—menacingly, readying the most powerful spell she could muster. Merrill cast a series of strong Dalish wards to shield herself and readied her own staff. Varric retreated to a side nook and loaded Bianca with bolts. The two Wardens bounded forward, blades drawn and poisoned, to engage the...

What is that thing? Caitlyn thought in a flash as Corypheus revealed himself. He didn't look like any darkspawn she had ever seen. He really did look like a decayed, Blighted human. Could he really have been an ancient magister, a priest of an Old God?

"Be this some dream I wake from? Am I in dwarven lands?" the thing said, gazing around in apparent confusion. His gaze suddenly fixed upon Caitlyn, and a malicious smile formed on his face.

In that instant, something strange happened to her. Fragments of the dream she'd had the night before they had left came back, overpowering the sight before her now.

The vast shadow, slaying someone... not Anders, please not him; the other person, whoever it is. The vivid green gash. Blood, so much blood. A long path. The gash again.

It was over in a flash, and it didn't seem to have affected the creature at all. "You!" Corypheus demanded of Caitlyn, who was almost reeling from her... whatever it was, apparently an intrusion of the Fade into her magically attuned mind, she guessed. "Serve you at the Temple of Dumat? Bring me hence! I must speak with the First Acolyte!"

She shook her head briefly as though to clear it. "The Temple of Dumat is defiled," she snarled back. "I did that."

Corypheus had been about to say more, but this deliberate, blatant insult stopped him at once. "How dare you? You will suffer for your blasphemy!" he exclaimed. "Dumat! Lord! Tell me! How long have I slumbered? What waking dream is this?"

"Your god is dead, slain by someone like me," Carver said, "just as you're about to be!"

With that, the group attacked.

It was a long, brutal, difficult fight, made even more so when the thing summoned shades that attacked simultaneously as he cast lethally hot flames. They had to huddle in close quarters where only the ends of the tails of fire could burn them, which gave the shades an unfair advantage. Caitlyn and Merrill cast healing spells repeatedly, but for the first time since she had set out, she found herself wondering if it had been the wrong decision to make Anders stay behind. Carver and Darrian had struggled occasionally with the voice of Corypheus, but they had not been unduly influenced. But they don't have familiar spirits, she reminded herself. And Merrill and I can handle—

The flames ended, but in that moment, a blast of rock caught her from behind, slamming the breath out of her. She was quite certain it broke some of her ribs too. She tumbled to the ground and was instantly struck with a powerful bolt of lightning.

For what felt like forever, she was unable to take a breath. It could not have been more than a few seconds, but they were some of the most terrifying seconds of her life. She heard the rest of the group continuing to fight, their will perhaps intensified because she was down. When she was finally able to take a breath again, she got to her feet and cast a healing spell on herself. It was not anything like what Anders could do... she still felt drained, as if a single blow could lay her flat... but it was enough that she could fight again.

Her energy continued to flag as the group slowly, gradually, whittled Corypheus down. He continued to call on Dumat, and strangely, when he did, he was able to command a powerful spell, but Dumat was dead. The Grey Wardens had slain him long ago. Undoubtedly a demon was masquerading as the deceased Old God instead; she just hoped she wouldn't have to face that after they finally defeated this thing.

The creature sent another blast of lightning at Caitlyn as she faced him directly. It knocked the wind out of her again, but she somehow managed to stay on her feet. She stared glassily at him. He was losing, and he knew that she was the greatest threat to him, somehow.

She drew her small, but deadly sharp, knife with her left hand. "Die, you ancient Tainted bastard," she hissed weakly as she sliced a long cut in her staff arm. Blood dripped to the ground, but she clenched her fist tightly around her staff and cast a spell that she had read about in her forbidden book but never—until now—used.

Corypheus bent over, gasping and croaking, as ancient contaminated blood poured from him. Carver stared at his sister in shock for a moment, then bounded forward to finish the thing off with a blow from his sword—but the body was motionless and drained by the time he reached it. Caitlyn let out a pained gasp and tumbled to the ground, wrapping a bandage around her gash and trying to stop the bleeding with a spell.

Another line crossed, she thought, but never again, ever. This once and never again.

"Are you all right?" Varric said, approaching her. "You look rough, Hawke, I'm not going to lie."

She gazed at him with tired eyes. "I feel rough. We did it, though. Let's get out of here."

Merrill was also completely drained, and she had no more lyrium with her. She did not keep much on her in the first place, and it was all gone. She cast a healing spell at Caitlyn, which in combination with Caitlyn's own spell did help seal the cut. However, Caitlyn had sustained many injuries in the fight, and she realized now that her ribs were not yet healed. She also had a bad feeling that the blow from the rock had done something to her spine. Her legs were tingling.

"Someone put that poor fellow out of his misery," she said, referring to Larius. "I can't."

"No," the Warden said at once. "My head is clear now. I can think again."

Warden Darrian had his blades unsheathed, but as the ghoul spoke, he wavered.

"You did well," Larius continued. "My gratitude you have for my freedom."

Caitlyn's legs were tingling so intensely now that she could not get back on her feet. "Ugh," she groaned. "Fine. Suit yourself. I don't care anymore."

As it was apparent that slaying the ghoul would probably be yet another fight, rather than a willing submission to a long-desired death, the rest of the group sheathed their weapons. Carver helped his sister to his feet. "Come on," he said. "We'll get you back home."

Varric moved to her other side to support her. "And let's say whatever we need to say on the way back, because Anders is going to kill us, you know."


"What?" Anders roared as Carver explained to him what they had just done and why he and Varric had had to carry Caitlyn back into her home. Her legs had completely given out once they reached the city. "She took a hit to her spine and you idiots let her continue to fight? You even let her walk for miles after her legs were tingling?"

"I defeated Corypheus!" she exclaimed from the divan on which she had been laid. "That cut on my arm..."

"Yes, I'm not even going to talk about that right now," he seethed. "If you are paralyzed from this, I hope that defeating him was worth that to you!"

"Mamma?"

Carver, Varric, and Anders turned around. Mal was at the foot of the stairs. At Caitlyn's instructions, Orana had ushered Leandra into the family study with a strong drink until Anders came to the room to reassure her. She had shut Mal in his bedroom, but apparently he had not gone to sleep.

"Are you..." The child's expression was horrified and frightened. He turned to Anders. "She might not walk again?"

"Oh, son," Anders said, his face falling. "I... didn't mean..."

The lack of an immediate reassurance that Mamma would be all right sent Mal into a whirl of desperation. He dashed into the living room. "No, Mamma," he pleaded. "You will walk."

"Of course I will," she said. She believed it, too. She could feel her legs, but they could not support her weight because she seemed unable to control them. There was certainly nerve damage, but Anders could repair that, surely.

Anders gently turned her over and lifted her blouse. Shaking his head at the ugly black bruise right across her spine, he placed his hands over her and cast a diagnostic spell. He suppressed a curse for the sake of the boy. "Great. You really got hurt this time, I hope you realize. I'm going to have to cast some specialized spells on this or you really might not walk again."

A cry escaped the child. He gave his mother a quick hug, which she returned awkwardly from her prone position, and then he stood beside her, staring in intense concentration. In spite of the circumstances, and her sudden anxiety at what Anders was saying—even though he seemed confident that his spells could prevent her from being paralyzed—she found her son's determination endearing.

Mal stared at the bruise on Caitlyn's back, then gazed instead at her right arm, which still bore an ugly red mark from the wound she had given herself to hemorrhage Corypheus. He placed his small hands on her arm and squinted, his face twisting in dedicated focus. He took a quick breath.

"Mal," she began to say, turning her head to look at him, a sympathetic expression on her face, "you're pretty young to—"

A burst of blue light emanated from the child's hands. It was small and it vanished quickly, but it was no illusion, no mental trick, and it was utterly unmistakable.

Anders stared hard at his son, struck silent. Caitlyn almost forgot about her injuries and tried to sit upright. Across the room, Carver and Varric both drew breath sharply.

Caitlyn was not sure that the spell had actually done anything to her injury—but—

"I did it!" the boy exulted, jumping on his feet. "I did healing magic!"

"Holy Maker," Anders said in a whisper that was almost inaudible.

"Father!" he exclaimed, turning to Anders, "let's heal Mamma together!"

Anders was torn for a moment. The injury that Caitlyn had sustained had already gone with insufficient healing for far too long, but his son had just shown magic—at age four! Five this month, Anders thought, but still—that's very young. But then... we never taught him anything against magic. He wouldn't try to suppress it, even unconsciously.

He turned to his son. "She has delicate, difficult injuries," he explained kindly, "and they need an experienced Healer."

"Like you," Mal said, a little disappointed but not too much.

"Like me. But you can watch, little Healer."

Mal beamed as Anders turned back to Caitlyn. He tried to put his sudden burst of anxiety about his son aside and focus on healing her. Summoning all the magical energy that he could, he focused his spells on the spinal injury, sending waves of magic deep into her body to reconnect nerves, clear away fluid and clotted blood, and soothe the inflamed tissue.

At last she was able to feel control over her leg muscles again. Just as she began to move, he held her down and shook his head. "Oh no you don't," he said. "You're going to let that continue to heal overnight before you try anything. I'll carry you upstairs."

"Now her arm," Mal urged his father.

"Yes," Anders said, gazing at her with ferocity in his eyes. "Her arm, indeed." That, at least, was straightforward to heal, and he managed it quickly.

Caitlyn smiled, staring up with her chin tilted. "Thank you, love. I'll try to be more careful next time."

"You had better." His tone was stern, but the sternness was rapidly leaving now that the immediate danger was over. He turned to Mal, who was still smiling.

"Mamma is going to be all right?"

"Yes, as long as Mamma rests as she is supposed to, she'll be as good as new," he replied. He squatted on the floor next to her and opened his arms to his son. "Now come here. I'm so, so proud of you tonight."

As Mal returned his father's embrace, Anders' heart was pumping with excitement, but also dread. He was very proud of Mal, just as he had said. He glanced to the side and could see that same pride in his wife's eyes. To show magic at age five, more or less—that was unusually young, and he was also proud that his son's first spell had been an attempt at a healing spell.

But at the same time, this meant that Mal would face challenges. We'll have to teach him that he cannot use magic in public... yet, he thought with a pang as he hugged the child closely. After telling him and teaching him that it's all right to be a mage, we'll have to explain to him that he has to keep his magic private for now. The very thought sent a flash of anger through him.

Anders tried to put that aside. He closed his eyes and embraced Mal tightly. I will never let anyone take you away, he promised silently. Your mother and I will do anything to keep you from being taken from us and locked away. Anything. This, I swear.

"You're squeezing me, Father," Mal said, his voice muffled by Anders' coat.

As Caitlyn suppressed a chuckle at that, Anders released the little boy and gave him a smile. "I'm just so proud of you," he said again. "Your mother and I both are."

"May I tell Grandma?"

Caitlyn nodded, and Anders turned to him. "Yes—and Uncle Carver and Varric also saw it, of course, but... let's keep it a secret from everyone else for a while yet, shall we?" The smile on Anders' face faded, and he took a heavy breath. "Tomorrow, son, after your mother is feeling better... we need to talk with you about some things."


Notes: And that bang is the end of Spells of Healing. Not a wholly unexpected bang, but still a dramatic and portentous finish, I hope. And no, I am not answering any questions about Hawke's dream.

The next chapter will begin Book Two, Spells of Power. I'm not beginning a new fanfic for it, though, so if you are following this story, please keep doing so!