Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon age or A song of ice and fire

Trigger warning for implied rape, this story is rated M for a reason but there's only so much detail a person should write.

Anyway onto the update, hope everyone enjoys it

The Phoenix and the Griffin

Chapter 30: The god of many faces

Throughout his life Zevran had seen looks of shock pass through his target's faces before they died. None of them expected to die, it led to him believing that no one truly expects their own death. There was one face however that stuck with him, a weeping face. He had seen people cry and beg before, and he hadn't been particularly bothered by these pleas before.

He wasn't bothered by Rinna's pleas.

"Why, why are you doing this?" she asked.

"You know why we're doing this, did you think it escaped anyone's notice, you've spoken with the Rosso Noche," Taliesen said.

"About potential contracts, Eoman wanted me to speak with them," she stated.

"Really? Come on Rinna, we know what you are, whose bastard you are," Taliesen said.

"That's just it, I am a bastard, and half elf-blooded bastard, what right would I ever have to the throne?" she asked.

She was surprised then, shocked by her own admission. Then she shook her head and let her tears fall, they had lied and acted through many jobs but Zevran had never seen her cry.

"I don't want the throne, that isn't the reason I'm working with the Rosso Noche, you know me, you know my ambitions you both do," she explained.

"It is a shame, I think I might have loved you Rinna," Taliesen said.

"That makes one of us, it was just another fuck, that's all," Zevran spoke for the first time.

The look of betrayal stuck with him, the gasp that came out of her mouth stuck with him when he slid a knife through her chest. He didn't cry, why cry for a traitor to the crows, she really meant nothing to him, he told himself that again and again. No official contract had been given out, so they left her body to scavengers and returned to Eoman Arainai. The man sat with his boots on the table in their safe house, counting the coin he made from a job. There was a roll of parchment next to his feet, the seal was broken and was probably the cause of Eoman's jolly expression.

"Boys," he said, calling for them to come to him.

Taliesen and Zevran stood in front of their master, keeping their faces confused and ignorant if he was to ever ask about Rinna.

"A shame about Rinnala, she was a good assassin," he said.

"She was master Eoman, but she would have been ill suited as a queen," Zevran bluntly said.

"That's if she ever had interest in being a queen, who knew her status as a bastard would actually come in handy, well done you two," the older man said.

He took his feet off of the table and picked up his dagger, walking up to both men.

"I'm the one that spread rumours amongst the Antivan court about Prince Estefan's bastard daughter being amongst our ranks. These rumours reached the Rosso Noche, and Prince Claudio made an offer to me, one that insures I will become grandmaster, her death served me more than her life could, well done to both of you for making it obvious it was us that killed her," he explained, patting them both on their shoulders.

Zevran froze for longer than Taliesen did, the old man left them alone and Zevran leant against the table for support. His old lover looked at him with a confused expression, but recognised the signs of grief in Zevran's eyes, as well as the restrained anger.

"You said that she…"

"I made a mistake, but you heard what Eoman said, this is good for House Araini, good for us," Taliesen interrupted Zevran who raised his head and looked at him furiously.

"He doesn't give a shit about us, that's why he told us the truth, to remind us of just how little we're worth," he said.

"Of course he did, he has no sentimental love for us, but we can be useful, that doesn't mean we don't care about each other," Taliesen said, shuffling forward and touching Zevran's shoulders. "It's sad, unforgivable what we have done to Rinna, but we granted her a quicker and painless death and that is more than any other crow would have done, we stick together and…

"Don't," Zevran pushed him back, sending Taliesen against the wall.

His old friend and lover had a hurt expression on his face. Whether it was for what Zevran had done, or some other guilt he had, Zevran didn't care to know. He walked out of the room and spoke to Taliesen rarely after that. To Taliesen's credit he made up for Zevran's lack of focus in future missions and covered for him. Though it wasn't enough for Zevran to hear him out anymore regarding what happened to Rinna, it had happened, there was nothing more to do.

Nothing more to do except take a contract for two grey wardens in Ferelden.

There was smoke through the tunnel, a result of the explosion Daylen had managed to conjure. Zevran coughed, moving his hand to wave the smoke aside. He reached around for Daylen and grabbed a shoulder, bringing his knife up for an attack.

"Finally come to take my life huh?" Daylen asked.

He looked at the mages face, no seam, not that peeling a person's face off was an easy effort. His wrist was bleeding, blood dripping across the floor.

"What happened?" Zevran asked.

"He was trying to take you out first, so I used a field to protect my arm so that I could protect you," Daylen said.

"Stupid, on both accounts, you should have let him kill me so that you could then kill him," Zevran said.

"Don't know a man wanted to kill you though, maybe a man takes shots about the way he speaks personally," Daylen grinned.

"A man can go and fuck himself; did you at least catch him in the flames?" Zevran asked.

"A man has no idea, a man wasn't able to concentrate through the rush, a man is sorry," Daylen said.

Zevran chuckled slightly, rubbing his sore leg. Daylen took a poultice from his bag as well as one of his injury kits, giving it to the assassin. Zevran poured half of the poultice on his wound and the other half over Daylen's cut.

"You need to keep pressure on it, keep the blood from flowing out of the wound or you could bleed to death," he advised him, tearing off a roll of bandages and wrapping them around Daylen's wrist.

They began to walk forward through the tunnel, looking for any trace of the faceless man. There was still a great deal of dust around them, no doubt he was also recovering. When rocks fell from the ceiling both stood their ground, waiting for the danger to come to them. But other than that there was still a silence around them, no footsteps and just their breathing. Zevran took another knife from his belt and took a deep breath, and stopped breathing. There was only Daylen's heavy breaths and another in the dark crooks of the tunnel. He threw two knives either side of the tunnel and another directly into one of the crooks. There was a clink of metal and he pointed at where he had thrown his knife.

"THERE NOW!" he yelled.

Daylen prepared another fire ball, using its light to illuminate the cavern. The faceless man was there, covered in soot, his neck partly burned, breaking off a bit of his mask. But he was still standing, preparing a bolt of electricity. In his other hand though was a shimmer of green light. The electricity and the fire collided, shaking the tunnel again. Then the faceless man threw his next spell, creating a swarm of green flies. Daylen pulled Zevran back and began to twirl his staff around, between his fingers and around his shoulders. Both ends of the staff were letting off a cold steam. He was hitting the flies with cold air, an arc of ice that turned them into shards to scatter to the floor.

The faceless man tried to create another rune on the floor, but Daylen had slammed his staff down, creating icicles around him, forming an uneven surface that disrupted the runes shape. Zevran threw two of his knives, one hitting the assassin's hand and another would have hit his eye if he hadn't moved. Fighting through the pain, the faceless man pulled the knife out of his hand and used the blood to create a dagger. He ran at his targets and used an aura of death.

Colour drained from both their faces, but still they didn't give up. Gathering their strength they advanced on the faceless man. Zevran snapped off one of the icicles and brandished it like a dagger. The faceless man ducked underneath his thrust and tried to slash him. Daylen though caught the blade with his staff, only to be kicked back by the assassin. Zevran and the faceless man clashed blades again and again, ducking and weaving, aiming their knives to try and strike their target. Eyes, armpits, neck, neither could make a strike. Zevran was finally able to slash off the fingers of the man's right hand. But the faceless man head butted him and grabbed him by the neck.

Zevran began to feel weaker and weaker, the effects of a life draining spell. He was always curious what something like that would look like, what the feeling of being drained to a husk would be like. But such a death still required time, and Daylen had left on the floor quite effective weapons. The flies he had frozen and turned into sharp crystals. Just as the faceless man began to relax, Zevran grabbed one of the crystals and dragged it across the man's wrist. Then he shoved the faceless man forward.

There was a great bellow of rage and Daylen ran forward, slamming his hand into the assassin's face. Flames appeared around his hands, and the elf mask began to melt. Finally, with the smell of cooked flesh filling the air, a man screamed in agony. Daylen pulled his hand back and watched the man writhing across the floor, clawing with half empty hands at the burnt mask now fused on top of his face.

"What does a man have to say now?" Zevran asked.

A scream was his only reply.

Daylen moved in to finish the assassin off, when an object dropped to the floor.

"DAY!" Zevran yelled.

Smoke filled the tunnel and Zevran ran to the last place Daylen stood. Crossing the distance, he tackled the warden and moved through the smoke. They caught sight of the assassin fleeing on something's back. It was a white skinned creature with four arms, one lanky pair of arms that stuck out of its shoulders and two short arms that formed on its belly. The demon's hands and feet were red and its body curved as it bent onto all fours. With the assassin on its back, it bent its head around and revealed its razor sharp, chattering teeth underneath a red cracked face. It screamed in the faceless man's voice before scurrying down the tunnel.

"That's something you don't see every day, even in Antiva," Zevran muttered.

"Are you all right?" Daylen asked.

"I should be asking you that question; you're getting slower, sluggish, you tried to hide it but I notice the way your hands shake, you push yourself too hard and there may come a day that you break," Zevran explained.

Daylen frowned, not disagreeing but still taking the critique personally. He began to walk back down the tunnel, following the cold feeling on his skin, and hoping it was air.

"Who will you be able to save once you've collapsed?" he stopped when he heard Zevran's question. "Because that is what is going to happen if you keep pushing yourself to the front, you're a mage Daylen, not a warrior, there's no shame in fighting the way a mage should."

"You sound like Sten," Daylen huffed.

"So do you," Zevrn retorted.

"We sound nothing alike," Daylen threw his arms up and Zevran laughed.

"Somewhat alike if you close your eyes," he said.

They walked along the ruins and continued towards the light.

Robb was shaking, his hairs pointing out on edge. The very forest seemed different to him, the entire colour was gone and it seemed closer. He looked at the snarling bear; he could see her muscles at work, preparing to strike. He couldn't escape the howl that came out of his mouth, nor fight the urge to fight. The beasts rushed towards one another, Robb was faster, but it was a problem for him. He moved his claws to strike, but missed his target. The bear bit into his leg and Robb howled, hearing a bone pop. It was almost as if he could feel the pain more, maybe that was why some humans could fight werewolves one on one. But he was not just any man; he was a Stark of the north. He dragged his claws across the bear's sides, tearing into her fur. She recoiled, letting go of his leg and bashing him with her paw. The bear went onto her hind legs and tackled Robb. He dug his claws into her back as they rolled across the forest, crushing bushes and flowers. Robb kept digging his claws in, cutting through the thick fur and fat. But when the bear went for his throat with her jaws, he quickly ripped his claws aside and grabbed both ends of the jaw. He wrestled her to the ground again, slamming his foot against her belly and pulling on her jaws.

'Break damn you, break, break, BREAK!' he wanted to roar.

Instead he snarled and howled until the bear rolled, taking Robb with her. She slashed his chest with her claws when he suddenly snapped his jaws over her neck. Then Robb ripped them back, biting her throat and taking a chunk of it. Instead of spitting the meat out, he ate it, watching the Bear thrash on the floor helpless. He snarled, his head snapping towards where he heard a wailing sound. Robb's eyes narrowed and his jaw salivated, looking at his next source of food, the surviving bear cubs. But then he stopped, looking at his clawed hands and then feeling his face.

"Seven hells," he spoke in a voice far too deep to be his.

He collapsed against a tree, feeling his body and screaming in horror. Then he ran, sprinting as hard as he could through the bushes. He could smell the shit in the air, the blood in the wind, every flower was putrid and every smell of fur and flesh smelt tempting. He tripped, rolling into the shallow end of a lake. When the water cleared he saw the face of his family crest and looked away in shame.

'So hungry, I ate not long before we entered the forest, damn it, I'm so hungry,' he howled and snarled in frustration, gripping his head.

The thoughts that were running through his mind, the thoughts of feasting and hunting, they were not the thoughts of a human man. He tried to remember his siblings, but all he could think was 'humans bad, kill, eat, infect,' and then he howled in rage and grief again. It was all he could do to stay in the lake and not dunk his head in the water. But then he felt that perhaps that was for the best, he had to die if he was to keep his loved ones safe, better to die a man than live a monster, it was the only honourable option he had left.

'Fuck honour, what's it going to get you? Just feed, eat, rip and tear, spread this gift of strength and rage…no, that's not me,' he thought. "IT ISN'T ME!" he screamed.

Everything went quiet for Robb after that, he sniffed at the air and detected an eerie scent. He could only describe it as unnatural, as if it didn't belong in the world and was neither pleasant nor unpleasant. His pupils narrowed and fur tensed, looking through the forest. There was a white wolf looking at him, silent like a ghost. He blinked and in place of the white wolf there was instead a woman. Robb thought woman, she had the body of a woman, flowing hair and naked breasts. But her feet were like roots shifting through the ground, her hands like the branches of a tree.

'Demon,' Robb snarled and let the beastly rage take hold.

This was the creature that had cursed him, that had filled him with such a great hunger and rage. So he let it take hold, let the foam flow out of his mouth, let his claws out of his paws and howled. He broke off into a run across the forest, jaws snapping, his path aimed for the lady of the forest. Again he saw the white wolf before it was replaced by her eerily beautiful form.

'Not woman,' he corrected himself, 'just food,' he drew closer and closer to the woman and jumped for her.

He was going to sink his teeth into her neck, rip her apart and end the nightmare, he was nearly there, he was…

"Calm yourself Robb Stark!"

Her voice echoed in his mind and he landed in front of her, her hand stroking his neck gently with his teeth inches from her neck. She cooed like a mother caring for her child, her eyes were black yet shining with sadness and her lips curled down in sympathy.

"You're right, this rage is not your own," she touched his hand, wrapping her vine like fingers around it. "You have done well to fight it Stark, it comes from your blood, but now you must see, you must see the truth Robb Stark," she said.

She placed his hand on the tree beside them and Robb's body suddenly felt numb. His eyes turned white and he looked up at the sky.

Swiftrunner was what the werewolf introduced himself as. He still snarled but very much appeared calmer than the other cursed creature's around him. His warning about the demon had to go unanswered as he led the man woman and their dog through the forest.

"The barrier was lifted to save another," he remarked, looking over his shoulder at Leliana and Jon.

"Zathrian's clan called you beasts, why did you attack them if that isn't so?" Jon asked.

"What we did, we did for vengeance, to make the keeper understand the pain he has forced upon us," Switfrunner said.

"Forced upon you? Are you saying that Zathrian was the one who created the werewolf curse?" Leliana asked.

"Created it and gleefully unleashed it on us, many ages ago," Swiftrunner's voice became almost gentle and regretful as he spoke. "He was keeper of a Dalish clan, but his people were attacked by a group of humans. These men slaughtered Zathrian's clan and did worse to his family, to his child, in his fury Zathrian unleashed this curse on them and they spread it. Though those whom wronged Zathrian are long dead, our suffering, our curse lives on," the wolf lowered his head before snarling. "Unless we rip him to shreds!"

"You wanted to kill Zathrian but what about his clan? They didn't deserve to suffer because of him," Jon said.

"You know nothing boy, justice has a cost," Swiftrunner said.

"It isn't justice, where are you taking us, is this all just a game to draw us to a better location to feast?" Leliana asked.

"The lady of the forest wishes to see you, we do her bidding because she freed us from the rage," Swiftrunner said.

"Not quite enough it seems," Leliana commented.

They stopped when they reached the entrance to a cavern, again leading into the underground elven ruin. Jon tensed, feeling more wolves jump down behind him.

"What about our friends?" he asked.

"Whatever hunts them has nothing to do with us boy, wait here if you wish for your companions but take into account this mercy. The lady of the forest wishes to settle this without bloodshed, that is more than what I and Zathrian both desired," Swiftrunner explained.

Alpha whined softly and looked between Jon and the werewolf. Twigs snapped in the distance and Leliana and Jon turned, ready for a fight. There was a scream and a clang of metal, followed by someone being thrown out of the bushes. Theon landed on his back, looking up in terror along with Jon as something walked out of the bushes.

"The tree, the tree is talking," Theon stuttered.

"I am a tree, but not a tree, the old oak tree is what I am, and which one of you took my branch?" the gigantic sylvan asked.

The possessed tree looked down at the humans and werewolves, huffing as he removed Theon's sword from his arm. He flicked the weapon at Theon, stabbing it into the ground between the Greyjoy's legs, and far too close for his comfort.

"The lady of the forest has business with them old oak, leave us," Swiftrunner commanded.

"You do not tell me, I tell you," the tree hummed. "Lots and lots of demons about, watch yourselves, for something envious is about!"

The tree turned and began walking away through the ruins. Jon went to help Theon up, pulling the sword from the ground too.

"What happened Theon, where is Robb?" he asked.

The colour further drained from Theon's face as he looked at the Stark bastard.

"It was horrible, his, his body it…" the Greyjoy stuttered, unable to finish, his hands shaking as he dragged them over his face.

"What have you done?" Jon demanded, pointing the sword at Swiftrunner.

The other werewolves snarled and some even went to all fours at Jon's show of aggression. Swiftrunner however remained passive, turned to look Jon in the eyes.

"Zathrian's curse has taken him as well now," he said.

Jon lowered the blade, his hands shaking as Leliana rubbed his shoulder.

"There is more to this story isn't there, we need to find the others and then discover the truth, for Robb's sake as well," she stated and Jon weakly nodded.

They looked out into the forest, wondering what could have happened to their companions.

Elsewhere Zevran and Daylen continued their trek through the ruins seemingly uninterrupted. They soon discovered why, finding the corpses of giant spiders and freshly crushed reanimated skeletons. When they got deeper into the tunnel they saw another battle taking place between dwarf, qunari and spiders. Oghren smashed his axe repeatedly into a twitching spider, backing away in near exhaustion as Sten wiped blood onto his wrist armour.

"About time someone familiar showed up," Oghren commented.

"You both have fresh injuries; did the elf fail to kill you again?" Sten asked.

"We ran into another assassin, the mage who separated us," Daylen said.

"I still say this is him," Oghren shrugged.

"Zevran's proved himself, at least for now," Daylen said and Zevran threw his arms up.

"Well now you're deciding to be smart about this," he said.

Daylen wordlessly led them forward through the tunnel, down twisting and winding corridors until they reached a circular chamber, likely another training ground. A familiar blonde haired man welcomed them, smiling in relief as he approached.

"Thank the maker, I thought I was done for, have any of you seen the others?" Alistair asked as he approached.

Daylen was about to say something when he looked over Alistair's shoulder. It was Alistair, running towards them with his shield raised. The other Alistair turned just as the warden reached him. Shield slammed into a body, combined with the wielder's weight and momentum, the blow sent 'Alistair' flying past Daylen and into the middle of the group.

"That isn't me," Alistair said.

"No mask so it could be…" Zevran's voice drifted as the Alistair mimic stood up.

"KATARA BAS!" Sten yelled, swinging his sword at the mimic.

Its hand shifted, becoming claws that blocked Sten's blade.

"Envy demon," Alistair identified the creature, charging past Daylen.

The envy demon turned, knocking Sten and Alistair into one another. Oghren blocked the creature's claws with his axe, only to be kicked back. The demon turned into Sten swinging his now heavier arms at Zevran, whom ducked out of the way. Zevran nicked the creature's hip with his knife and jumped back to avoid the counter strike. A mana blast hit the demon, followed by a fireball that made it scream, patting out the flames and lunging at Zevran. The demons body shrunk, becoming Zevran himself, rolling with the assassin across the floor. Both got up and grappled with one another, Zevran's knife had been left behind in the struggle.

"Oh shit, you've got to be joking," Alistair said.

"Parshaara, kill them both," Sten said.

"Yes, you may have to," one of the Zevrans said.

"Wait, no, that's stupid," the other Zevran backed away as the remaining quarter closed in on them.

Alistair looked to Daylen, who sighed slightly; once again it was his decision. He raised his staff, lingering between both elves.

"Envy demons can look into a person's memory, so you'll have to pick a pretty convincing argument for me to decide which one is which," Daylen explained.

"Use your flames on us both Daylen, I will hold nothing against you if you do," one of the Zevran's said.

Daylen looked between them, their clothes were identical, their ears and even their facial tattoos. Which left other features, both were favouring their legs, the Envy demon, whichever one it was had even mimicked the wounds and bandages. Fire glowed through Daylen's hand as the Zevran on the left shifted. Both elves looked between one another.

"Kill him!" they both said together.

"No kill him!"

"Kill him!"

"Kill hiiiim!"

"No him, him, kill him."

"I'm telling you it's him."

"No it is him, kill him."

Both pointed and yelled at the other in an almost childlike fashion before Daylen slammed his staff into the ground.

"Please tell me you got to envy demons in your training," Daylen looked over at Alistair who shook his head. "Damn it, okay then I suppose killing you both is all there is left to it."

He aimed the palm of his hand to his left and his staff to the right, fire in a hand and ice through the staff. Both Zevrans widened their eyes in surprise.

"Unless one of you can come up with a reason for me to trust you, then this is the only way isn't it?" Daylen asked.

"Wait Daylen," the Zevran on the right said whilst the other lowered his hands. "Before I left for Ferelden, I carried out a job for the crows, it was against someone I loved very much. I killed her, she was innocent and I killed her, after I had done it I realised that the crows didn't care about me. All I had ever been to them was a tool, I felt so ashamed of myself that I wanted to die, which is why I took the contract from Loghain, why I surrendered to you so easily, I wanted to die," he explained.

There was sadness in his eyes, guilt, a contrast to the mask that he always showed Daylen. Which was why Daylen aimed both his hand and staff at the right Zevran, whom widened his eyes in shock.

"We've gotten a bit closer, but not so close that you would reveal that deep dark secret to me," the mage said.

"And if you're wrong?" 'Zevran' asked.

"I don't care," Daylen said.

"Damn you, you fucking…you really are a cold hearted bastard aren't you," 'Zevran's' voice changed and his jaw became white with razor sharp red teeth.

"I lied," Daylen said.

He froze the demon's leg to the ground, and released a fire bolt that blasted off the demon's hand.

"But thanks for making it easier for me," Daylen said as he stuck an icicle through the demon's chest.

It roared, revealing its faceless form and contorting body. Alistair drew his sword, the blade shining slightly as he passed a smite through it. He swung through the demon's neck, beheading it and making its body crumble to pieces. Zevran let out a sigh of relief, putting a hand to his chest as Daylen kicked at the demon's ashes.

"Damn, now that was cold, and much more like it," Zevran said good naturedly.

He tried to smile, but none of the other four smiled and instead looked at him differently. The elf shook his head, rubbing the back of it sheepishly and shifting uncomfortably.

"Well I thought this would happen at some point, don't give me all that sympathy," he said.

"I don't, you're still an assassin," Sten said.

"Yeah I'm not one to talk but I still think you're pretty despicable," Oghren huffed.

"The maker does preach of forgiveness," Alistair looked away as he spoke, sheathing his sword.

"It isn't up to any of us to decide what kind of man Zevran is, although that character did help me with seeing through the demon's disguise," Daylen stated.

"You think so little of how I regard you?" Zevran asked.

"There are something's people don't even share with their friends, and when you're a survivor, or you're still alive whilst others who should live have died, you tend to keep that desire to not live anymore inside, so you bury it," the mage explained, sliding the staff onto his back and facing Zevran.

"Like putting on a face," Zevran smiled hesitantly and Daylen nodded.

"Now let's go and find the others, and end this curse once and for all," the grey warden said.

"A man agrees," Zevran clapped his hands together, causing the other three members of the group to look at him oddly. "You gentlemen weren't around for that," he said.

"Oh, I detect a new camp fire story," Oghren said as the group began walking together.

Oghren grunted uncomfortably as Zevran put one arm on his shoulder and another around Daylen's.

"My dwarven friend it all started when we found this elf with a wounded leg."

Robb wanted to scream, but he couldn't find his voice. He was in the forest, except it wasn't truly where he was, or rather when he was. The trees were younger, some were still growing, others that were there that wouldn't be there in the future. Without a body he just drifted, not so much as smelling smoke but feeling a foul stench through the air. This feeling grew even worse when he saw dead elves on the floor, their straw houses burned, hart mounts being cut open by butchers. A girl was screaming, screaming in a way that Robb had never heard before and would haunt him for the rest of his days. The screams came from one of the huts still remaining. Men stood on the outside of it, some counting coin, others looking at elven keep sakes with disdain. The screaming reached its highest pitch and then came like hiccups. A man walked out of the hut, holding up his trousers with one hand and holding an elf girl by her hair. He threw her down and began to tighten the belt back around his waist. Robb's heart sank as the girl, naked and bruised curled up, shielding her groin with her knees.

'Seven hells, you bastards, you monsters,' Robb wanted to scream.

The men rode away and a bald elf ran into the remains of the village. He fell beside the girl, cradling her before he screamed. Robb watched in sympathy, then felt uneasy when the elf, Zathrian stood up with a fury in his eyes Robb had never seen before. Time passed and Zathrian began drawing a circle of some kind with leaves and his own blood. His eyes shined with magic before he reached into the dirt. Energy sparked around him, a great wind ripped through the forest, followed by a scream. Zathrian began pulling something out of the ground, it looked like a woman with oily green skin and glowing eyes.

"NO, NO DON'T DO THIS PLEASE!" she screamed in a voice that echoed through Robb's very soul.

The spirit thrashed around but Zathrian still dragged her, gripping her neck with both hands.

"Become my will Witherfang, my vengeance, a curse on their houses, on their descendents on all of humanity, grant them a form as savage as their hearts," the keeper snarled.

The spirit screamed, body bending and breaking to take on a new form. It howled at the moon, the white wolf's eyes glowed with the same blue affect as Zathrian's.

'No, what are you doing?' Robb wanted to ask.

The white wolf ran off at Zathrian's command. And Robb watched as the wolf attacked the humans at their camp. But it did not end in death, the humans began to change, beginning a cycle. They returned to their homes, took their families and neighbours and thus the curse was spread.

Robb returned to the world gasping for breath and looking around. He was still in the forest, still a monster.

'No, not a monster,' Robb corrected himself.

The rage wasn't gone; it had just been directed towards the truth. Robb's fur rose again as he bore his claws and yelled out.

"ZATHRIAN!"

Next Chapter 31: The arcane warrior and the green seer

I hope everyone enjoyed these Robb and Zevran centric chapters, when you've played nature of the beast and Solas's personal quest in Inquisition, you realise there's some parallels in the case of Zathrian bending a spirit to his will, 'violating' its nature if you will as his daughter was violated.

Next time Daylen's specialisation class quest and an interlude with Bran Stark.