There was, in fact, not a single man goat thing beyond the door at the top of the tower. Instead, near each of the six massive pillars holding up the ceiling, a mage was seated, backs to the pillars, each looking haggard and drawn. In the center of the room, in the middle of an enormous rune inscribed on the floor Ten imagined was of his own creation, sat a middle-aged man in mage's robes, his head bald and his dark eyebrows drawn down closely over closed eyes. The rune itself Ten did not recognize, but imagined must be Tevinter in origin. But most distressingly, the corpses of four templars and four mages, were arranged around him, their heads facing the cardinal and ordinal directions.

"There," said Wynne, pointing, "That's Uldred."

"Yeah, I gathered that. Thanks," said Ten, "You think his parents knew what he'd grow up to be when they named him?"

"Oh, probably," said Wynne, "Rumor has it they were first cousins."

"Close the door behind you," Uldred in the center commanded, opening his eyes slowly and languidly. His voice was high for a man of his years, and raspy. The mages from the archives filed silently in behind their three protectors, and, obligingly, shut the door behind them.

"Maker's breath, you're not supposed to do what he tells you!" Ten shouted.

"I thank you, intruder, for bringing me all that is mine," Uldred said, "It will be that much easier to bind them, now that they're all in one place."

"Alistair, did we just really, really fuck up?" Ten asked.

"We?" Alistair protested, "This was your idea. In fact, I'm going to make sure they bury me instead of burning just so I can have an epitaph that reads, 'this was absolutely, one hundred percent, the fault of Teneira Tabris of Denerim, please find her and burn her house down.'"

"You two really have absolutely no idea what you're doing, do you," Cullen sighed.

"Nary a one," said Ten, "And I'm surprised you just figured that out."

"It's all right!" called Giulia, who had been the one to shut the door, "I'm just used to listening to the masters. Just habit. I'm not demon-possessed. I promise."

"For now," Uldred said, "You'll see, I can offer you - all of your - yes, even you pathetic beings devoid of a true connection to the Fade - power beyond your wildest reckoning."

"You tried that before," Rowena declared, "We told you no once, we'll say it again." She started reciting. Uldred did not react. He did not know of this spell.

The room lurched, two of the mages imprisoned against the pillars began to rise.

"Hey!" Ten shouted, getting Uldred's attention back on her, "Tell me about this power beyond wildest reckoning."

She had caught movement out of the corner of her eye. One of the mages who'd been released from his magical bindings was moving slowly, trying to avoid Uldred noticing him.

"You could have whatever you want," said Uldred, "You don't have to say who you are. You would do well with a… companion in that vessel."

"A companion!" said Ten, "What if I don't like her?"

"What do you mean?"

"What the demon makes me dress like a harlot or something?" Ten said, keeping the newly released mage in her sight and trying to delay Uldred realizing what was happening behind his back, "That would be so embarrassing! Or what if she likes waking up at the crack of dawn to go swimming? Or doesn't like wine? It would really put a damper on my style."

Uldred was thoroughly perplexed. He had not anticipated such an utterly stupid set of questions.

The mage who had been moving slowly in the periphery of Ten's vision started sprinting, and finally drew Uldred's attention. However, to Ten's dismay, he did not make a move against him. Instead, he bolted for the window that had been broken out earlier in the evening and took a flying leap, the eventual splash in the lake announcing that he had, indeed, cleared anything that would kill him outright.

"Fucking coward," Ten muttered.

Uldred chuckled, realizing that she was messing with him, and snapped his fingers. Out of the ceiling, a bolt of lighting shot down, and Ten felt the hair on her arms stand up straight in the instant before it struck her, and all of the muscles in her body seized at once. She could have sworn her heart stopped for several seconds - that's certainly how it felt. But it did start up again, eventually. She didn't know how long she spent on her knees, gasping, but eventually she got ahold of herself and rose doggedly to her feet.

"Offer goes for everyone in this room," Uldred said, "Including you, impertinent little…"

Uldred, muttered something under his breath. The dead templars rose as though lifted by some unseen force by the tops of their heads. She heard Cullen gag beside her.

"You got this, kid," she said softly.

"I am so very angry right now," the young templar said.

"I know."

As though it weren't bad enough for the corpses to have been animated, it was as though each of them burst open. Like there was another sort of creature entirely inhabiting and animating their bodies. A spray of bone and blood issued from each of their heads as a gelatinous, melted-looking thing emerged from each of the corpses. When they stretched out to their full height, they were probably seven or eight feet tall, but, all in all, looked extremely top heavy, well developed shoulders tapering down to legs as slim as reeds.

"What has he done…" Cullen murmured.

"How did he… non-mages don't become abominations," Alistair said, "This is… oh no… this is new."

Ten hefted her ax.

"Well they don't look very sturdy," said Ten, "Go for the ankles." She advanced slowly, low to the ground, fixated on their spindly legs. She ducked and rolled out of the way as one made a grab for her, getting her hatchet into the back of what would have been a calf. The thing toppled, as she had sliced right through it. Pigeon, a reluctant heroine, took that as the signal to charge, bowling two of them over and ripping one's throat out.

The first mage made it to the end of the recitation, and the room rattled. Uldred flinched. The mages who had been seated by the pillars began to rise, slowly.

Uldred cast about, panicked. He uttered something under his breath, and began to change. It was as though he burst out of his own body, swelling before their eyes, his arms, legs, and chest bulging, his face contorting, until he had reached his final form. It had horns, to be sure, but this creature's arms were grossly disproportionate to the rest of it, and as it advanced on them.

"You have got to be kidding me," Ten grumbled.

"Well, it doesn't look just like the other one," Alistair said.

"Yeah, this one's worse!" she exclaimed, "Cullen, fancy getting thrown against a wall?"

"Absolutely not."

"Fuck. Fine," Ten said. She braced herself, planted her feet, kept herself low to the ground. She moved out into the center of the room. Now if I can get out of this one, I will have bragging rights forever. Scales front and back. Not so much in the back. Achilles tendons. It's going to try to scoop me up. It's not very agile. The arms are long but the fingers are narrow.

"Wait, no!" called Alistair, "Andraste's left tit, I didn't think you were actually going to do it!"

If she'd had a hand free, she would have lifted a middle finger in the air, but she did not, and so she ignored him, moved in and, at the last moment, dodged to the left as it made a grab for her. She turned and buried her hatched in its ankle. It howled and collapsed down on one knee. She leapt clear, and then advanced again while it tried to see why its leg would not hold it anymore. She tried to pull the same move she had at Ostagar, sending her dagger into its lower back and stepping up on it to get to his neck, but as she got one foot on the hilt, its great right hand closed around her, squeezing until she felt several ribs break. She stopped struggling, tried to control her breathing, but she could taste blood in the back of her throat and the sound of her pulse in her ears drowned out almost everything else in the room. She could see, vaguely, that it was holding her high in the air, and she was prone, her head directly over its. She could see the outline of Cullen and Alistair moving towards it in her peripheral vision. Well, may as well give them the best chance at it. She spat, and an arc of blood splattered into its both its beady eyes. It dropped her to bring its hands to its eyes. She hit the ground on hands and knees, managing to roll to the periphery of the room, where she she stayed, one arm around herself, trying to get a full breath, but knowing something was dreadfully wrong in there.

"Tell me one of you idiots killed it," she gasped. She coughed again, spitting up more blood.

"Both of us idiots," Cullen called.

Wynne was at her side in a flash, laying two wrinkled hands on her back. She felt the ribs move back where they were supposed to be, and accepted the help back onto her feet. She coughed the rest of the blood - and there was a rather disturbing amount of it - out of her repaired lungs, and took stock of the room. The giant man goat thing was gone, and only Uldred's broken body lay on the floor.

"It's over," Wynne said. She was joined at Ten's side by another elder mage, this one a man in his sixties with a shaggy salt-and-pepper beard.

"That was very brave, child," he said.

"I was dared," said Ten, wiping the blood from her chin, "First Enchanter Irving, yes?"

"That's me," he said, "We'd better get down before Gregoir makes good on his threat. I didn't live this long to be gassed to death in my own home."

"Casualties?" Ten asked. She swiped at her eyes and saw that, indeed, she appeared to be the only one hurt.

"Just you," said Wynne.

"And… well I don't know," called Athmina, who was standing by the broken window, looking out into the dawn twilight, "I don't see a body."

"No, Anders hit the water, I heard it," said Lindrel.

"There's no way he survived that fall," said Athmina, "Some poor fisherman will scoop him out of the lake in a week or so."

"Never liked him anyway," commented Giulia.

The lot of them made their way down the stairs, through the maze of rooms, and back to the base of the tower. On their way they passed a dozen or more dazed templars and mages, not quite understanding what had happened or how long they'd been out of it.

They reached the bottom, and Ten strode up to the heavy door through which she had been thrown earlier in the night, and kicked it thrice with the steel toe of her boot. The sound startled awake the five children, who had been sleeping in a heap in the corner, and their guardians, who had slumped against two pillars.

"Is it over?" the darkhaired elf asked.

"It's over," Wynne assured him.

"What demon has woken me up?!" Gregoir's voice roared from the other side of the door.

"Open this door at once!" Irving shouted.

There was a pause.

"How do I know it's you and not a demon with your voice?" the knight-commander demanded.

"Your middle name is Aloïs," Irving called, "And you hate it."

The sound of the heavy iron deadbolt clattering open echoed from behind the door, and it swung open with a heavy groan.

Ten fully expected to be met with the wrath of the knight commander, but was entirely astonished to see the elder templar's face more worried than angry, and he strode forward and seized up Irving in a bear hug that lifted the First Enchanter clean off the floor. He held him there, long enough for the mages to start looking uncomfortably at each other.

"I'm all right," Irving protested, "Put me down."

"So it is done?" Gregoir asked, obliging, but keeping both hands on either of the smaller man's shoulders.

"It is," said Irving, "And my clever charges managed to find a ritual, deep in the library, that should protect us against further… incursions from the dark side of the Fade."

"And you," Gregoir said, turning to Ten, "I suppose I owe you an apology."

"To be fair, I was being extremely obnoxious," said Ten.

"That… wasn't my fault, was it?" he gestured vaguely at her. She looked down, and saw that she was covered in her own blood from what she had coughed up after the giant man goat thing had sent several shards of rib into her lungs. Wynne had fixed the damage, but the aftermath was gruesome indeed.

"No Ser," she said, "Came by this one honestly."

"I'm a man of my word, so you've earned the support of the Circle," said Gregoir, "Though it looks like my own ranks are looking a little slim. The mages will join you with my blessing. Are we square?"

"Not yet. I need enough mages to get into the Fade, at Redcliff Castle, as soon as they can make it there. How many would be required for that?"

"What's the purpose?" asked Irving.

"Kid's got a demon," said Ten, "We're trying to avoid having to… you know. How many are needed?"

"That is something we can handle. I think four of us would do," said Irving.

"There's not room on the boat for that many," said Ten, "Can you travel the long way around?"

"I'll escort them," volunteered Cullen, "I need to… I need to get out of here. For awhile."

"And where, exactly, were you when all of this happened?" Gregoir asked, narrowing his eyes at the young templar.

"With all due respect, Knight Commander," Cullen said, his voice quiet, but strong, "The rest of your men were held in thrall or outright killed. The only reason I survived is that I resisted the blood mages, as hard as they tried to get in my head."

"It's true," Alistair said, "He's a stubborn one."

"Wait… I recognize you," said Gregoir, "Before, I was too fixated on putting that one in her place, but I've definitely seen you before."

"Me? I have no idea what you're talking about. I just have one of those faces," he said.

"Oh, wait," said Gregoir, "You're the knicker nabber. Freak you are. Well you're in good company if you're taking orders from her."

Ten attempted to hold back a laugh but only managed to snort horribly.

"I am not taking orders from her," Alistair protested.

"And I suppose the two of you will slay the archdemon by dropping ice cubes down the back of its neck and pelting it with handfuls of manure. Though, if you managed to get rid of the evil that has slain most of my men, I owe you at least that much respect."

"Wait," said Ten, "Before we get out of your hair, I have one more favor to call due."

"And what is that, oh mighty Grey Warden?"

"Get those kids some dogs. Not like giant evil dogs like mine. Little nice dogs. It's bad enough being away from everyone you know. Not letting them have dogs is just cruel."

To her surprise, Gregoir didn't react negatively. "It would make the place less grim."

"Great," said Ten, "Now we're square."

"Good," he said, "Because I never want to lay eyes on either of you two clowns again."

"Oh trust me, the feeling is mutual," said Ten, "Farewell, Aloïs."

"Get the fuck out of my tower."

Ten obeyed, pushing open the doors and walking out into the sunrise.

"So I'm coming with you," said Wynne, who had followed them out, putting her hand on Ten's shoulder.

"Are you now?" asked Ten, "Surely the little ones can't get by without their nanna."

"Oh they can," said Wynne, "What this has reminded me of is… how set in my ways I had become. Every day is a story I've read a thousand times before. I used to be sent on all sorts of missions, you know. Watching you improvise, put together the puzzle with pieces you didn't really understand… I miss that."

"Well you're obviously welcome," said Alistair, "Are you all right sleeping in a tent, though?"

"And keeping company with an apostate? A Qunari? A radical nun?" Ten added.

"Wouldn't be the strangest set I've ever belonged to," said Wynne, "And please, I was sleeping on the ground before either of you were twinkles in your parents' eyes. Strangely, I miss that as well."

"You're about to have a lot of it," said Ten, "But far be it from me to make your decisions for you."

"Splendid!" Wynne exclaimed, "I'll speak with Irving and accompany the delegation to Redcliff. I take it I can meet you there?"

"Absolutely," said Ten, "And thank you."

Ten turned in time to see the old woman cut a caper of delight, clicking her heels in the air, as she went back in to seek leave. She smiled in spite of herself, and walked to the supply dock, crouching and scooping up the waters of the lake to rinse the dried blood from her face and neck.

"That water is disgusting," said Alistair, "You're going to get an infection."

"I grew up swimming in the Drakon River right by the harbor," said Ten, "I'm pretty sure I'm immune to anything Lake Calenhad has to offer." Pigeon decided to interpret this loosely, and jumped in to have a swim. She climbed slowly back up the bank. She knew that she would live, but she couldn't shake the feeling of her ribs cracking, of not being able to draw breath.

"So that was really sad, Ten," he said.

"What, the baby mages with no puppies?" asked Ten. She seated herself back on the bank and faced the rising sun, willing it to rise a little faster and ease the chill in her bones that had not left since she felt her body break in a demon's fist.

"No. In the Fade."

"I didn't see you in the Fade," she said, "It was just a demon." She found a flask of moonshine that she'd lifted off a refugee's wagon, uncorked it, and took a swig.

"Well I saw you," he said.

She could see, on the far shore of the lake, the ketch Jeannie Carter docked. In the distance, she saw men scurrying around the deck. It wouldn't be too long until Murdock and his men returned to collect them.

"What did you see?" she asked cautiously. Secrets I'd rather keep, I imagine.

"You were standing at a stall. Trying to sell me a potion that'd keep me up. You looked different. You were different."

"Oh shit, that was you?" she asked, "Thought it was my own mind trying to get me away from the demon. Well this is embarrassing."

"Well you shouldn't be embarrassed," Alistair said, "It was just very... sad."

"What, now you've caught a glimpse of my secret sorrows and now you pity the poor widow?" she asked, only a little sarcastically.

"Oh I don't know. I knew, intellectually so to speak, what had happened to you. I knew you were the girl from the murder ballad, the bride who sought revenge, and all that. But it was just a story, I'd never actually thought about what it all meant for you. What you'd lost."

"Did you just now come to the realization that other people have feelings?" she asked.

"Well, no, but you're just so... I didn't think you would... it was just really sad, all right?" he said, shaking his head.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do here," she said, "But the only reason I've kept my wits about me is that I put that hurt in with all other hurts, bottled them up, and am hoping I simply pass away before I have to face them. All this talk is the opposite of that." She drained the flask in one go to drive home her point.

"That's probably not healthy."

"What's it going to do, kill me before my time?"

"Fair."

"Anyway, what about you, what weakness did the demon find in you?" she asked, genuinely curious, "Or is it... not appropriate. If that's the case please keep it to yourself."

"Get your mind out of the gutter," he said.

"It's not my mind I'm worried about," she countered.

"Well you needn't worry about mine either," he said, "It was about my sister, if you must know."

"You probably have about a dozen sisters," said Ten, "And now I really hope this is not going where I initially feared."

"It's not. Stop it. I have this one sister," he said, "On my mother's side. I know of her, but I've never met her. It put me with some imagination of her. Actually, it's rather thanks to you that I realized I was being duped."

"How could I have possibly helped with that?"

"Well all I really know about her is that she was sent to her father's family in Denerim shortly after I was born. Meaning she grew up there. And in the Fade, the demon impersonating her sounded… wrong. Sometime between her putting the kettle on and taking a pie out of the oven, I realized something was missing. She's working class, she's from Denerim, so by rights she should have this horrible, obnoxious accent, and here she was talking like a Chantry scholar."

"You know, more people in this country talk like me than talk like you," Ten chuckled, "But you're welcome, I guess."

"It's actually rather growing on me," he said, "Say 'squirrel.'"

"Why?"

"Because the way you pronounce it is hilarious."

"No."

"Come on."

"Fuck off."

"Please?"

"Fine," she said. She whistled through her teeth. Pigeon came up on the bank, waiting for a command. Only too late did Alistair realize what she was doing, as she shouted, "Squirrel!"