27 August, 9:32

To Varric Tethras,

From Marian Hawke,

All right, if you want the best fodder for your books? Ask Maeve about meeting Maharial and Zevran. Better yet, ask Fiolya because Maeve's definitely going to lie about how much she blushed when the two of them started flirting with her at the same time. I really wasn't sure she liked men at all until today, but now I definitely believe she enjoys lean and slender boys like the pair of them.

Merrill couldn't stop giggling, and neither could I.

They're still teasing her every chance they get, I'll give you the best comments later.

For now, what you should probably know is that you're right; they're definitely not going back to Kirkwall anytime soon. They're going to join Isabella, playing pirates I think, next year, and from what Maeve's implying she hopes to stay with our Rivaini friend long term. Not romantically, just wants to stay on the sea and avoid getting dragged into politics like she was in Kirkwall until Merrill figures out her magic mirror thing. After that, who knows.

Can't say I blame her. There's days where I regret convincing Anora to make me Arlessa, but still. Know that's going to disappoint you.

I'll try and talk her into visiting at least.

Hawke

22 Kingsway, 9:32

Buzz,

I can't say I'm surprised you're not actually coming home after a year, but I'm still upset. Know that there's an incredibly handsome dwarf giving you his saddest expression across the sea right now.

There isn't much to report on in Kirkwall right now. Old Stoneface is still the real power in the city, even if she can't lift a sword above her head anymore. Word is that she and the Grand Cleric aren't quite as mother-daughter as they used to be either, but I'm not foolish enough to pry into that mess. Apart from that, Dumar still jumps when she says, and the Qunari are still holding tight in their compound.

And yes, I heard your complaints about my lack of progress. Here's the next Swords and Shields draft, and the next pair of the Hard in Hightown serials. Let me know what you think, and please don't let Hawke scribble in the margins when you send them back this time.

Varric

18 Firstfall, 9:32

Sweet Thing,

I'm heading north for the winter, to see what prizes I can find in those seas. Don't worry, I'm not about to let myself get tangled up in Qunari business again.

Not until you're around to watch my back at least.

The southern seas should start to calm down around Cloudreach, I'll pull into Amaranthine to pick you all up around then. We can spend the summer finding fat Orlesian merchants to run down, then come back up here next winter. Let you see Rivain and Antiva, and let me avoid that disgusting cold.

I'll be porting over in Wycome by the time you get this, please send a letter to me there.

Captain Isabella

29 Haring, 9:32

Maeve,

I'm writing this in English to prove that I'm actually the one writing it. I swear to you, by where we're actually from, that I didn't have anything to do with what happened in Kirkwall. Neither did Elissa. Brosca was only supposed to visit the Black Emporium to purchase everything he could, and abscond with the golem if he could without doing anything to Xenon. That he put our emergency plan to eliminate Meredith into play was very much against my orders and against Elissa's.

I know you probably don't believe me, so I'm making a more obvious peace offering: I have the journals that were taken. I haven't read them despite Elissa's badgering to find out everything that another "seer" knows about what's coming to Thedas, and I'm willing to give them back to you.

All I ask in exchange is that you give Bethany and I three hours of conversation over dinner to explain my position. If you still don't agree with our plans, we'll go our separate ways and try not to interfere with one another. Maybe meet again when things get closer to the Conclave, because I still don't know how we're going to handle the Temple being blown apart.

Meet us in the Orlesian village of Giverny on the coastline in the first week of Drakonis, at the la maison de l'Estoile. I don't expect you to come alone, bring Merrill if you like, but if we see Hawke or anyone else we'll leave and you won't find us again.

I hope to see you there, and create peaceful accord between us,

Greg

Mirima

It was easy to become Longing, to feed most deeply on that yearning desire for times gone past, for memories of better days, for desires that could never truly be fulfilled.

It was harder to decide what that meant to Longing itself.

By then, Longing was certain that it had seen every possible version of those spirits most like itself. Seen those that savored mindless lust, those that adored love. Those that stoked the desire for wealth, that fed upon vanity, upon decadence. It had seen them all, and found them all... incredibly dull to interact with.

Even before it had named itself, Longing had considered itself better than them. In the wake of that first War of Corruption, it had become certain that it was. That it had grown beyond them. There was nothing to the others. No substance, no... change.

They were immutable, and content with that. They fed upon those mortals that most sustained them until those mortals were no more, and then they moved on. An endless repetition that ended only when they foolishly tried to experience the mortal world, and were inevitably slain, or else summoned by a mortal...

...and then inevitably slain.

Oh yes, some few made it there and back, as Longing had. Unlike Longing they seemed to have greatly enjoyed the experience, and longed to return.

It learned it could create tethers to its own kind when it first felt their desires. When it carefully manipulated several mortals, inspired them to summon a namless Spirit of Desire. Felt the little thing willingly submit itself to Longing, accepting a tether in its eagerness to walk the mortal world in a shell.

Longing had watched its experiences through their connection. Felt that little Desire's own contracts empower the lesser spirit, whose connection empowered Longing in turn.

And so it began to create its web. It found newly born spirits, those who had their first tastes of mortal dreams, who most desired to walk in the mortal realm.

Longing gained power through them, learned it could destroy its own kind when one rebelled, when it lashed out at Longing to free itself. Longing learned to pace itself in its web spinning, learned to be more cautious, more subtle among its own kind.

Longing relearned patience in the wake of its excitement. Learned to teach others of its kind on how to best seduce a mortal in their dreams. How to string them along. It gave its weakest, least valuable tethers to its new subordinates, keeping only the strongest for itself.

Yet even as its power grew, as it elevated itself... Longing still found itself puzzled.

Just what was it, truly?

And... what did it want to do with the power it now held?