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Scout Harding, appearing once the gates of Redcliffe were open again, tried to convince Bridget to stay in the village overnight, get some sleep before returning to Haven—but Bridget never wanted to see Redcliffe again. She knew that the sight of the walls red with the creeping growth of the lyrium, the memory of Fiona with the lyrium growing out of her body, would haunt her dreams for a long time to come.

Her companions seemed to agree; none of them so much as murmured when she told them she wanted to go straight home.

Blackwall hung back a bit, as if he didn't want to intrude his presence on her, and she was grateful for his quiet support. Sera went on ahead, bow at the ready, with a promise to take down a rabbit if she could spot one, so they could stop for a hot meal on the way back.

Dorian and Vivienne walked with Bridget, and she was grateful for both of them.

"What will you tell the Commander, my dear? He will not be pleased."

Bridget imagined not. "I don't know. Hopefully I'll think of something. What else could I do?" she asked. "The mages deserve a chance, and they haven't had one yet. Fiona made this huge, horrible mistake on their behalf, and look where she took them." She sighed wearily. "People like to talk of mages as if we're all the same, the same people, with the same wants and desires, but look at the three of us—we're all mages, and we don't even all agree on whether mages are safe or not."

"With that Breach in the sky, bringing demons out into our world?" Vivienne shook her head. "We need to be prepared; abominations are inevitable. And there are not enough Templars in the Inquisition to handle incidents."

"Perhaps you could train some of your rank and file with Templar skills?" Dorian suggested.

"That's not a bad idea," Bridget said.

"And of course, we'll need to close the Breach."

Vivienne nodded. "There has never been a greater threat to mages than that offered by the Breach. Until it is closed, no one is safe."

Bridget agreed with both of them, she really did. But having just fought her way through one nightmare, she couldn't contemplate having the strength to fight another. Not right now, at any rate.

"Tell me something, my dear," Vivienne said conversationally. "As you appear poised to have a hand in shaping it, what future do you see for mages?"

"What future do I see?" Bridget echoed, staring at the other woman. "I have just come from the future, Vivienne. It was a disaster. Corypheus and his red lyrium had taken over the world. So for now, the future I see, the one I'm working toward, is one where a demon army doesn't destroy everything we all know and love. Is that all right with you?"

Vivienne opened her mouth, then shut it again, giving a small, gracious nod. "Of course, my dear. It was an ill-timed question. My apologies."

"Madame Vivienne, perhaps you can tell me—I have always been fascinated by the White Chantry. What is the Grand Cathedral like in the fall?" Dorian smiled. "For that matter, what is fall like? I have never experienced one." He drew her forward. Vivienne seemed to understand that she was being ushered away, but she went along without protest.

Bridget fell back to walk with Blackwall. She felt an inexplicable urge to rest her head on his shoulder and close her eyes. Was it because she felt that he would fight off anything that came for her while she slept? She trusted him to stay awake, at least, which was more than she could say for herself at the moment.

He looked at her gravely, seeing the weariness in her blue eyes, and the dark smudges beneath them. "There was never going to be an easy solution to the mage dilemma, you know that," he told her.

She gave a faint smile. "No. There wasn't. I hope the others understand."

"They sent a mage to solve the problem. What else would they expect?" He looked at her for a moment, then said, "What you did took courage. You gave them a chance. Everyone deserves one." At that he looked away, biting his lip. Did everyone deserve a chance? He wasn't so sure. He didn't, or so he would have said just a few weeks ago. Now, though, standing here next to her … well, he wanted another chance, but he still didn't think he deserved one.

Bridget lifted her hands and rubbed her eyes, and Blackwall told himself he should stop talking, but he couldn't help himself. "Tell me, what was I like in the dark future you saw?"

She turned those blue eyes on him, and he saw a darkness there, a fear, that made him want to pull her close and tuck her head against his chest and promise her that he would keep her safe. He moved a few steps away from her, because he had no right to offer her any of that. No right at all.

"To tell the truth, you didn't seem much different. You—you sacrificed yourself for the greater good."

"Did I?" he asked in genuine surprise.

"You don't see yourself as that kind of man?"

"Not often, no."

"Well, you are. At least … that's what I see." There was a shyness in her eyes now, a faint color on her cheeks, and he wanted—more than he should want.

"Thank you," he said softly.

Conversation slowed to a halt as they kept moving, everyone too weary to do more than put one foot in front of the other. Eventually, too tired to go on, Bridget called a halt, and they rolled wearily into bedrolls, waking with the first light of dawn to breakfast on Sera's rabbit and climb the rest of the way to Haven.

The news had preceded them, and Bridget could hear the whispers as she passed. The rest and the mountain air had refreshed her a bit. She wasn't sure she was ready to face the three heads of the Inquisition, but that was the kind of potion that would boil over if she didn't take it off the fire right away, so she marched straight to the Chantry.

They were in the middle of an argument when she walked in. Cullen was shouting, "It's not a matter for debate! There will be abominations among the mages, and we must be prepared."

"If we rescind the offer of an alliance, it makes the Inquisition appear incompetent at best, tyrannical at worst," Josephine told him, looking worried.

"We're not going to rescind the offer," Bridget said firmly, and they all turned to look at her.

"What were you thinking?" Cullen snapped. "Mages loose with no oversight? The Veil has been torn open!"

"What better test of our ability to live in the world like normal people?" Bridget asked him coolly, stressing the "our" to remind him that he spoke to a mage. "If we can't handle it, now is the time to find out."

"And how many lives will be lost if they—you—fail? With the Veil broken, the threat of possession—"

Cullen's words were cut off by a growl from Cassandra. "Enough arguing. None of us were there. We cannot afford to second-guess our people." She gave a nod to Bridget, who was stunned by the show of support from that quarter. She would have thought Cassandra would be furious at the decision. "The sole point of Bridget's mission," Cassandra went on, "was to gain the mages' aid, and she has done that. And saved them from enslavement by the Tevinters, and removed a Tevinter threat from Ferelden that no one else seemed to be aware of." She gave Bridget a small smile. "You had quite the busy day."

"Exhausting," Bridget said, meaning it.

From behind her, Bridget heard the cultured voice of Dorian, "Ah, the voice of pragmatism speaks. And here I was just starting to enjoy the dizzying whirl of the circular arguments."

The others turned to look at him. Cassandra frowned. "Closing the Breach is all that matters."

"Perhaps. There was something about a demon army, however. Might we want to think about that?" Dorian came closer, his head cocked to the side inquisitively.

"You know better than anyone the consequences if we don't close the Breach," Bridget told him. "One step at a time."

"Of course. How foolish of me to get ahead of myself."

Leliana spoke up for the first time, and Bridget couldn't repress a shivver when she looked at her spymaster, seeing the cruel bird's visage Leliana's face had become after a year of torture. "You leave the details of what you saw in that future to me," the spymaster said. "I am also concerned about the suggestion that this Elder One intends to assassinate Empress Celene. Turmoil in Orlais could have grave consequences for all of us."

"Orlais falls, the Imperium rises. Chaos for everyone!" Dorian shook his head. "Sounds like the grandiose and impulsive planning of a Tevinter cult."

Cullen frowned at them all. "One battle at a time, please. First, we must organize our troops and the mage recruits. And then we should meet in the War Room to make our plans." He looked at Bridget, really looked at her, for what might have been the first time. "Will you join us?"

"In the War Room?"

"Naturally. It was your leadership that brought us the mages, and it will be your mark that closes the Breach. You have as much right as anyone. More."

"Thank you. I will be honored to assist." Bridget yawned widely. "Tomorrow?"

Cullen nodded. "You've earned a rest, Herald." He smiled, suddenly looking very young. "I hope the rest of the Inquisition is willing to let you have one."

"As do I," Dorian said. As the others drifted off to their own tasks, he came closer. "I find seeing the Breach more closely has given me an intense desire to get rid of it."

"It has that effect," Bridget agreed. "Does that mean you'll stay and help close it?"

"Oh, of course. The South is so charming and rustic—I just adore it to little pieces."

"You don't want to go home?"

"Eventually, yes," Dorian said. "But we both saw what the future can be if we don't succeed here, what this Elder One and his cult are trying to do. It could be that if I don't stay and help, I won't have a home to return to. Besides—if a Tevinter cult is going to try to destroy the world, it makes sense that a Tevinter should be part of stopping it." A rare moment of genuine grief passed across his face. "I want the world to see that some of us are opposed to this sort of madness, and are willing to stand up against it." He looked Bridget square in the eyes. "I stand with you. That future will not come to pass."

Bridget smiled. "There's no one I'd rather be stranded in time with—future or present." She'd come to trust him in their time in the future, and she was glad to have him at her side.

He returned the smile. "Perhaps we could skip the 'stranded' part."

They walked out of the Chantry together, to the tune of more whispers.

"What do you think they find so shocking? The presence of a heathen Tevinter? Or the Inquisition supporting the free mages?" Dorian chuckled. "What's next, after all? Elves running Halamshiral? Cows milking farmers?"

"Tevinter at peace with the rest of Thedas?"

"Oh, now, don't get carried away. Let's remain within the realm of possibility, shall we?" There was a genuine regret beneath Dorian's façade, and Bridget let the subject drop. "Have you given any thought to what this support will do—for mages in general, across Thedas?"

"I have to say I haven't. At the time, all I was really thinking was getting them away from Fiona and giving them a real chance—and us a chance to close the Breach." Bridget shook her head. "What was she thinking?"

"Well, not to perpetuate a stereotype, but blood magic has been known to confuse people and cause them to act against their own best interests."

"I suppose."

"Meanwhile, you've given Southern mages license to … well, be like me." He grinned.

"We should all be so fabulous."

"Yes. You absolutely should."

Over his shoulder, Bridget saw Solas. She wanted to know what the elf thought of the day's events. "Dorian, have they given you a place to sleep yet? You're all squared away?"

"I am."

"Good. Then I will see you later, if you don't mind."

"Not at all."

Solas smiled at her as she came toward him. "So we have gained the mages. Excellent. I knew you would prevail."

"You knew more than I did."

He shrugged, as if to indicate that wasn't a surprise. "I am interested by the rumor that you traveled forward in time."

Bridget shuddered. "No rumor. I really did."

"It wasn't a trick of the Fade?"

"No. No tricks, no blood magic. I was in the future. And it was … horrible."

"In that case, it is more vital than ever that the Inquisition succeed."

"But no pressure."

"What was that?"

"Nothing. You're right, of course. So many were dead; more had been corrupted. Knowing what will happen if we fail …"

"I suggest we do not do so. You should ready yourself for this Elder One." Solas looked at her even more seriously than was his wont. "You have interfered with his plans twice now—at the Temple of Sacred Ashes and now in Redcliffe."

"I imagine he's rather upset with me."

"To put it mildly. Would you like another lesson?"

Bridget shook her head. "Not right now, Solas, but thank you. I'm too tired to focus."

"I understand. Get some rest, Herald of Andraste."

"I'll do my best."

In the tavern, where she went for the midday meal, she found Varric, who perked up endearingly when he saw her come in. "Sunflower! Pull up a chair!"

"I don't mind if I do." She signaled to Flissa at the bar for a plate of the day's stew and a tankard of cider, then leaned back in her chair and smiled at Varric. "It's good to be back."

"Good to have you back. Hail the conquering hero!" He toasted her with his own mug. "Bringing the mage rebellion into the Inquisition—now there's a twist I didn't see coming." He studied her thoughtfully for a moment. "Although I probably should have. It's all true, the news Nightingale's raven brought back? Time travel and red lyrium and all of it?"

Bridget nodded. "All true." She gave Flissa an abstracted thank you for the food and drink as the barkeeper laid it on the table. "And terrifying."

"Yeah, I can see that. I wasn't even there, and I'm terrified. Red lyrium in Ferelden? Growing out of people's bodies? That's bad with a capital B. Finding it there really punches a hole in my 'red lyrium at the Temple was a coincidence' theory. And I liked that theory."

"It's not your fault if red lyrium is spreading."

"You think not? After I was the one to find that idol in the Deep Roads? Thedas had never heard of red lyrium before that."

"You can't know that." Bridget took a bite of stew. "Do you know how long it takes for red lyrium to grow?"

"I didn't even know it does grow. I mean, it took years for it to infect Knight-Commander Meredith … although, as far as I know, she wasn't actually ingesting the stuff. My brother—" He stopped and looked down at the table, getting himself under control. "My brother may have eaten some, I don't know, but it wasn't growing out of him."

Bridget smiled, putting a hand on his. "Let's stick with the red lyrium as a coincidence theory. Easier to get to sleep at night that way."

Varric sighed, shaking his head. "Honestly, I think sleep is a thing of the past. I'm going to put out some feelers, get some people trying to find out where the red stuff came from. I think I'll make that a priority."

"Good idea. Any part of that future we can stop is a step toward keeping it from coming true." Bridget could feel the images of the future beating at the back of her brain, and she rubbed her hands over her eyes to try to stave them off.

Varric smiled at her. "Never mind all the doom and gloom. You just won a big victory for the Inquisition—I think you should celebrate."

"Yes, I had big plans—put my feet up, maybe take a nap. Neither of which seems all that likely at the moment. People to see, things to do."

"That's the problem with you heroes. You never know when to take a moment for yourself." Varric looked at her thoughtfully.

"What are you thinking?" Bridget asked, not sure she liked that speculative look.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all." He got up. "I'll leave you to eat in peace."

She addressed the plate of stew, wondering what he had up his sleeve.

Matters of practicality kept Bridget busy the rest of the afternoon, going over equipment with Harritt and welcoming Horsemaster Dennet to the Inquisition—and naturally spending a fair amount of time admiring his horses. She'd never spent much time around animals, but Dennet spoke to his horses with such affection, almost as if they were human, so Bridget found herself speaking to them that way as well, and found them surprisingly intelligent.

The Iron Bull's tent was near the campground, and she wandered over to say hello.

"I hear that Vint guy sent you into the future."

"Yes. Not my idea of a good time."

He grinned. "I suppose it depends on the future you land in."

"I'd have preferred one that was slightly cleaner, and in which the whole world wasn't overrun by demons."

"Yeah. I'd go with one like that myself."

Bridget sighed. "Every time I think I understand magic, the rules change." She looked down at her hand. "It's … difficult not to know what I'm truly capable of."

The Iron Bull shrugged. "Most people don't, and they get through okay. You think our new friends have what it takes to close the Breach?" He grunted. "Damn thing gives me a headache just looking at it."

"Me, too." Bridget glanced at it over her shoulder, her left hand instinctively closing around the mark. The light was waning, the day coming to an end, and that reminded her there was one person she had yet to talk to today, little as she wanted to. She left the Iron Bull's tent and inside the stockade, she cautiously approached Leliana's.

The spymaster looked up as she approached, her beautiful sharp features not changing their expression. "Your support for the mages likely earned you enemies."

"What did they expect me to do? I'm a mage!"

"I doubt they considered that when thinking of what you might do."

"But you did."

"Yes. I am not surprised. I hope very much that your venture proves fruitful—I would like to see the mages prove that they are able to govern themselves. In the meantime," Leliana said crisply, "our agents will monitor the situation."

"And I will continue trying to close the Breach," Bridget said. "Let people hate me if they wish—as long as they stay out of my way."

Leliana laughed, a tinkling, musical laugh. "You would not have said that when I met you. The Inquisition has changed you already."

"Yes, it has."

The smile was gone from the spymaster's face as quickly as it had come. "But do not forget that the Inquisition is young—we will need to build our support. While I applaud you for your courage, be wary of your words and how they will affect those who hear them."

Brdiget looked at the spymaster, seeing again the aged, pain-sharpened predatory bird in her face. "In Redcliffe, I watched you die for me. You didn't give it a second thought. You stood and fought off countless demons and Venatori so that I could return here."

Leliana seemed unmoved by this news. "No doubt I would do so again. What is one small life in exchange for a second chance at history?" She gave a small smile. "I always loved a bargain."

"Nonetheless—I won't forget your noble sacrifice. I hope … I hope whatever future I can help procure will be worthy of it."

"I hope so, too." Leliana glanced down at the papers in front of her significantly, and Bridget got the hint.

"Well, I'll take my leave. I just … wanted to say … thank you."

Leliana nodded gravely, and Bridget left her tent, wondering if she would ever be able to crack the other woman's hard surface.

Somehow, she wasn't surprised to find Blackwall waiting for her as she came out. His features were hard to make out in the darkness, but the warmth in his voice comforted her. "I wanted to make sure you got back to your hut safely … and that you went back at all. After what you've been through, you need your rest."

"So they tell me."

"They're not wrong." They walked together, companionably, not hurrying. "What future do you see, for mages?"

"I hope the same future as everyone else. We're just people, after all. We have a right to live our lives, pursue a livelihood … raise our children." The locket hung heavily around her neck. If only freedom had come a few years earlier … For the first time, it occurred to her to wonder if Mykal was among the mages. She hadn't heard of him in years, not since he was sent away from the Ostwick Circle after her pregnancy had been discovered. She couldn't say that she missed him; it had hardly been a great love that they had shared. Just a pastime, really.

"In the Grey Wardens, mages are treated as brothers and sisters, like everyone else," Blackwall said.

Bridget smiled at him. "Should I become a Warden, then?"

He stopped and looked at her. "I think you are exactly where you belong."

"Thank you. I … think you are, too."

"Do you?" In the light from the window of a neighboring hut, she thought she saw him smile. "That's nice to hear. Good night, Bridget."

"Good night, Blackwall."