She knew she was in the Fade, or at least the way her mind was interpreting the realm back to her. The ever-changing visages were familiar to her. It had the same oppressive atmosphere as when she allowed Isolde to be the sacrifice that opened the entrance into young Connor's dreams to free him of the clutches of a demon. The tragic sacrifice of a mother for her child. It was also no less oppressive than when the demon, Sloth, had ensnared them and she had spent what felt like hours freeing Alistair, Wynne, and Morrigan from their fates.

Vethari didn't need to be a mage to know that something in Fade had changed. A presence lurked within it, and it was hungry and prowling. Maybe the Canticles were right, maybe this was the afterlife and she was set to be consumed for the blood on her hands, or maybe this is how demons are truly made. Wayward souls pulled into its ever-changing landscape.

"Hello."

Vethari jumped, and looked to her side where a young man now stood, he couldn't have been older than 20. His pale hair was stuck to his face, he looked ghastly.

"Maker's breath, are you a demon?"

"Sometimes the dreamers call me a demon. It is how they explain what they don't understand. If it makes you comfortable to call me that, I'll be a demon." He disappeared and reappeared on an old, faded chair. It occurred to her then that she was in the Chantry of Lothering, how it had been before it had been overwhelmed by darkspawn. Wraiths came and went around her; they were refugees from the Blight, the villagers of Lothering. They didn't even realize they were dead.

"Am I dead-?"

The young man shifted, picking at his hands. He refused to meet her eyes, a hat obscuring his view.

"No."

"But I am in the Fade?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not a mage."

"No, you aren't?" He said it like he was confused that she was asking.

She drew in a sharp breath and walked around the Chantry made of memories. There was something she had to consider, especially being here and aware of her surroundings. In the past she would just black out and forget what happened. The Calling, it works in ways that even the Grey Wardens don't seem to know. Or, like with all sects, there was a branch who knew everything but kept the rest of them in the dark. Memory regression, delusion, and now being lucid in the Fade. There isn't much hope for her this way, she is already living on borrowed time.

"I don't think you are a demon. I knew a spirit once, who took over the body of a dead Warden. He called himself Justice." Vathari turned back to the boy and saw him frown at her words.

"He is gone now, but not forgotten." He was starting to seem restless.

"I read up on what happened at Kirkwall, I guess I assumed -"

"His purpose had been changed; he was no longer justice but something entirely new. A spirit cannot live with a changed purpose."

The implication that Justice, whom she had started to rely on, had moved on, was unsettling. She never considered him a demon, a walking corpse aside; there had been an unbridled sense of right and wrong in him. His lack of nuanced understanding regarding mortals had almost been refreshing, but she was sure he would have felt the need to strike her down if he had spent more time with her.

"What kind of spirt are you then?" She crossed her arms, if she were a mage the Templars would have struck her down ages ago; she did have a terrible habit of interacting with beings in Fade. It got her more experience even if it was stupid.

"They called me Cole, I am Compassion now. I help people. I'll help you." In a blink of an eye he stood in front of her, and she stumbled back.

"There's no helping me." She leant back against a wall surprised to find it so solid. The wraiths around them didn't react, they were frozen in time reenacting the memories of the time now past. "I might not be dead now, but I will be soon."

Cole was on his hunches now, picking at the ground. Vethari realized that he couldn't stay still. He was always moving, and seemed in thought or like he was listening for something. "The sour notes don't come from down there; they come from in here. Where it listens -"

She quirked a brow, "Where what listens and if that is true then why do the Wardens travel to the deep roads when it's time? Why can I feel it calling to me from the depths."

Cole didn't respond, his gaze was far off, and then he rose, stepping back. Athariel came out of nowhere and yet, it also felt like she had been there the entire time. As she walked up to them, Vethari could feel a hint of shame at her actions before. In the Fade, Athariel's arm was restored, crackling with green magic, and that magic was igniting a feeling of familiarity in Vethari. She couldn't explain it if anyone were to ask her, but she could feel herself drawn to it.

"Thank the gods I found you." Athariel inspected Vethari with an intense look; the amber in her eyes had completely been replaced by that same green. Again, Vethari was being reminded just how powerful the Inquisitor was. She was almost curious to see the woman up close and personal in a fight.

"He's watching." Cole muttered, and Athariel pressed her lips together, looking annoyed. "I know. He's never stopped. Thank you, Cole, for finding her."

The spirit nodded and just like that he was gone, leaving the two of them. Vethari sighed, "I bet you're expecting an apology for my behavior."

Athariel laughed and steadied her "I'll admit, you took me off guard. When I saw you it felt like I was about to meet one of the gods. Your story might have been revised by the Chantry and Ferelden nobility, but the Dalish - we talk. We share and we learn. You think what you managed to do in the Brecilian forest went unnoticed? I'm surprised you sell yourself so short. I mean, you are the Hero of Ferelden, and I'm just the Inquisitor. I barely earned my role. The only reason I was trusted is because I dropped the entirety of Haven on myself. And not without casualties. I was relieved at your outbursts."

Vethari looked at her incredulous, "Relieved?"

"Gods yes! Look at me, I am a whisper of what I was before, because I let myself believe a lie and not a convincing one either. Not to mention I ran away from my responsibilities like a coward and frequented taverns to ignore the nightmares. So many nightmares. I am very much not okay, Vethari, and the worst part of all is? I still don't think I have it in me to confront him again."

Vethari let her gaze flick across Athariel and she realized that she had been correct before. They really were kindred spirits, even if the Inquisitor was nauseatingly helpful and overly empathetic. "For what it's worth, he sounds like a prick."

"Oh, he is."

The awkward pauses were starting to get on Vethari's nerves, but she wasn't sure what to say at this point. Luckily, the Inquisitor was already one step ahead of her.

"Come on. We shouldn't linger here. If we say too much now then the spirits will gossip. So, wake up."

She gasped, sitting up in a medical cot. The light outside was long gone, and the candle by her bedside fought for what little life it had left. Vethari lifted her hand to touch her forehead and stopped short when she realized that it was clasped in Zevran's warm hand. He was resting his head on the side of the bed using a chair to sit in. His breathing was slow, calm. He was asleep.

With her free hand, she brushed his hair from his face and just let herself indulge in his features. Time and time again, he chose her over his own self-preservation. She didn't deserve such unconditional loyalty, nor his patience. How had it ended so poorly, and why did he stay when she was clearly bad for him? He had the right idea when he disappeared for three years. She knew it was to shake the Crows, to protect her. He didn't always talk about what they were capable of, but there were moments when he would talk about undetectable poisons, assassins disguised as lovers—some even kept up the facade for years. Zevran wouldn't do that to her; she was sure of it. But the tiny voice in her head wanted him to. It would hurt a lot less if he just stopped caring.

"Zev?" She said softly and he seemed to stir. Her heart raced, maybe she wasn't ready for him to wake up. He'd confront her about what had happened and she would need to explain. Quietly she maneuvered herself free from his grasp, and despite stirring, he didn't wake up. How exhausted was he? Was it all her doing? He used to be more alert. Vethari stumbled out of the infirmary, passing by some of Leliana's messengers and blindly navigating through the renovated refuge until she halted by a small room where the Inquisitor was sat. Candles were placed all around her, and the air was thick with a strong presence. It didn't seem malevolent, but approaching Athariel felt like pushing through a thickness.

"What are you doing?"

The marked elf's eyes shot open, glowing for a moment before the magic crackling around them disappeared.

"I'm trying to speak to some spirits, but my elvish is lacking in comparison. I'm only getting fragments of what they're trying to tell me. I'm surprised you're up so soon - when we got to you out in the fields, you were gone. I can't imagine the horrors you were reliving."

Vethari worked her jaw, "How'd you do that, pulling me from the Fade?"

Athariel rose and dusted off her pants. She said, "I asked Cole to help find you. He's always lurking about, but I can briefly walk in the Fade. Solas showed me how to tune my magic to it and become lucid and more in control when I'm in there. I'm not a somniari, as the Vints call them, but with the side effects the mark left behind, I've been able to tap into other avenues of my magic."

"Impressive. My last visit to the Fade resulted in a Spirit of Justice possessing a corpse, and before that I found a way to take the shape of other beings."

The Inquisitor's face betrayed a hint of surprise.

"Truly? I didn't hear that story."

"Why would you? It's not really something Templars are eager to recount. Imagine the outcry if people knew the King of Ferelden let a demon almost convince him to stay in its realm. Or that the commander of the Inquisition, a templar knight, couldn't fight off the very things they were trained to protect the common folk from. I don't forget the human who pissed me off. Cullen Rutherford, is a name I won't forget. What did he tell you about me? "

Athariel nodded, "….he's told me only some of what he went through. I think he didn't exactly want to relive everything. He regrets his actions, and has been working to wean the ex-templars off lyruim, like he did, so they can help communities. There was a time, I think, when he found himself unforgivable."

"I'm sure he has undersold what he went through. I mean, I was knee-deep in demon guts by the time we got to the top of that tower. You know how we found him?"

Athariel shook her head.

"He was trapped within this magical bubble, never seen anything like it before. His comrades and friends were dead around him, the place reeked. He reeked. If I had gone to the tower sooner, maybe he wouldn't have suffered the way he did. He was completely and utterly insane, he asked so many times if I was real and you know what I did?"

"No…"

"I pretended to be another demon, you should have seen his face." Vethari grimaced, "It's not my proudest moment. I had been so tired. I fought so many possessed mages and templars on my way there. When I freed him, he begged us to kill every last mage. He wanted the tower cleansed. I didn't let them, mages would have been more useful to me than Templars that can't even kill a few maleficars."

"You don't need to preach to me about impossible choices and rising above." Athariel frowned at her. "As for pretending to be a tormentor, Leliena and Morrigan told me about your tendencies to be on the extreme."

"You can call me cruel, I'm under no illusion about the type of person I am, or how people see me. But having a kid has made Morrigan soft, she's was right there beside me encouraging it you know. I had heard through the grapevine that she weaseled her way into the Inquisition before running off again."

Athariel sighed, smiling. It was filled with sympathy and kindness.

"You need to stop looking at me like that. I don't need pity, sympathy, or empathy. I just want people to see me for who I am." Vethari crossed her arms. "A menace."

"Everyone deserves a chance to look back at their life and go why the fuck did this happen to me - you more than most. I'm not going to pretend as if there isn't abhorrent actions in your past, Vethari, but we can help eachother. Perusing Solas is the key to finding out what half the stuff regarding the Blight, Darkspawn and Fade means." Athariel placed her hand on Vethari's shoulder, and she wanted to squirm away from the touch but instead she relented. It was hard to have hope for her, but she was starting to see why people saw the Inquisitor as a benevolent figurehead. Maybe there was actually a chance.

"Can I ask you something, Athariel?"

"Yes, of course."

"What does it look like now, Denerim's alienage. I haven't been home in years, I don't...the last time I was there it was for my father's funeral."

Athariel dropped her hand. "Mostly rebuilt, I can't say for how it looked before, but life seems to be moving forward. Do you miss it? I tried to head back to my clan for a while, but I felt like I couldn't face them. They don't know."

"That their gods aren't real?"

"It would cause a ripple effect among the Dalish that I'm not sure how to contain. Though I've heard a few clans have mysteriously stopped reporting their locations. I can't imagine some of them just joining up with Fen'Harel like that."

"I don't know, I'm not super religious but if the Maker suddenly rocks up, if take all of it more seriously."

"But would you join a god whose impact on your upbringing has been negative?"

"Is he promising a new life for elves?"

"He thinks he's promising a new life for elves..."

Vethari thought about it, "A few years ago I ran into a sentient darkspawn that called himself the Architect. Much like Corypheus, he could generate his own brand of the Calling. The darkspawn, who he had freed from their mindless slaughter, were - thinking creatures. The were all but more than willing to follow their liberator. Elves, humans...we all want to rally behind something."

"Again, why haven't I heard about this before?"

"Because the only Grey Warden in your ranks was a colossal fraud, and I know Anders wouldn't have been forthcoming to anyone about that time in his life. The more I go over all of this, the clearer it becomes. We need entrance into the deep roads, our starting point is there."

"I had an expedition there a few years ago too. We set up Inquisition camps to further explore it before diverting resources. Do you know what we found?"

Excitement lit up in Athariel's eyes, and it occurred to Vethari that she was definitely someone who always had her nose in a book.

"What?"

"A Titan's heart, and an entire sub-species of dwarves loyal to it."

"Fuck me. This really is going to take us back to the deep roads."

Athariel's face turned grim, "I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize. This is just my luck." Vethari rubbed her face; she felt exhausted, but maybe she should give the Inquisitor a chance.

"I can see why they worship you."

"I really wish they didn't. I should get some sleep. Goodnight, Vethari."

Vethari gave a curt nod, and stepped out. It was good timing because as she reached the infirmary entrance Zevran rushed out, before he looked down at her. There was instant relief on his beautiful face and he picked her up by her waist and embraced her.

She was too tired to fight, so she let herself relax in his arms. Enjoying the rare moment for what it was.