MEIRA

"We'll rest here for the night," Cullen directed as we reached a clearing.

It was obvious that it had been used once before for a large camp. Now, only a few tents remained along with some Inquisition soldiers. They saluted as Cullen dismounted. A chill wind blew through the clearing, causing my hair to stand on end as something pricked at the back of my mind. I dismounted to find Ghilani at my feet, silver eyes on me and a whine slipping out.

"What is it?" I questioned.

She simply looked at me, nosing my hand. I stroked her fur and as I did, I felt a strange sensation emanating from her. My brow furrowed. It was like when Solas and I had been training, he having me use Ghilani as a target within the Fade. I reached out towards the sensation and felt my mind being pulled across the Veil. As I was, I saw through Ghilani's eyes. Brief flashes full of snow, sorrow and fear. A broken body lay upon the ground, nearly unrecognizable except for the moon white hair.

That's me, isn't it? I was mutilated. Limbs at wrong angles; the snow beneath me, crimson. Cullen hunched over me, tears upon his face as his lips moved with a whisper. Screams rent the air as others hoisted me up. My screams. I watched as I nearly died. Solana's desperation. Cullen's fear. Witnessed as Solas and the spirits helped bring me back. Just as suddenly, I was back in my own body and mind, blinking as I met Ghilani's eyes. I pet her reassuringly.

"I understand," I breathed, "Thank you."

With that, she trotted off to hunt. I looked around the clearing with new eyes as I understood this was the initial camp after Haven was attacked. Where I had nearly died. Where so much had been lost, but then found. I felt Cullen's eyes on me and I met them. There was concern there, but I shook my head and mouthed the word "later". He gave a curt nod and went about directing the soldiers to set up a larger camp and guard rotations. I turned to the Battalion and directed the same.

"Mages, see to fires and then wards. Templar archers, join the soldiers and find us some food. The rest, see to tents," I directed.

Salutes swept through them before they set to work. I led Mouse over to the other horses and helped complete the rope pen they would stay in before removing her saddle and my supplies. Brushing her down before looking after Cullen's horse as well.

"Thank you, Lieutenant-Commander," an elven soldier saluted who looked slightly worried, "but I can take it from here. Commander'll have my hide otherwise."

"Happy to be of help," I assured before gesturing to Cullen's saddle. "Carry the Commander's saddle to his tent and you'll have nothing to worry about."

"Thank you, my lady," he dipped his head.

Carrying my own saddle and supplies, I headed into the now mostly assembled camp. Fires crackled, water was being boiled and I heard laughter as I watched a few soldiers, Amelia, Laren and Barris return to camp, a doe slung across his shoulders. I looked for a spot to set up my tent only to find my saddle being plucked from my hands.

"You're going to be with me," Solana ordered, "There's enough room for both of us and if I don't snatch you up now, you'll be by Cullen and he'll keep you all to himself." She looked over her shoulder at me, her blonde braid slipping off of it to fall down her back. "You need to be amongst the Battalion. We've missed our Commander."

I flushed at her words, embarrassment and doubt flaring. "I'm sorry."

She blinked and stopped, turning to me. "You've nothing to apologize for, Talitha. Everything you have done that has taken you away from us has been important." She sighed, brown eyes rolling. "Besides, it took your absence to get us—to get me—to realize how horribly we were failing. But your soldiers need you now, not as their leader alone, but to get to know who you are." Her gaze flicked to Cullen where he stood amongst the soldiers who'd been posted here getting updated as to recent movements. "While he's still held in high respect in the eyes of his soldiers, they see him for the man that he is. As for you, you are some immortal being of legend to your soldiers for whom they hold a near reverent fear. They need to see Talitha the mortal."

I swallowed hard. How do I make them see something that even I doubt exists? I shoved the thought away. I have not lost myself. Not in that cell. Not in that temple. And not now. "Lead the way."

…

"And you've no idea what kind of magic it was, Lieu?" Rion questioned, fascination on his face, his food forgotten.

Apparently, the Battalion getting to know "Talitha the mortal" meant me recounting tale after tale of my adventures. They'd wanted to know how Ellana and I made it out of Haven. About my dreamer magic. Where I'd obtained my magical armor. About the Winter Palace. Anything I was willing to share. We all sat around a crackling fire, one far too small for the whole of the Battalion which now sat either upon logs or furs or the ground in rapt attention directed at me. I'd used my magic to form a bubble of sorts around us to keep us all warm as the night had grown cool.

It still amazed me to see mages and templars sitting together, at perfect ease. Joking and teasing each other, even a few flirtatious looks passing without fear of repercussion. Such a contrast to how things had begun prior to the Conclave's destruction. Mages and templars separated, glaring at each other with hatred.

Cullen had talked of hosting the Conclave. Had expressed the desire to be part of it; for me to speak at it. He saw a future full of hope. Full of change. And where he had once doubted his right to have a hand in shaping that future, he now sought the chance to help lay the groundwork. Bit by bit, I was seeing him step into the man I had always known he could be—the man he was always meant to be—and I knew, much the same as myself, he had to go through all he had in order to become him. In the Battalion, I too saw hope.

I shook my head. "It was a mixture of ancient Tevene and ancient Elven magic it seems, but what had made it so long lasting were the demons. Trapped in decaying mortal bodies. They were held to a vow that only someone like me could fulfill." I'd found truth in the temple at the Oasis, peace, but now…I found myself doubting at every turn once more.

"Someone like you?" Barris questioned.

Unease pooled. I saw my shadow self as Pride had pulled her from me. The darkness in her eyes. Felt her whispering behind the door. They did not need to know the whole of it. "A dreamer."

"Are dreamers truly so rare?" Henry questioned.

"Rarer than a templar without a sword up his jacksie, Trevelyan," Rion joked, causing the others to laugh.

"What about mages, Rion? To find one without his staff rammed so far up there is next to impossible." I'd come to learn that Rion was from Ostwick's Circle Tower which was also where Henry Trevelyan had been assigned before the War had broken out. The two had known each other and been cordial. Rion had expressed he was happy to learn one of the few decent Templars he'd known in his life had survived.

"No wonder we all walk so funny then," Rion shrugged, "Except Lieu here. Never seen a finer walk…or rump." I flushed red. Rion laughed as he winked at me. "Ah, pay no attention to me, Lieu. Just know any male here would happily march behind such a Maker-blessed bum if only to stare at it a little longer."

"Pretty sure that's why most of Cullen's soldiers follow him," Solana chimed in, "Who wouldn't follow that?"

"And to think Lieu here has probably touched it," Belinda sighed dreamily.

"Who do you think has the finest rump amongst our leaders, Rion?" Barris questioned his tone completely serious despite the ridiculous nature of the question, taking me by total surprise.

"Oh, that is a tough one," Rion grumbled, "but obviously the Inquisitor. Why else would we all follow her?"

"Because she's a good leader?" Asaala questioned, a smirk pulling her mouth.

"Because she's blessed by Andraste Herself?" Amelia chimed in.

"Because she has the Anchor." Laren spoke, her voice matter-of-fact.

I was glad that the newly made templars were joining us this time. For in Asaala, Amelia and Laren it seemed the other templars found a renewing of pride in their vows. In them, they saw an opportunity for a new cause for the Order. What it would be, how it would take shape, I did not yet know, but I prayed they would find their way.

Prayed that perhaps Cullen could even help steer them. For though he resisted their desire for his leadership, guidance and counsel, I felt that it was something he needed. He needed to help shape the templars' futures even more than he needed to help the mages. Both for their sakes and his own. I believed it would bring him closure to do so; to feel that he could truly leave that part of himself behind if he could help them restore their honor and find a new purpose.

Rion shook his head. "All noble answers, but lies."

Laughter broke out. I shook my head. "This is how you all talk of us?"

Several eyes looked at me. Solana chuckled. "How else do we keep you humble? Or mortal in our eyes?"

"Meaning?"

"If we didn't joke about you, you'd all be too big for your breeches," Rion clarified, "Or we'd be too afraid of you because you're all doing the impossible."

"Be that as it may," Cullen's voice cut in, "I'd prefer if you didn't speak of the Lieutenant-Commander's hindquarters." There was anger in his eyes as he stared them all down, his arms crossed over his chest. "Or mine, for that matter."

Rion stood and stretched. "Can't make any promises, Commander. But these tired bones need sleep. 'Night all."

The rest followed suit, except for Solana who stood to face Cullen, hands on her hips.

Cullen arched a brow at her, his perfect mouth twisting down in a frown. "What reprimand am I to hear now?"

"Just that Talitha is bunking with me. So, tell her goodnight."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Very well." His gaze met mine and his face softened. "Sleep well."

"And you," I breathed, "I'll be by your side."

His eyes turned molten, but he said nothing, simply nodding before shooting Solana a glare. She stuck her tongue out at him before he turned to head for his own tent.

I followed Solana, the both of us readying for bed before settling into our bedrolls. I turned to her, casting a mage light to float upon the air. "So, how did your missions go?"

…

"Are you ever going to tell me what actually happened in that temple?" Solana questioned as I had been fighting sleep. "I could tell you were holding a lot back when you were recounting it to the Battalion."

I startled a little at her question. "It…it's too painful, Sol. Some of it, anyway." I told her what I could bear to tell her, my shadow whispering to me as I did. "In truth," I began before sighing heavily, "In truth, Sol, what happened in there...What I became…even though I know it is what I am meant to be. To do. I…it terrifies me, Sol. It terrified me when Deshanna described my abilities to me. But when I actually used those powers…" I looked at my hands. "And then again when I helped Cullen. Even though I know I helped him…it's terrifying."

She propped her jaw on a fist as she looked at me, buttery-blond hair loose from its usual braid and pooling on her bedroll. Her dark eyes were intense as they met mine. I looked away, tears pricking my eyes. Her other hand came to rest on my shoulder. "Why?"

"I can't help but feel…that no one should have the power I do, Sol. Even without the armor."

"Did you feel that way when you first came out of the temple? After helping Cullen?"

I met her gaze. "Does that matter?"

"It matters."

I rested my chin on my arms that were folded beneath me, watching the mage light as it bobbed around. The answer came and I wondered if it were the right one. "No."

"Then, why do you feel that way now?"

My lips twitched. "Reflection."

She chuckled. "I think you mean overthinking."

"Perhaps," I sighed.

"And what did I tell you when we were kids?" She raised a brow at me in challenge.

"That the Maker created me with magic," I said to her just as much as to myself.

"But now we can be even more specific," Solana corrected, "He created you with this form of magic. To be a dreamer with all the abilities you have. He allowed all that has happened to you in order that you alone could wield the armor you now have. Would you have that power in the hands of anyone else? Could you imagine what someone who did not have your faith, your heart, would do with such power? What Corypheus would do?"

I shuddered as that image of me in the future Ellana had seen with Dorian flashed through my mind. "But if I fell to possession—"

"You didn't while at the mercy of Alrik," Solana challenged, "Why would you now?"

I let out a sigh. I had so much more to lose now. My shadow whispered angrily. I would not give in. "You're right."

She tugged on my hair. "You know, the mages of the Battalion often talk about what we would do with such power. What it must feel like. Do you know what all of us have concluded? We would not trust ourselves with such power. Not even me."

I looked at her, brows raised. "You? But you've always been so confident in your magic?"

She shook her head. "Half of that confidence stems from knowing my limits. What I can handle. I know myself well enough to understand I would abuse such power." She looked out the tent flap, her face more stoic than I had ever seen it. "That through me…only destruction would come."

"Sol," I began, but she shook her head.

"No, Meira," she met my eyes again, "I am glad that it is you. You are too noble, too selfless, too caring to abuse what you have been given. Why else do you think you were chosen? Why else do you think you had to go through all you did? It is what shaped you. Prepared you for this moment. You had to be broken in order to be strong enough to bear it all. To bear the armor. To bear the responsibility of the power you have." Tears swam in her coffee eyes. "I am just sorry that I was part of that breaking. For abandoning you. For failing before when you entrusted me with the Battalion. For failing you so many times." She looked away, shame on her face. "I am…I have never been as strong as you."

"Solana," I started to get up, but she pressed on my shoulder, her eyes intense.

"Meira," she began, "I…"

I waited for her to finish, but she didn't. Her eyes looked at me intently, as if begging me to understand what she was trying to tell me without her having to speak the words. "What is it?"

She closed her mouth. Her lips twisted into a smirk before she shook her head, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Nothing. I've been drippy enough as it is." She laid down and turned away from me. "It's going to be a long day tomorrow. We should get some sleep."

I studied her back for a time, hoping she would change her mind and tell me whatever it had been she was going to say, but she didn't. So, I slipped into the Fade.

…

"Purpose," I greeted the spirit.

"Meira," he inclined his head, gold eyes shining. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Why am I struggling again?" I questioned.

He looked at me. "Why do you think?"

I clenched my jaw before pulling us into my part of the Fade. I stood us before the door. Darkness was leaching out around it, vining across the stones of the cell. I could feel her behind it. Pride had broken the seal Deshanna had placed upon it, rendering her sacrifice to be one made in vain. But I had thrown her back inside, sealing it myself and that seal seemed to hold. Or had been holding. Now, it seemed to be cracking. Literally, as I looked at the stones surrounding the door, cracks were spiderwebbing across them.

"It's what she is, isn't it?" I whispered.

"What is she?" Purpose questioned. I clamped my lips together. I didn't want to voice it. I'd known from the moment Pride pulled her from me. In truth, I knew I'd understood from the very beginning, but to admit it… "What is she, Meira?" Purpose asked again, his voice gentle.

"Doubt," I breathed.

I heard her howling with laughter behind the door. "You've known all along, haven't you?"

I glared at her through the door. "Yes."

She cackled. "You've known all along but didn't have the guts to face me. Why is that, little Meira? Afraid of the truth?"

I looked to Purpose. His eyes were gentle. Behind him, the other spirits appeared. Serenity, a Spirit of Peace or Demon of Hunger. A Spirit of Perseverance or Demon of Sloth. Ardor, a Spirit of Love or Demon of Rage. Charity, a Spirit of Compassion or Demon of Envy. A Spirit of Joy or Demon of Despair. Intent, a Spirit of Purpose or Demon of Desire. Prudence, a Spirit of Wisdom or Demon of Pride. To Purpose's left stood Embrace, a Spirit of Grace or Demon of Shame. To his right, Faith.

What would faith become when corrupted?

Her fire eyes met mine. "What must be corrupted to give way to doubt?"

"Is that what she is?" I questioned them. "Did I—have I lost my faith?" I looked away from them, shame filling me. "Have I been lying to myself all this time? Trying to convince myself of something, knowing all along—"

I felt a hand on my cheek, warmth in it like a gentle fire. "No, Meira." I looked into the eyes of Faith. "You're so close. Don't let her win. It's not faith that you lost. For if it were, you would not have been able to call me to you."

"Then what?" I begged. I felt as if I were missing something obvious. I heard her laughing beyond the door. As if sheknew. Just as I knew what she was, she knew what I was missing.

"What did you lose in that cell?" Purpose questioned.

Desperation rose in me. "Why can't you just tell me?!" My voice was pleading, sadness flicking across their features. Frustration on Purpose's face. "Why will you not guide me? Is that not your purpose?" I shouted at Purpose in particular. "HELP ME!" When they said nothing, I screamed in rage and despair. I summoned a sword of shadow and attacked the door. It cracked. "I hate you!"

"Meira," Purpose murmured.

I swung the sword at him, his own meeting it. I bared my teeth at him. "I hate you, too."

"Meira, don't. Don't do this." His face fell, his form flickering. I noticed they were all flickering. Their corrupted versions fighting to be free. "Not when you're this close."

"Prudence said I can't be rid of her and wield the armor. Not without blood magic," I spit. "What does it matter anyway?! I can't be free of her! Not yet! Not until I see this through." I laughed, the sound coming dangerously close to madness. "That is what you all tell me. But do you want to know what I think? I think you all know, that she—that demon, that thing—could possess me fully at any moment. Like when I tried to help Cullen against Shame without knowing its other nature. Until Cullen faced it. I nearly lost myself. She nearly took over. Just as she would if I tried to face her now. I aman abomination, but you all are keeping her in check. Just as Purpose has been doing all along." Their eyes became averted, except Purpose, his gold eyes burning. My breathing became ragged. I felt the Fade shifting around us, their forms flickering more intensely, their corrupted selves lingering. "It's the truth, isn't it?!" They remained silent. "TELL ME!" My voice was her voice.

Purpose wrapped his arms around me. I howled screams, thrashing in his arms, sobs tearing from me. "Meira."

"No!" I screamed.

"Meira, please," he murmured.

"NO! I won't listen to you anymore! You won't help me! You're not helping me! You're failing, Purpose!"

"MEIRA!" He shouted, his voice commanding. "BE SILENT!"

I began sobbing. "Why can't I just…conquer this?!"

"You are right, Meira, she is a demon. In part. But not wholly. You have to face her in order to be free of her. You have kept her behind the door instead of facing her." His arms tightened around me. "But you can't face her until you know what she is. Until you understand it fully."

"Why?" I cried.

"Because she is the embodiment of what you lost in that cell," he explained, "To face her now when you are still so lost, you would succumb to what she would wield against you. You must have something to keep you whole. Something to cling to. What is the opposite of doubt? Of your doubt?"

"I don't know!"

"You do! You do, Meira!"

I shook my head, fighting against him again. "No!"

"What would cause Doubt to come about? Like Cullen's Shame? His Shame gave way to a Spirit of Acceptance—that is what Embrace is. Acceptance! It's what he needed to do. To find. Acceptance! Forgiveness! Grace! He had to accept what happened so he could move on. So he can find his new—his true—purpose. So he could continue to persevere!" He turned me to him, grasping my shoulders. He shook me. His gold eyes burning, his perfected version of Cullen's face fierce. "What is it that you need to find? That you lost? That you are afraid of?"

Doubt roared beyond the door. Sounding like a great beast within. Like the dragon I had battled all those months ago in the temple. She was the dragon, I realized. Not me. I was the halla. She a beast of rage; of hatred; of darkness. She was made of ice. Void of anything. What did you lose in that cell?

What did I lose? What do I need to find? What am I afraid of?

I heard a howl. But not Doubt's. Not mine. Purpose released me and I blinked. Before me sat…

"Ghilani?"

It was her spirit, brilliant in the darkness. Her eyes like silver stars as they met mine. Once she had my attention, she stood and turned. As she moved, she became akin to a mage light. Instinctively, I followed. I felt Purpose at my side, but ignored him. Ghilani's pace quickened and I hastened to catch up with her. As we approached wherever she was leading me, I heard the sounds of fighting. Cullen.

We arrived to find him facing down Shades. For I had left him alone in his nightmares too long. And in so doing, Shades came for the feast that his mind laid before them. Though Shame was gone and Embrace protected him, something had caused a crack in his defenses.

Embrace appeared beside me. "You cannot lose yourself and expect me to remain. It is you who gave me form." I met her eyes. "Yes, I am Acceptance. But Acceptance can only be found through perseverance. Through purpose." There was anger in her face. "We are all tied to you now, Meira. If you fall, so do we." She looked to Cullen. "He is restored. He only needs time to heal. But your journey is not over yet. You must continue to endure."

"I'm sorry."

"Do not apologize. You are mortal. To fail is to be mortal. Such a burden has been placed upon you." Purpose placed a hand on my shoulder. Embrace on the other. "But you can do this."

"Don't forget what it is you can do as a dreamer," Purpose reminded, "What you are meant to do."

I watched Cullen as he fought. Where there had once been fear, now there was determination on his face. He met his nightmares bravely. My lion, proud and strong. No longer cowed by Shame. No longer bound by lyrium. He shone bright and golden, like a flame amidst the darkness, burning brighter and brighter as he devoured it. I had helped release him from the chains that had held him. My magic. And he had thanked me for it. He who had once been scarred by magic. Made to fear it. Twisted against it. He'd thanked me for it. I raced for him, cutting down Shades in my wake. Coming to stand next to him, I felt his resolve calling me to my own.

"Meira," he panted.

"Forgive me for taking so long."

"It's alright, love," he spoke as he cut down another Shade, "You're here now."

We fought side by side, just as we had done every night since freeing him of Shame's prison. As echoes of his nightmares, his memories, faded with the last of the Shades, a thought came to me. "Cullen?"

He sheathed his sword, his honey eyes meeting mine. "Yes?"

"Have you ever heard of a demon of doubt?"

His brow furrowed. "Doubt?"

"Did the Order ever mention them?"

He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes going unfocused as he thought. "Whenever doubt was spoken of amongst the Order it was in the abstract. Usually as a shaming tactic. To doubt our calling, our orders, our superiors was wrong. It was to doubt the Maker and the Chantry. But it was never discussed as if it could be…given form."

I clenched my jaw. "If you had to guess, what type of demon would you think would embody doubt? Pride?" For that is what Scorn claimed I struggled with. It was Scorn who'd pulled her from me.

He thought for a moment. His face filled with anger as an answer came to him. His mouth opened to voice it, but as it did, everything went black.

"Cullen?" I called, but there was no answer.

No answer except my own voice echoing. The sound of water dripping, running down stones. My skin crawled as I felt something watching me. Sensed something moving within the dark. Lips pressed against my ear as bony hands seized my arms. A cold so biting in their grasp, I was frozen in place. A single word whispered, the sound akin to a death rattle, the smell of its breath like carrion.

"Run."

…

I jerked awake, gasping for air, my skin slick with sweat as my heart pounded in my chest. I looked around the tent, Solana sleeping soundly next to me. While my elven eyes could see far better in the dark than a human, there were shadows along the canvas and in the corners. The shadows seemed to breathe, to watch, the longer I looked at them. An unnatural coldness bleeding across the ground from them as they stretched out to devour me. Panicking, I lit a mage light and the darkness scattered.

Solana began to stir, mumbling. I placed a hand on her shoulder. "Go back to sleep."

So as to not disturb her further, I left the tent. Dawn was close, the air already warming as I stepped outside. But I could not escape the chill that clung to me. 'Run'. I shivered, goose flesh erupting across my skin. I had recognized the voice. It was mine. Something writhed within my gut at the realization. At the realization of what she was. The writhing spread from my gut, up my chest and under my skin. The sensation like a thousand insects trying to claw their way out of my flesh. I ran. I didn't know what else to do. Throwing myself into the trees nearby. I stumbled on roots, felt my skin scratched by low hanging limbs, the squish of wet earth beneath my feet.

'What did you lose in that cell'? 'You've known all along, haven't you'?

But fear rose up to choke me. Yes, I knew what she was now. Yet, I did not know what I had lost. What I needed to find. Again I had the sensation that I was missing something obvious. The answer on the tip of my tongue, but my mind kept drawing blanks. If she were Doubt…what had been corrupted in me? I forced myself to stop. To stop running. Running was my problem. I needed to start facing this, to think it through.

Looking around, I found myself surrounded by trees, but before me was a small stream. I followed it for a time, finding a tranquil spot where the water ran over smooth rocks, the sound calming. Perching upon a rock, I pulled out the small sketchbook from within my cloak and began drawing. Page after page, I drew. Drew everything I had witnessed and experienced in the Fade. The door. The temple. All the spirits I had befriended. Cullen. Shame. Embrace.

I flipped to another blank page. Setting aside the fear, I pondered what I had felt before that voice had whispered to me. I had called her Doubt. Why? As I mulled it over, I drew absentmindedly. Why doubt? I knew I struggled with such an emotion, but what would be at the root of such a demon? Was it pride as Scorn had claimed? I let out a growl of agitation before swiping my hand across the sketch. I blinked. At first glance, the page seemed to simply be filled with charcoal. Black. But the harder I looked, despite the smear, I could make out something within the darkness. It was hunched, skeletal, the darkness both clinging to it and emanating from it. No eyes could be seen, only felt. No eyes, but a wide mouth. A smile. The skin pulled back in a grotesque grin. The grin of a predator that had finally found its prey.

"It seems we had the same idea," Cullen's voice spoke and I nearly fell off the rock.

I slammed the sketchbook closed. I felt his warmth at my back, his legs coming alongside mine as his arms slid around my waist. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of my neck before resting his chin upon my shoulder. Steadily, his heat seeped through my layers, his heady smell causing me to relax as I sank into his embrace.

"What idea was that?" I murmured when I'd finally calmed.

"A walk and some solitude."

My lips twitched. "I needed a reprieve from Solana's snoring. As to solitude…" I took the edges of his surcoat and wrapped myself in it. "I don't think this is the accepted definition, but I like it."

I felt the rumble of his breathy chuckle in his chest. "As do I."

We sat in silence for a time, listening to the water and the songbirds as they welcomed the dawn. I would feel Cullen's arms tighten around me every so often, a gentle kiss pressed.

"Talk to me, love," he finally whispered, "Something is bothering you."

"Ghilani showed me what happened here," I answered.

"Showed you?"

"Dreamer mage, remember?" I teased.

"How could I forget?" He chuckled. "But that is not what is bothering you. Not really." I tensed at his words, but he merely held me closer. "Talk to me, Meira."

Doubt clawed at me. I opened my mouth several times to tell him, each time losing the words as that doubt only grew. What would he think of me? I shoved it away. I had to stop running. "Shame was your battle. It seems Doubt is to be mine."

"Doubt?"

"I asked you last night as we fought against your nightmares if you'd ever heard of such a demon," I began, hoping he would remember whatever his answer had been, "You seemed to have an answer, but before you could tell me it—" Fear dripped down my spine. "You never finished."

"I have never heard of such a demon, love," he confessed.

"But—" I heard her laugh reverberate in my mind. Of course. It had been her, mocking me again. "Flames," I swore.

He pressed a kiss below my ear. "How did you defeat Shame? All the demons in that temple? You've described your abilities as being able to will upon others what you want them to see. Is it like that?"

"In a way," I answered, my voice clinical, "But it is less willing upon them what I want them to see and more what I want them to be. But I cannot draw that from nothing. I will upon them their other nature. Something that is already there; it's just been corrupted. I draw out their virtuous self. There is an established truth there, a substance to draw from to make the change have permanence." I thought of the image I had drawn, my hand smeared through it. The charcoal seemed to have bled onto the blank page next to it. What had been white, clean, was dirtied. Foul and corrupt. "I do not know what its other nature would be. What is the antithesis of doubt?"

He was silent for a time. "Do you know why I chose you to lead the Battalion?"

I hesitated and then shook my head. "No, Cullen, I honestly don't. There are so many other mages that would have been better options. Bethany. Rion. Vivienne, even."

"No, love," he challenged, "It is not merit or talent alone that such a responsibility earns. Requires."

"Leliana said it was because you trusted me," I murmured, "but how could you trust me with something so important knowing how…broken I am?"

"Why did Cassandra trust me to lead the Inquisition's army knowing how miserably I had failed?" He retorted. "How unworthy?"

"I hate it when a question is answered with a question," I grumbled.

"It is because of your struggles that I chose you," he continued, ignoring my comment, "You understand the precarious nature of magic. You understand the need for accountability. You are humble and cautious when it comes to magic while simultaneously understanding that you cannot be afraid of it. For to be afraid of it is to allow it to become twisted. To let it control you instead of the other way around. But aside from all of that, you also do not dismiss templars. You sought to give them a second chance. You want true change just as much as I do. And in the Battalion, through your leadership, they have all found purpose—a determination to right the wrongs of their forebears."

Tears pricked at my eyes. "But I fear this thing, Cullen. What if it—"

"Did you fear Shame before you entered my mind to help me?"

"No. I had to help you. And I knew I could."

He took my hand out from his surcoat and kissed the back of it. "Then have the same assurance for yourself, love."

I chuckled, darkly. "You make it sound so easy."

"I think you're overthinking," he challenged.

I sighed. "Solana said the same thing." I watched the water, curling further into Cullen. "I just…we know so little of dreamer mages. Their abilities. Strengths and weaknesses. Feynriel and Solas are the only others I know that exist. I don't know if our abilities are even the same. I can't ask Feynriel and Solas is about as forthcoming with information about himself as a rock. No, I take that back, I think I've actually met some rocks that are more candid."

Cullen laughed. "Have you asked him, beloved? I mean really asked him?"

I grumbled. "No." I crossed my arms over my chest. "He's trained me, sure, but no I haven't asked him about his own abilities. How I would go about confronting this thing within me. What would happen if I were to fail. I'm not sure he'd even give me a straight answer, if he would even know. It's not like it would matter. I know how he feels about the Fade's inhabitants. He'd probably go into some elaborate diatribe as to the idiocy of the Circle only for me to realize at the end, after he's conveniently irritated me enough to cause me to forget what I was even asking him in the first place, that he never gave me an actual answer." I let out an agitated noise. "You cannot begin to understand how long those days were as we travelled to the Oasis. How Ellana broke through that shell is beyond me. How she had the patience to do so."

"He's enigmatic to be sure," he agreed, "but I sense that he is more like the Fade's inhabitants than we realize. He thinks as they do because he spends so much time among them, studying them and the Fade. That is why I suggest seeking him out for advice. And though I know he irritates you, don't forget that were it not for him…we'd still be in this clearing and you…I wouldn't be holding you and laughing about him."

I turned to look at him. "I'm sorry."

His face was soft, a gentle smile on his lips. He kissed my nose. "You've nothing to apologize for, beloved. Everything that happened following Haven…it was needed. For all of us. I found you. And now I hold you in my arms. I just pray I never have to do so again in order to keep you alive." I leaned my head against his chest, listening to the strong thuds of his heart. "Did I ever tell you what your mother said to me? Before I found you?"

"No," I shook my head. He was changing the subject, knowing I needed to talk of something else.

He told me of Ma's kindness and how she had treated him; that it had brought back thoughts of his own mother. There was sadness in his voice. Longing.

"I sought them out before we left," I murmured, "to say goodbye."

"You did?"

"I…was hesitant at first. Surprised by the want to do so, but…it was just Ma and Da. It was a start."

"I cannot claim to know how you feel about it all, love. It was I who hurt my family, not the other way around. But know that I am here for you."

"I know, Cullen. And that is of more comfort than you realize." I sighed. "But I cannot deny that things between my family and I…have gone far better than I had imagined they would."

He held me tighter. "I'm glad."

"But I cannot shake the doubt that, in the end, I will still be hurt."

"And I cannot deny that I doubt myself," he breathed, "that I will not fail again. But I hope you do not doubt this. Doubt us."

I turned fully to him at those words, hooking my legs overtop his thighs. My shadow whispered, hissing that I should, but I knew the truth.

"No, Cullen," I vowed, "Maybe before. But not now." I looked away, heaving out a breath. "Like you, I doubt myself more than anything."

He gently turned me to look at him, holding my chin as he held my gaze. "Don't."

"Take your own advice, Commander," I teased, causing his lips to twitch though his eyes remained sad. I hugged him then, his arms holding me as close as possible in response. "I love you."

"And I love you," he breathed. We held each other for a time until he sighed heavily. "We best get going. We've Haven to go through and a few days ahead of us before we meet up with Scout Harding. She's to rendezvous with the Avvar."

"Not Movran?"

Cullen shook his head. "No. Something about breaking an oath if he crossed into the Basin."

He took my hand as we walked towards the camp and I had a thought as I studied his profile. He'd said we would pass through Haven. "How bad is it?"

His eyes met mine, a dark brow quirking. "How bad is what?"

"Haven."

His mouth tightened. "Haven is lost. Nothing remains. However, the Marquis DuRellion made a request of our Lady Ambassador that a monument be commissioned. I sent soldiers to help with excavation and construction while Josephine found the money—this was shortly after we'd found Skyhold. We've done our best to make it commemorative of not only the Divine and the Conclave, but…of all those we lost."

Minaeve. "Is there…does Minaeve have a grave?"

He looked away. "She confided in Asaala that were she to perish, she wanted to be given the same rites as all the Inquisition members. A pyre. Though we could not find them all, we had a ceremonial one. Every name of those that gave their lives or lost their lives are etched upon the monument." His fingers tightened against mine. "I hope you find it honors her."

I leaned against his arm. "She would've just been embarrassed by it."

"I'm sure you miss her," he murmured.

Tears pricked my eyes. "I do."

"We'll pay our respects once we reach Haven," he stated, "Properly."

Those tears burned. "I'd like that."

He leaned to press a kiss on my cheek before we were in eyesight of the camp. "It is past time I told her thank you. Not only for bringing us together, but also for her brave stand before the Chantry." I looked up at him and watched his jaw clench. "To tell them all thank you."

I stood a little straighter, squaring my shoulders. "Soon, we may bring them the best thanks that we can."

He nodded, understanding. "Samson."

…

It was an odd sensation as we rode towards Haven. A part of my mind and even body knowing I had been along the same path before. Ellana's broken sobs and voice raging at the howling wind in our native tongue echoed in my ears. Her desperation as she dragged me along. It had been the catalyst she needed to accept the mantle designed for her. While she doubted that any of this was "fate" of the Creators, I was just as certain as I had ever been that this was the Maker's purpose for her. That He had spared her from the destruction at the Temple so that she could lead the Inquisition; that we—and by extension our family—could be reunited and perhaps even reconciled; and now it seemed He may have even intended her and the Inquisition to set to rights so many wrongs within Thedas.

As we approached the mouth of the mine where Ellana had found our escape, soldiers standing guard saluted Cullen before approaching us. Cullen had informed me that in the initial days after we'd found Skyhold and the Chargers had investigated the remains of Haven, he'd sent a contingent of soldiers to set up a posting within the mine. While the surface of Haven was lost, that did not mean that the Inquisition had to lose a means of spying upon the enemy should they remain. Some of Leliana's people were within the tunnels, more having been discovered as time was found to excavate.

Above, Haven appeared as no more than ruins, as he had said. The snow removed and a statue erected, but below within its bowels the Inquisition was as alive as ever. Few knew the extent of it and Cullen had sent word ahead that the majority of those posted needed to make themselves scarce to make the posting seem far less vital than it had become. He would not make the same mistakes again. None of them would. Spies were inevitable, we'd already learned that much in Elizabeth Trevelyan.

We would camp within the tunnels for the day before pressing on again to the Basin once night fell. We were forbidden from going up to the surface in any large group in case Corypheus had eyes watching the area. From Haven on, we would have to travel only at night in order to move with any secrecy. As an added measure, I would cloak us with the Fade to keep us hidden. It was imperative we kept ourselves secret. Not only to protect the Avvar, but to arrive in Sahrnia without our enemy being the wiser.

The waiting was agonizing, but I spent the time socializing with the Battalion. I learned more about Kirkwall and Knight-Commander Meredith from Alain and other mages who'd come from The Gallows. Learned of Ostwick from Rion and his fellows. A few mages had even come from Kinloch Hold and I thanked the Maker that I was unrecognizable to them for fear that I would be found out. I did my best to answer their questions, trying to be as honest and forthcoming as my false identity allowed. Cullen spent the time meeting with his troops, getting updates and selecting those of whom had traveled with us that would stay at Haven and who would continue on with us to the Basin.

During a meal break, I noticed as Solana nodded her head towards something behind me. I turned to find Cullen, Inquisition uniforms and cloaks in his hands. He indicated for me to follow. Dressing and pulling the hoods of our cloaks over our heads, he led me up to the surface of Haven. The sun was just beginning to set as we climbed out of the mine. Where the village had once been was no more than mountaintop. But within what I estimated to have been the village's center now stood a massive statue.

It was not yet completed, but seemed to be close. The statue at first appearance seemed to be of Ellana herself. As I studied it closer, however, the statue seemed to change. The being was elven and a regal leader one moment, human and mundane soldier the next. A staff, sword or bow in their hand at one angle or a flag bearing the Inquisition's heraldry. The shining sun of the Chantry wreathing their head, horns like that of a qunari, or the flames of Visus surrounding their helmet. The statue itself was carved of marble; gold comprising the armor pieces, flames and accents. At the base, etched upon polished obsidian, were dozens upon dozens of names. Above the names read an inscription:

Bare your blade
And raise it high
Stand your ground
The dawn will come

In dedication to all those who stood that the night would not stretch on forever. Rest now in glory.

"The Inquisitor wanted it to represent us all," Cullen murmured as I scanned the names, "I will admit the craftsmanship is of incredible quality. How one can carve something out of stone that seems almost alive is quite mesmerizing."

"It's beautiful," I agreed as I found her. My fingers followed the letters of her name. "It's perfect."

He came to stand next to me and placed a hand upon the statue. Closing his eyes, he began to recite the Prayer for the Despairing. I followed his lead, my palm against Minaeve's name. The sun continued to fall beneath the horizon as we prayed over those we'd lost in both thanks and to beseech the Maker on their behalf.

"Draw your last breath, my friends," Cullen began to conclude, "Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky. Rest at the Maker's right hand, and be forgiven." He straightened, a sigh of long-suffering slipping through his lips. "Maker, how many times am I to say that prayer in my life? How many more am I to lose?"

I took his hand and squeezed it. "They knew what they were fighting for."

He met my eyes. "I know. Like you said, bringing down Samson—and his master—is our best way to thank them." He squeezed my hand and turned me towards him. "That is why, Lieutenant-Commander, you can no longer live in this shadow of doubt where your magic and your role is concerned."

"Cullen—"

"I am your Commander, Lieutenant," he spoke, his voice in the tone he used with his soldiers. I looked at him in surprise. He never used this voice on me when we were in private. His face was serious as I met his eyes.

"Commander," I saluted.

"I understand your hesitation. A reverent fear for magic, for your magic especially, is not a bad thing. So long as it keeps you within the boundaries of respect for it, but not crossing into a paralytic fear. You must use what you have been given whenever the need calls for it. Without hesitation. To hesitate is to fail your Battalion. To hesitate is to put them in danger. To put yourself in danger. The Battalion is counting on you. The Inquisition is counting on you. I am counting on you. Am I wrong to do so? Was I wrong to make you Lieutenant-Commander? To lead the Battalion?"

Anger sparked in my gut at his words. At his challenge. I lifted my chin. Defiance and certainty silencing the doubt. "No."

He studied my face, his unreadable. "Prove it to me, Lieutenant."

I placed a fist on my chest in a salute to him. "Yes, Commander."

"Do you swear to lead and defend the Battalion?"

"I swear."

"Do you swear to protect the Inquisitor and her people?"

"I swear."

"Do you swear to use your abilities, both Maker-given and mortally honed, to protect the vulnerable and the innocent? As you did all those months ago here?"

"I swear."

He placed a fist on his own chest. "Nothing has changed, Meira. And everything has changed. Your magic is your own. Given to you by the Maker for you alone to command it." Maker, I love him. "I have faith in you. It is time you had faith in yourself."

"Commander," I nodded before grabbing him by the shirt and crashing my lips against his.

"This is insubordination, soldier," he growled, though there was humor in it.

"Shhh," I shushed him with another kiss.

It was well into the night before we returned to the tunnels below.

…

"Welcome to the Basin," Lead Scout Lace Harding greeted as I revealed Cullen and I, "Commander. Lieutenant-Commander."

The dwarven woman seemed worried, her red brow knit, pulling on the constellation of freckles that decorated her face. Her green eyes kept flicking all around us, surrounded as we were by dense forest. Cullen had explained that most Fereldans, especially those who lived in the shadow of the Basin, held superstitious notions about the place. It was feared for few who ever came here returned. Lace Harding was a born and raised Fereldan who'd most likely grown up with the same stories that Cullen had about the Avvar and their Alamarri ancestors.

Kinloch Hold had once belonged to an Avvar tribe, long before it became the Circle. A few tomes on the Avvar and Alamarri had sat within the Circle's library, though few had ever read them. Not quite as exciting as the tomes on magic or as entertaining as the fiction serials often chosen instead. But as a Tranquil, when I had been tasked with cataloguing and organizing the shelves, I had read them.

The Alamarri had crossed the Frostbacks to escape what was only ever referred to as a "shadow goddess". No further information could ever be found and the scholars that had studied the Alamarri people—in pursuit of further knowledge about Andraste who'd descended from them—concluded it was most likely a natural disaster of some sort and the Alamarri referred to it as a "goddess" due to their superstitious culture. The Avvar came from the Alamarri tribes that had settled near Lake Calenhad, separating under the leadership of Tyrdda Bright-Axe and returning to the Frostbacks after a dispute with another tribe. Through Tyrdda, the Avvar formed alliances with the dwarves and together they built Kinloch Hold and Vigil's Keep during the reign of Tevinter. Kinloch Hold became the home of the mages and Vigil's Keep that of the Grey Wardens when Avvar power waned.

Withdrawing to the mountains and scattered across Ferelden, the Avvar became relatively shrouded in mystery. Through our alliance with Movran, we'd become privy to more knowledge about them. We had been briefed on what we would need to know in a War Room meeting prior to our departure, I now curious to meet these tribesmen. They reminded me of the Dalish to some extent; a reclusive people that worshipped a pantheon who despised those outside their culture but relied upon them for survival. Their culture seemed both simple and complex, the hierarchy of the tribes making for smooth governance. But what intrigued me most was their views on magic. It would take witnessing it firsthand for me to fully understand it.

"What's wrong, Harding?" Cullen questioned, his voice low and tense as his hand went to his sword.

"Movran said they would send a representative of sorts to meet us," Harding stated, her hand on her bow which was notched with an arrow, "We've been here for two days. No one has come."

"We were assessing what sort of people you were," a strangely accented voice spoke from within the trees, "For we've been walking in step with your hunting party for a few days now. And observing you, lady dwarf." The owner of the voice stepped forward. "We've no unfriendly eyes upon us. Reveal yourselves."

Harding turned toward the voice, bow raising slightly. "You first," she demanded.

As she did, towering warriors bedecked in furs and swirls of war paint bled out of the forest itself. Everything about them was meant to make them blend with the trees, the perfect camouflage. Weapons drawn, though not bared, we found ourselves surrounded.

"How have you followed us?" Cullen questioned. "We have been hidden."

"You are not the only ones with whom the spirits are friends. Nor the only ones among whom magic walks."

Cullen clenched his jaw, but nodded at me. With a sigh of relief, I released my hold upon the Fade and revealed the whole of our party. The Avvarian scanned our people before nodding his head. I seized the Fade once more and hid the troops.

"We friends of Movran greet you," the Avvar uttered before the call of a bird sounded.

Most of the warriors melted back amongst the trees, disappearing within the trunks and foliage. A small group remained, the leader of which waved for us to follow. There was something eerie about the woods and the people at whose mercy we were now subject. I saw Cullen's hand tighten upon his sword. Our eyes met before he squared his shoulders and strode to Harding's side. Letting out a breath, I made my way forward.

Getting closer to unraveling the mystery of what haunts Meira! Can our girl hold on until then?

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