MEIRA

We passed through the woods in silence, I watching our Avvarian guides as they moved amongst the trees. They seemed to be one with them, fading in and out of view. My elven eyes could barely separate their forms from the trunks of the trees, the painted camouflage upon their skin done with that amount of skill. They seemed to be kin to the forest, much like the Dalish, and I found myself fascinated by them. I had to avert my eyes every so often, however, as it seemed an Avvarian custom for their warriors and hunters to wear as little clothing as possible; they were naked beneath the body paint, fur and armor covering only their forearms, shoulders, legs and unmentionables.

When not studying our allies, I studied the forest. Within, I saw many a strange creature lurking. Hunting. Some studied our party for a time, but all the predators deemed the potential prey not worth the threat. Brightly colored birds flitted through the branches, their calls unfamiliar. Various rodents climbed the great trunks of the ancient trees. The smell of the coming summer wafted through the air.

It had been early morning when we'd arrived at the rendezvous with Harding. It was well into the afternoon before our guides signaled for us to stop. The leader, who had said his name was Erik, from before stuck a hand within one of the massive tree trunks and withdrew a couple bundles from the hollow. He passed one to Cullen and one to me.

"The strange templars and their mage cohorts patrol these lands," Erik stated, "Best you appear Avvar from here on." He looked to Harding and the other scouts with her before his eyes turned to me. The color of them was hard to make out with the swirls of paint upon his face. "Extend your cover to them. The less of us there are, the better, but I would not have all of you hidden. For we do not know you yet."

I nodded, pressing my barrier to encase Harding and the scouts. I was amazed at the ease with which I did so and continued to hide so many with my abilities. I could feel each of them. The strumming of their hearts, the rhythm of their breathing. But more than that, I could feel what they felt. Some were afraid, some were curious, some were calm. Though I kept myself from doing so, I knew I could slip within their minds, into their thoughts, with no effort at all. I fought back a shudder at the knowledge as I pulled the skins and furs over my travel clothes. What would they think if they knew? If they really knew what I was? What I was capable of?

"You know what they'd think of you. What they'd do. It's why you shy away from the truth. Why you lie." I ignored her voice. Cullen knew and he did not shy away. "Does he really know? Does he truly understand that you could drive him mad with but a word? A thought?"

I felt a hand grip my elbow tightly and pull. I slammed hard into a warm body. Blinking, I looked up to find Erik's gaze boring down at me. "Watch your footing, lowlander, lest you court death." I looked down to find that I'd nearly fallen off the side of a cliff. He pulled me closer to him. He smelled of smoke and fur. "Something troubles your mind, little elf."

I brushed away his hand, which was large enough to wrap around the whole of my elbow, as I straightened. "Thank you."

"I know little of magic, but all we Avvar are sensitive to it. It is how our gods speak to us," he began, "You have been touched by the gods for you have walked their lands. Our Augur has spoken of you. Seek him out when we reach the Hold and your business with the Thane concludes. Perhaps he can help you."

I met his gaze. His eyes intense as they looked me over, causing me to feel uneasy. I nodded before returning to Cullen's side. The Avvarian was still studying me as I looked towards him again. His gaze flicked between Cullen and I before he continued on.

"Are you alright?" Cullen murmured, worry in his eyes and voice, once there was distance between our guide and us.

"Yes." I could tell he didn't believe me, but knew now was not the time to press it.

We'd left the forest behind for open ground consisting of steep cliffs that we descended to flatlands and swamps. The air was warm and muggy out from the cover of the trees. We traveled the harsh terrain, our Avvarian guides cautioning us as to where it was dangerous to step and where it was safe. Defending us from the dangers of the swamps—both fauna and flora; some of which was familiar, much of which was not. As they had said, we spotted patrols of Red Templars as we passed. They further up in the mountains that surrounded the Basin, but still easy to see with their red lyrium glinting in the dying sun. It was nearly nightfall when we reached a small grouping of huts that sat at the shore of Cloudclap Lake. As we approached, we heard arguing voices. Our guides held up their hands, indicating for us to stop.

"Stay here," Erik whispered before walking forward.

"What is this?" An aggressive voice questioned, "Are the fishers of Stone-Bear Hold too rude to share a meal with friends?"

"Can the Jaws of Hakkon not catch their own fish?" A mocking voice answered, "Or are those jaws only good for flapping?"

Though humans would not be able to see at this distance because night had fallen, I could see who was speaking. A man dressed in similar furs to our guides stood with his arms crossed in front of a fire, while two warriors dressed in garish body paint of black and white were across from him, weapons in their hands. Upon their faces, their jaws had been accentuated with a skeletal design. I noticed that their weapons glowed with an ice spell. And where the tribesmen of Stone-Bear favored brown leathers and furs to make them appear akin to bears, these tribesmen wore dark skins that appeared reptilian.

"Mind your tongue, Bog-Walker. Stone-Bear Hold may not always shelter you…and you will need shelter when the cold winds come."

"Yet I feel only hot air," he snorted.

"When the Jaws of Hakkon rule, you will wish you had been more generous if your weak Lady has not already picked your foolish bones clean."

"I suggest you return to your Thane, lest tensions grow," Erik called out once he was within the light of the fire, "You've thrown enough insults our way. You are not welcome at our fire this night."

Hesitating a moment, seeing more warriors from Stone-Bear arriving, the Jaws of Hakkon relented. "Fools," the aggressor spit before they turned to leave, disappearing in the shadows.

"Avrid," Erik called once they were out of sight, "Is all well?"

"Aye," Avrid nodded, "Just the Hakkonites trying to stir up trouble. I suggest you take our guests up to the hold, though, not safe to have them camp here. Helsa says there's a group of them camped for hunting close by."

Erik nodded. "Send a bird ahead, would you? And may the Lady keep you."

Avrid nodded before Erik led us past the group of huts and began to ascend once more. To our right, Cloudclap Lake's waves slapped against the rocky cliffside we were now upon, seagulls crying as they flew over its waters. To our left, another mighty cliffside rose. The further we ascended, the more signs of occupation began to crop up.

"The Jaws of Hakkon?" Cullen questioned Erik at one point.

"Worry not about them," Erik shook his head, "They are trouble, but for now they hold to their oath—as do we. But be wary, lowlanders. They do not take kindly to other Avvar. You they will not hesitate to kill if given the grounds, even if you are under our protection. Any act on your side will be perceived as hostility and justification to attack."

Torches were lit along the lakeside path. Manmade steps within the ground. Fences. Then we came to a wooden bridge. Across it, there were great bears carved of stone on either side of a large gate. Within the open maws of the bears were fires which glowed into their eyes, making for a rather intimidating entrance. Guards stood before the gate, weapons in hand.

The warriors nodded to one another before the gates were opened to us. We climbed a short distance further up the cliffside before we reached the Hold. Dwellings dotted the entirety of the cliffside, some freestanding, some built within the cliff itself, torches on the outside illuminating their homes. The Hold stretched from where we stood to near the very top of the cliffside. Avvarians going about their nightly routines stopped to see us pass.

"Our Thane bids you welcome and asks to speak with you who lead your hunting party," Erik spoke once we had entered the Hold proper, "The rest will find lodging in our feasting house." He gestured to one of the women watching us.

She approached, giving a slight nod of her head. "Blessings be upon you. You are safe here. Your enemy does not wander this far for fear of our wrath. And the wrath of the Jaws of Hakkon. And our gods will warn us should they seek to do us harm."

Letting out a breath, I released my grip upon the Fade that had kept the Battalion, scouts and soldiers hidden. We watched as they followed the woman past the mouth of a great cave and down to a bridge suspended across open air connecting the cliffside to a large rock nearby. There, a large building with warm light spilling out of its windows and smoke billowing from the roof sat. Our guide waved for Cullen and I to continue on with him. We were led towards the cave opening, the Veil thin here as I felt it tingle against my skin. I could feel spirits watching, whispering, pressing against it. I tangled my fingers in Ghilani's fur for comfort.

The craftsmanship of the Avvarian homes was impressive; bear motifs were carved within the doors, beams and even the smokestacks throughout the hold. Across from the cave opening, a carving not quite finished stretched towards the sky, illuminated by braziers. We crossed the stone threshold of the cave, finding a large fire pit alight within, the walls and floors decorated with furs, trophies of successful hunts, torches, and what I guessed to be sacred artifacts. On the other side of the fire pit sat a great throne carved of stone. Adorning the throne, a set of jaws from some huge beast. Carved within the throne were faces and animals which I suspected to be the gods of the Avvar. And upon its seat sat a middle-aged woman, at her feet two great mabari slept. And near the opening of the cave, a great bear lay.

"Our thane," our guide gestured to the woman, "And here I will leave you."

"Thank you, Erik," the thane stated as he left. Cullen and I stood across from her, the fire in the pit betweeen us hot and crackling. Her eyes flicked to Cullen and I. "Commander Rutherford. Lieutenant-Commander Talitha. Come share my fire and let us speak. I am Svarah Sun-Hair, Thane of Stone-Bear Hold. You and your people have guest-welcome here. Your Inquisition has done much to heal the holes in the sky. We are grateful. You've come far from the safety of the lowlands to seek our aid."

"Our thanks to you, Thane. Our people have been unable to reach Emprise du Lion unnoticed," Cullen began, "Movran the Under spoke of your hold's connection to a certain town being vital to your trade and survival."

"Sahrnia, yes," Svarah nodded, "the Elfsblood River is frozen solid—unnatural for this time of year even for the Highlands. Sahrnia sits at its mouth—between the river and her quarry, she was an ideal spot for trade with the Orlesians. The river being frozen, however, has cut off our ability to trade depriving us of coin, supple leather and many things that help us weather the winter."

"You suspect that our enemy is behind the river being frozen?" Cullen questioned.

"I do not suspect, I know," Svarah stated, "I sent a few of my hunters up there to scout out the area. The town is a ruin, the quarry occupied by strange templars and some grotesque mineral the color of blood covers nearly the whole of the landscape. What's more, the gods speak of something powerful there. Something that keeps the waters of the Elfsblood frozen at the behest of the templars and their god."

Cullen and I looked at one another. The demon. Cullen looked to the Thane once more. "We were warned of this. It is a demon."

Svarah processed this news. "It is no wonder the gods fear it, then. To be so powerful." Svarah looked to me. "And you who has walked the Land of Dreams, the gods have spoken animatedly of you the closer to our hold you have drawn. Our Augur wishes you to speak with him."

"That is twice now I have been told such," I spoke, "What do you know of me?"

"Not I, but our gods," Svarah corrected, "I am no augur nor mage. Speak with my augur if you wish to know more."

"Thank you," I nodded.

Svarah looked back to Cullen. "Commander Rutherford, in exchange for our goods and aid, I ask that you and your people eliminate this threat. If it be a demon that holds back the waters of the river, end it. If it be your enemy that holds sway over this demon, root them out."

Cullen placed a fist on his chest. "We will see it done."

"But before I can grant you our goods, our aid and even our warriors, you must face the Trials of Hakkon to prove you are worthy."

"That was not part of our agreement," Cullen argued, "We traveled here under the pretense that your aid was already promised."

"You are in my hold, Commander," Svarah warned, "Guest-welcome. That means you have a right to our protection, our beds and our food. Much as any lowlander who would welcome a guest in their home. But you have not earned our trust or oath. You are not your Inquisitor, who has healed the very sky. To not further insult me, I ask that you hold to our traditions that earn one respect amongst our people and hold."

"But our enemy—"

"Will not move without my knowing of it," Svarah cut him off, "I do not ask this of you lightly."

Cullen's jaw was clenched, but he nodded. "Forgive me. I meant no offense."

Svarah cracked a grin. "Aye you did, lowlander, but such is the way of young men. Foolhardy. Many of my warriors are the same. Should your blade prove as quick as your temper, you'll have our respect soon enough." She looked to me. "The Augur communes with the gods in the late hours. Should you wish to seek him out, he will be at the top of the cliffside." She stood then, looking to Cullen once more. "And your hunters, my Master of the Hunt has spoken of some of the game acting strangely, particularly those who dwell near the holes in the sky. The gods have warned us away from them."

"Our scholars at Skyhold have been studying the effects of the Breach and the subsequent tears in the Veil upon the wildlife," I stated, "It has made them far more aggressive, especially those who are close to any tears."

Svarah nodded. "Perhaps the Inquisition would do well to set up a camp in the Basin?"

"If you would allow it?" Cullen questioned.

"I do not own the Basin, Commander," Svarah chuckled, "But we would welcome the trade."

"I will send word to Skyhold and have our scouts find a suitable area while we are here."

"Good. It will take us some days to gather the remainder of the supplies you'll need to make the journey to Sahrnia. All I ask is that you pay respect to our ways in the meantime." She grabbed a torch from one of the holders dotting the cave and gestured for us to follow. "Come. As you are the leaders of your party and guest-welcome in my hold, you'll lay your heads under my roof."

We followed her out of the cave and up a different path than the one the others had taken. Huts were dotted all along as the Thane led us to another cave entrance, but this one had a door and some windows carved into the rock. She opened the door, kissing her fingers and then the post where another motif was carved. This one was of a woman. In one hand she held fire and in the other a swaddled infant. Svarah stepped inside and then stood, waiting for us to cross the threshold.

She noticed my curious stare at the motif. "Rilla of the Fireside," she explained, "The goddess we honor for protection of the hearth and for the making of babies." Cullen coughed awkwardly at her last statement, causing her to smirk. "No doubt our ways seem strange to you, lowlanders. You worship but one god, yes? Pray to it? Except perhaps you, lady elf? Your people have a pantheon much the same as we do?"

"The Dalish elves worship a pantheon, yes," I explained as she led us further within her home, "But not all elves are Dalish nor do all elves worship the pantheon."

"And I take it you are such an elf?"

"I am," I stated, "I worship the Maker and His Bride."

"Andraste," she said, "Her tales are interesting, to be sure, but here our gods appear. Have you ever seen your god?"

"We have not earned the right," Cullen stated.

"Why worship a god that abandoned you?"

"Did he abandon us or did we turn our back on him? Twice?" I asked.

"Fair enough, but I'd rather worship a god I can see," she declared, her tone suggesting the conversation was over. She stopped before a door. "Here you are, Commander." Within was a bedroom that housed a bed carved of stone and covered with furs, and a washbasin. The floor and walls were bedecked in furs; a fireplace held a cheery fire with a chimney carved out of the earth itself; a tapestry hung above it, the thread woven to tell some tale of the hold. A table laden with food sat in the corner across from the bed. "I bid you a good night and may the Lady keep you." She waved for me to follow as Cullen stepped within his room. "And this one is yours, Dreamwalker."

She opened another door to a similar bedroom. The layout much the same, furs lining the walls and floor, a bed, and washbasin. A different tapestry hung above the fireplace, another tale woven in its threads. More food sat on the table within this room, my stomach growling at the sight. When Svarah left, I removed the furs I'd been offered as well as the outer layers of my travel clothes before washing up. I ate some of the food, the selection being cheese, dried meat, some dried fruit and bread. Sated, I crawled into the bed, finding it surprisingly comfortable. But as I tried to fall asleep, I felt the Veil thin even more. Excited whispers sounding in my ear.

"I could get used to a place like this," Purpose's voice spoke suddenly, he appearing at the end of the bed. He turned, his gold eyes burning as he flashed a crooked grin. "These humans worship spirits. Can you imagine? To not be feared or reviled, but worshipped?" He grabbed at the food, incorporeal food that mirrored what had been offered appearing in his hand. "And you? They are curious about you, what you can do, instead of fearful."

"I'm sorry for the other night, Purpose," I stated.

He waved a hand. "You were upset and you're angry. You've been asked to bear a burden no one should. I can hardly blame you for lashing out once in a while." "Because he is to blame."

"Will the spirits here let me sleep?" I questioned.

He chuckled. "No. Once your mind enters the Fade they'll be drawn to you." He stood, beginning to fade. "They're eager to show you their history. You will not find dreamless sleep here, but if you wish them to do so calmly, best find this augur first."

With that, I slipped from the thane's house as quietly as I could.

…

The whispers grew incessant, they beckoning me in the direction I needed to go. But I knew even without their help, as the augur's hut had odd smelling smoke pluming out the middle of the roof and the light within was tinged blue where it sat along the cliffside. Ghilani walked with me for a time before trotting off to hunt. I followed the paths within the hold towards the hut and paused before the door. Lifting a hand to knock upon it, the door opened before I made contact.

"I was hoping you would come," the man I assumed to be the augur said by way of greeting. He was impressively tall, lean but muscled, not as old as Svarah, but not as young as I. Swarthy skin and dark eyes stood out amongst his features. He turned and yelled in a scolding voice, "Don't throng!"

The whispers quieted. He stepped inside and gestured for me to come in. Within the hut I found a strange sight: in the middle sat a great fire pit, the flames a greenish-blue akin to veilfire, and candles littering the ground with flames of the same color. Smoke danced off the flames of the pit, the plume appeared thick but did not choke the air and the smell brought to mind finely roasted meat with herbs. As I stepped inside, the Veil thinned and numerous spirits pressed through to become visible. Their forms reflected the Avvar people as they were dressed in furs and leathers, but as to what kind of spirits they were it was difficult to discern. For they were not merely the concepts of virtues or vices given shape, but more.

"Behold, worthy ones!" The Augur began, "The one who is called Fadewalker, your kin; for she is friend to you and dread to demons. Blessed by the gods to walk amongst them, who have made her shine as the stars. I am the Augur of Stone-Bear Hold. I greet you, friend to she whom blazes like a fire. As do our gods and the gods of our ancestors." At the last, the whispering grew to shouts of excitement before a great shift was felt in the room as the Veil thickened and the spirits vanished. "There!" The Augur cried out, gasping for a breath, "It is done. Now come, be welcome!"

"Did you just…introduce me to spirits?" I questioned, "You summoned them?"

"The gods of the Hold clamored to see you. Not only for your own merit, but for your kinship to the one who bears the mark upon her hand. I obeyed. For I am their voice and their augur and if I didn't show you off, they'd hound me for months," the Augur explained, humor in his voice. "Do not act as if it were some strange thing, Dreamwalker, for I feel your spirit kin tied to you. You, surely, do not believe as the other lowlanders do about the gods of the Fade? For word has reached us even here of how you share your hold with them."

"I…," I swallowed, "My knowledge of them is much changed in recent months, yes." I looked to the fire pit, the flames now a kaleidoscope of oranges and yellows. "How do you—how do your spirits—know of me?"

"To those beyond the Veil, the hand of the one which you call Inquisitor burns like a watchman's bonfire. They are drawn to her. And whom should they find beside her, but you? One who can walk amongst them. Through you, they hope to speak to her. But fear is rooted deep within she who bears the mark."

I couldn't speak for a few breaths. All that he had just revealed. 'What is the opposite of fear?' Cole and the others had not just been talking about my fear. Just how much did Ellana keep hidden from me? From us all? "Ellana…is afraid?"

"Would you not be to have the eyes of the gods so intently drawn?" The Augur questioned, the tone of it indicating he already knew the answer, before spreading out his hands. "Here we revere the gods. Do you lowlanders—wether you be elfkind or human—revere the gods?"

Even amongst the Dalish, particularly the Lavellan clan, the Fade and its denizens were feared. "No. We are taught to be afraid of them. Them and the Fade."

"And with such teachings, the inevitable follows," the Augur sighed, he gestured to the ground where furs were spread, "Sit and share my fire."

I nodded and sat, crossing my legs. "So because of the Mark, the spirits of the Fade can see her? Know where she is?"

"Only those nearby, but thoughts spread quickly amongst the gods," he explained, "They tell me strange things. She muddied time's waters where the cliffs are red, and returned again. She faced the ancient creature and his mighty dragon; the creature tried to steal her gods-given gift, but the gods declared her worthy of it. It is now part of her, the gift permanent. And in that blessing, she can now command the very Veil itself. Open and close it as she wills."

"That is what she did at Skyhold," I mused aloud, "She opened a rift and it killed everything within the immediate area. The power that emanated from her…how she appears in the Fade…what is the mark on her hand?"

He shook his head. "That I do not know; and if the gods do, it is not for mortals to know as they do not share that knowledge."

"You said the spirits hope to speak to her through me. What do you mean?"

"I am an augur," he began, "To your people my title may have no meaning, but to the Avvar…Not all mages amongst our people are augurs, but all augurs are mages. I give counsel to other mages and the Thane. In turn, an augur takes counsel from the gods and shares it with the Hold. I make their will known to us and ours to them."

"To our people, you would be akin to an ambassador for the local spirits," I surmised.

"And you could be as such to your Inquisition."

"What do you mean?"

"Our gods protect our Hold. They help drive off spirits who've gone bad with rage or gloom. The gods live with us. Ignore their offerings, offer them nothing, and it weakens us all."

"But you believe the spirits are divine beings," I stated, "We do not share that belief."

"The spirits watched us even before we came from the North. They shaped themselves into our gods and we grew to love them," he mended the fire, the flames having diminished, "No, you may not share our beliefs, but what they can offer you remains the same. Their secret gift is this, Fadewalker: They reflect us as water does the sky. They show what we wish to be. That image gives us strength. For that, we thank the gods."

"Forgive me as I mean no offense, I am simply trying to understand," I began, "You understand that they are the reflection of what you believe. They become your gods by giving form to what they see in your minds—in your dreams. They are neither spirit nor demon, but both. They have to be in order to give form to that which you worship. Do I understand?"

He nodded. "If the gods need be explained, that is as good an explanation as any."

"So it is you who gives them power?"

"We do not give anything, Fadewalker, we offer. It is they who choose what to do with that offering."

"What does that mean?"

He gave a gentle smile, full of patience. Clearly, this was a conversation he'd had before. "The gods offer to us. They offer to guide us, teach us, share their knowledge. Your people have the Circles—prisons in which other mages teach you how to use your gifts. But those gifts are restricted, watched, by your templars. If they go beyond what your Circles and religion allow, you are killed or cut off from communing with the gods. We have the gods as our teachers. The young mages are bonded to one to learn how to use their magic. Not to be frightened of it. It is a gift, bestowed by the gods. The gods are magic, therefore who better to teach us how to use it?" He mended the fire again. "In turn, we offer our bodies. We offer our dreams. We offer our food. In so doing, they grow stronger. Is not the same of the spirits you come into contact with?"

"For us, it is the emotion or concept which a spirit—or demon—reflects that gives them form. The stronger the emotion felt or the more clear the concept thought out, the stronger the spirit."

"It is as that for our gods," he nodded, "But instead of a singular expression, our gods are beings. Complex. Ever changing and yet constant. A convergence of several to create a whole. As it is with the spirits you have influenced."

"How do you know this?"

His eyes were intense as they met mine. "As thoughts have traveled quickly about the Inquisitor, so too have they traveled of you." He mended the fire and threw a bundle of dried herbs within, along with a few bones. Suddenly he went very still, his eyes unfocused. The Veil thinned and I sensed within him a presence. When he opened his mouth to speak, the voice was not his. He was possessed.

"Demon!" I shouted as I made to stand.

"Be still!" The thing roared, "I am no demon. I speak through him because he allows it. I will depart as soon as I have said what I must."

"Then why not seek me out in the Fade? We could have just as easily conversed there!"

"I do not wish this conversation to be overheard," it explained, "For within the mortal, I can hide myself—for a time. Now be seated and listen." Wary, but curious, I sat. "The spirit of wisdom that calls itself Prudence sought me out, Fadewalker. In search of an answer to that which haunts you. A wisp beckoned her here. You sought to eliminate that which lies within you in order to have full control of the armor you wield. But perhaps you were asking the wrong question, seeking the wrong end? The mortals here do not abide by your laws and as such have discovered ways of living harmoniously with us that you would never consider. But they are not without their failings. Nor are we immune to corruption because of it."

"What if I can't destroy her?"

"Then you would have to find a new solution, would you not? Whether or not it is true as you will not wield the magic that uses your very life force?"

"Is there another way?"

"That is for you to decide," it stated, "Heed the Augur's words, Fadewalker, for in them is truth. Truth you will need in the coming days."

"What do you mean?"

"We reflect," it clarified, its voice becoming distant, "You are one who can walk amongst us, nay shape us to your will. The mortals here have done that for us over numerous generations. You can do that with but a touch. A thought even, for those weaker spirits."

"Yes, but what does that have to do with Doubt?" At the question, the flames within the hut guttered, the temperature dipping as I felt her growl.

The thing within the Augur looked at me. "What did you unwittingly birth in the dark? What is mirroring you? For it is not always a beautiful thing we reflect. But what is more, you can change the nature of the mirror."

"I don't understand."

The thing looked over its shoulder. "I cannot stay. It sees me."

"What sees you?"

"The other reason I came," it whispered, "I was with the hunters the one they call Thane sent north. The demon there; it is no ordinary demon." It looked over its shoulder again. It's voice was fading as it spoke. "Keep your wits about you, Fadewalker. This one will be your undoing."

"Tell me what you mean!" I urged.

Its eyes met mine. "It will force you to make a choice, but do not trust it." At that, the flames went from the blue hue to warm oranges once more, the burning offering no longer smelling pleasant. The Augur shook his head slightly. "Apologies. I should have given warning."

"You…you let one of them…possess you?" I stammered, gooseflesh erupting across my skin.

He shook his head. "It is not possession as you think of possession. It is not permanent. The rite demands the spirit return to the Fade." He met my eyes. "The gods have only as much power as we allow them. We have our rules, lowlander, despite what you may think. Our own traditions and boundaries to safe-guard both our gods and our people. The spirit-touched within our hold are offered a sacred gift from the gods. We share a bond with them for a time, both souls swearing an oath to release the other when the teaching is done." He mended the fire again. "For some that are too weak, however, their teacher remains with them. Both souls watched by the gods for signs of corruption. Should corruption occur, should the mage become a threat to us…the gods release them both to the eternal rest."

"They kill them."

He made no answer. "That bond and oath are sacred. To willingly break that oath is to endanger the hold and the gods."

"You have no way of parting the two? Of reversing the corruption?"

He shook his head. "It has been tried. But a god corrupted…" His eyes met mine again, the sense that he knew something in their light. "Their wrath knows no bounds. And the mortal who is joined to them? They have become a shadow of themselves. Unknown to us."

"A monster," I murmured. "It is what you are, no matter how much you pretend otherwise."

He nodded. "But you, Dreamwalker? Are you not the bridge between god and mortal? Could you not succeed where others have failed?"

"But how?" I urged.

He looked at me sadly. "I wish I had the answer for you. But the god who spoke to you imparted its wisdom. Perhaps in their words, in what you are to face, you will find what you seek."

I returned to Svarah's home with even more questions echoing within my head. The spirits, the Augur, even my own mind seemed to all know something. To know the answer to a question I didn't know how to ask. That I was missing something obvious about Doubt. The more I tried to grasp it, the quicker it slipped through my fingers.

'What did you unwittingly birth in the dark?' 'We reflect.' 'You can change the nature of the mirror.' 'What did you lose in that cell?'

The answer was on the tip of my tongue, like an echo I could not hear, but feel. It was enough to make me want to scream in frustration. The flames of the candles and the burning hearth guttered as I let out a growl and threw myself onto the bed. I slipped past the Veil to lose myself within the Fade.

My dreams were filled with memories of the Avvar people. Great battles, exuberant feasts, marriage ceremonies, daring feats and hunts. Their "gods" wanting to show the Dreamwalker their people. For as the augur had spoken of loving the spirits for what they offered them in giving life to their gods, so too did the spirits love the people for letting them taste mortality. In all their deeds, the Avvar invoked the gods and when they did, it thinned the Veil enough for them to pass through and observe within the mortals that called to them. But always, they returned to the Fade, sated by what they had experienced. The occurrence of corruption seemed a rare thing.

"Do not let them fool you," Purpose spoke beside me as I watched a young soon-to-be thane face the Trial of Hakkon.

"What do you mean?"

"It is not so rare as they would have you believe." His face was hard, his arms crossed.

I met his gold eyes. "You know something. What is it?"

He shook his head. "No matter how amicable the relationship, there are always those who seek to abuse it. Who want more."

"What changed? You spoke of how they worshipped spirits and admired it."

He pressed his lips into a hard line. "I do long for mortals to not be so frightened of us. But their practices lead to more than just a lessening of fear. It leads to some forgetting it entirely." He let out a breath. "The road to the Abyss is paved with the best of intentions."

I chuckled without humor. "An abomination?"

"Yes."

"Should we be worried?"

"Not yet, but it may need to be dealt with."

"Thank you for telling me."

He rubbed the back of his neck, making me think of Cullen as he did so. "Mortals," he mumbled before disappearing.

I laughed softly before going to find Cullen and be beside him as he faced his nightmares.

…

"Where did you go last night?" Cullen questioned from the door as I finished pulling my boots on that morning. "I came to your room, but you were absent."

"The Augur," I murmured, not meeting his eyes, tying my laces.

"What did this augur tell you?" He questioned and I could hear the wariness in his words. "It is because he does not trust you. Not truly. He fears you. The more powerful you grow, the more obvious it becomes." I let out a breath and explained all that had happened. All that had been discussed. When I finished, I finally met his eyes. His face was hard with anger, but his gaze was gentle. "Maker's breath," he said exasperatedly, "I knew magic here would be used differently but…"

"I know. It is dangerous, but it is their way. We cannot force them to practice magic as we do." My lips twisted into a smirk. "Unless you wish to use the Inquisition to perform an Exalted March?"

He breathed a laugh. "Maker, no." He let out a sigh. "The sooner I get through this trial the better. Whatever the demon is, it needs to be dealt with swiftly. And the sooner we're away from here the better." He shook his head. "I'll try not to worry about it. But mages who willingly submit to possession…who subject children to possession…" His lips pressed into a hard line.

"Your Chantry and Templar Order have no place here, Commander," Svarah spoke from behind him, her voice deadly. "Do not even think of invoking it upon us lest you call the whole of the Avvar upon you lowlanders." Cullen straightened. "We have our ways and we will die defending them."

"I have no wish to impose upon you beliefs you do not hold," Cullen stated, "but you'll forgive me if I remain cautious."

"Cautious is fine. Impertinent is not. You will not insult our gods." Her eyes burned and her words were like the hissing of a cat, full of venom. "They care for us, especially the little ones. They would never willingly bring them to harm." She looked to me. "Perhaps she is the better candidate to undergo Hakkon's trial? I fear the gods may spurn you and cause you to lose, little pup."

I bit my lip and hid a laugh as I watched Cullen's ego be wounded. "That won't be necessary," he assured.

"It is your choice, but I'm of half a mind to add an extra challenge to your trial for your the bad manners you've had since you've entered my Hold."

"Thane, if you'll—"

"Is this how all you lowlanders are? You walk into the houses of others who have invited you as a guest and pee on their furniture?"

"Truly, I—"

She snapped her fingers. "This will be my demand." I could tell the woman was fighting a smile as she spoke. "For your poor manners, you will face Hakkon's trial in the garb of an Avvar warrior. And with weapons from our armory."

At first, Cullen seemed confused as to why this would be a punishment. "In the garb of—" The it dawned on him and he went red at the tips of his ears. "Please—"

"So you do have manners," Svarah chuckled. "Too bad they come too late. I'll send the augur to instruct you on preparation."

"Please, Thane—" But she pretended not to listen as she left her home. Once she was gone, I let out my laughter. Cullen glared at me, his face red with embarrassment. "This is not funny."

"It's hilarious!" I cried, holding my belly.

"You realize what this means, don't you?!" He growled. "I have to fight—"

"Half-naked!" I teased, "You'll forgive me, my lion, if I look forward to your punishment."

He went even redder. "Why do I get the feeling that this is some elaborate prank?" He narrowed his eyes at me. "Do you know something?"

I shrugged. "Haven't a clue."

His eyes narrowed further, his mouth opening as the Augur lumbered into view. In his hands he held a few jars. His eyes flicked between us, a slight smirk on his mouth. "Thane Svarah sent me to prepare you for Hakkon's Trial. It seems she asks you wear the traditional warpaint of our warriors and their armor to honor the gods." He looked at Cullen. "They tell me you've slighted them, but find this a fitting offering." He looked to me and held out the jars. "But they'd prefer you paint him."

All gaiety within me died as heat rose in my face. "What?"

His lips twitched. "We all enjoy invoking Rilla and she's more than happy to answer."

I heard Cullen mutter "Sweet Maker" under his breath. It was full of exasperation. If I could have crawled into a hole and died, I would have. I made the mistake of looking at Cullen. We were both flushed bright red. "But I'm not—"

"This is the offering the gods request," the augur cut me off, raising a brow, "do you wish to further anger them?" I could hear the gaggle of the spirits beyond the Veil. I let them know just what I thought about this in my mind. Laughter was their only response.

Cullen grabbed the jars out of his hands. "So be it."

"I'll return with some armor. You're about as tall as the Master of the Hunt." He looked at me. "Paint him however you'd like. The paintings can tell a story, if you wish. But it has to cover all of him. The paint is an offering to the gods to ask for protection and aid in battle." He chuckled. "Particularly in those areas you wish not to disfigure," he bumped Cullen with his elbow, "Or lose."

I swallowed hard. Sweet Andraste. He laughed as he left. Cullen and I met each other's eyes and went redder. He rubbed the back of his neck as I bit my lip.

"Maker's breath," he breathed, his voice husky. He cleared his throat. "We, uh, we better j-just get this over with."

I looked at him from beneath my lashes. "I suppose you're right." I stood and turned my back to him. "I'll let you undress."

He cleared his throat again. "R-right." The heat from my blush spread to my cheeks, to the tips of my ears, to my chest as I listened to the sounds of him undressing. The brush of fabric against his skin, the hitches in his breath. I swore I could even hear his heart pounding. He cleared his throat before saying, "R-ready." To my relief, he'd only removed the layers on his torso. His arms were crossed, his jaw clenched as he looked away. "I will not allow them to put you in a compromising situation for the sake of their entertainment. It is ridiculous." He met my eyes. "Besides, they did not say I had to be unclothed. They only said the paint had to cover all of me."

I swallowed hard as I nodded. "You have a point."

Slowly, I stood and went to the jars on the nearby table. Opening one, the color within was a warm reddish-brown like the clay earth of the Hold's cliffside, the other a darker shade like the bark of rain-dampened trees and the last an off-white like crushed bone. 'The paintings can tell a story if you wish.' I smirked a little at that as a story came to mind.

Dipping my fingers into the first jar, I covered my palm with the paint before turning to Cullen. Instead of seeing the man I loved half-naked before me, I now saw the blank canvas of his skin. While paint was not my usual medium of art, I was no stranger to it. I took hold of his wrist with my clean hand and led him closer to the table, sitting him upon the stool.

I could tell he was tense, so gently I placed my hands on his broad shoulders before leaning to murmur in his ear. "Just trust me."

He let out a breath. "I do."

At those words, I began to paint him. Muscle became landscape, scars and freckles the starry sky, veins trees and water but all woven together to tell a story. To tell his story. On the left side of his chest, I painted the golden boy from Honnleath: for him, the depiction was warm and kind, the white and red-brown mixing to create the amber shade of his eyes to illustrate the village I had seen in the Fade when facing Shame. His family surrounding him as he left home.

On the same side of his back, it was tribute to the boy of Kinloch Hold. The dark brown coloring the Circle tower as it stretched towards the sky from the middle of the lake, but it was broken at its foundation. On the other side of his back, the waters of Lake Calenhad bled into The Gallows. The red-brown the blood of the mages, the dark brown Meredith's shadow where his silhouette was white but from his hands the red-brown dripped.

Wrapping around his rib cage, the red-brown gave way to white as I painted the Inquisition. The symbol of our cause over his heart, the flames like a burning sun that shone upon him raising his sword in defiance to the darkness before him. His arms I painted a solid color, that reddish-brown stretching from his shoulders to his hands. Upon his knuckles, I painted talons. The same solid color over the leathers of his pants and boots.

Last was his face, which I noticed was a deep red, his pupils huge as he looked at me. I thanked the Maker for the focus of painting him distracting me from the fact that I was painting him. My hands touching him more intimately than they yet had. I cleared my throat at the same time he did, our eye contact breaking, as I painted the face of a lion over his own.

The work complete, I blew upon his skin, pouring a little fire magic from my armor into my breath to make the paint dry. When I met Cullen's eyes again, his lips were slightly parted as his gaze was intent upon my mouth before it shifted. His eyes burned bronze as he looked at me, his hands suddenly upon my hips, fingertips digging into the swell of them as he stood. He towered over me a moment, I having to bend back slightly to keep eye contact. His fingers fisted in my hair as he pulled me to his mouth.

"Finished?" The Augur's voice called as he rapped his knuckles upon the door, our lips were a breath apart.

Cullen nearly jumped out of his skin. "Sweet Maker!"

The Augur laughed before throwing a bundle of leather and fur at me. "His armor. Then to the armory. The Trial begins in half an hour." He looked Cullen up and down, nodding with approval. "You've talent, Fadewalker." With a smirk, he noted Cullen's lower half. "And it seems you lowlanders are not so simple as you appear to find a hole in our request."

With that he left. Cullen took the bundle from my hands and put distance between us. Quickly, he dressed in what little clothing there was. Leather bracers on his forearms and a bit of leather trimmed in fur over his shoulders was all that made up his "armor". Over his pants and boots he tied hardened leather vambraces.

Finished, I looked him over and chuckled. "You know, you could almost pass for an Avvar."

He glared at me. "I am not a barbarian."

"I know, my lion. But you would make one handsome one, if you were."

He flushed red again before rubbing his neck. "W-we have work to do."

"Of course," I teased.

…

"My bet is on the warriors of Stone-Bear," Solana joked.

We were sat in the stands overlooking the training arena. The whole of the Hold seemed to be in attendance as well as the Battalion. The Hold was rowdy with excitement, bets being placed upon how Cullen would lose, how many warriors he would take down before he lost and the like. One particular bet had me irritated as the women of the Hold bet how many of them he'd bed later that night or if Svarah would want him for herself. As I heard a couple of them chattering about how handsome he was and how good in the bedroll they thought he'd be, I sat with my arms crossed, teeth biting into my cheek, as the others bantered.

"So little faith, Amell," Barris clicked his tongue, "The Commander is one of the best soldiers I've ever sparred with. I have no doubt he can hold his own."

"Wonder if they'll send any mages in?" Rion questioned.

Worry flickered in my chest at that question. Around me, Cullen had grown comfortable with magic, but with other mages? Those who intended harm upon him, even if it was good-natured? Would he be alright?

"Even if they do, Cullen's proven he can use his abilities if need be," Asaala interjected, "The real challenge would be to not use them."

"You don't have to worry about mages," one of the women in front of us turned to say, "Hakkon's Trial is about prowess in battle. As much a trial for our warriors as your Commander. Magic and the gods cannot aid them. They have to prove they can hold their own without them." She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Besides, we wouldn't take too kindly to templar abilities being used here."

"The Commander will win," Laren stated with full confidence, "For a shem, I've never seen a quicker blade. He's got a sharp mind, fast reflexes and experience. How many battles have these Avvar seen? Real battles?"

"I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss them, Laren," Henry argued, "Cullen's an excellent swordsman, but has he faced their type of battle before?"

"He's adaptable," Laren shrugged.

Solana snorted. "Cullen? Adaptable? You're joking right? The man's as adaptable as a rock."

"People of Stone-Bear Hold!" Svarah called, bringing everyone to attention as the Battalion stifled laughter which only was egged on as Rion and Solana swapped nicknames for Cullen the rest of the army seemed to have come up with for him. "Commander Uptight" and "Ser Stick in the Mud" among others. The excitement of the crowd grew to a crescendo as a burly Avvarian came to stand before us at the behest of Svarah.

"I am Arrken Feldsen. Known to you of the Hold, but stranger to you guest-welcome," Arrken began before his eyes flicked up to where we sat, "Though I hope no stranger to your bedroll should Hakkon favor your Commander and we hold a feast in his honor." Whistles sounded through the crowd. "I prepare warriors for the gods, for I am your Arena Master! Our warriors want your measure, Inquisition! Stone-Bear Hold would know if the spirits favor you. A battle against our best. Wit and muscle and steel against steel. Not to death, just surrender." He gestured to Cullen who'd walked into view. "In case you're afraid."

"That's a relief—wouldn't want to widow the entire village," Cullen challenged, that smug smirk on his mouth.

Jeers and boos came from the crowd in response, but Arrken laughed. "Oh, I like this. Bring the stomach to match those fine words! Come, Commander, step into the grounds, Hakkon's trials await."

I watched as Cullen strode inside the arena. Whatever nervousness he'd had earlier as I'd helped him get ready was gone as he stood tall and proud awaiting his enemy. He made his way up to one of the elevated spots before the gate on the other side of the arena opened. He took a moment and looked back at me. We were close enough we could make out the details of the paintings that decorated his skin. And to see his eyes as they burned with some intense emotion. I watched as he mouthed the words, "I love you."

It earned jeers and elbow jabs from the others as he turned to face the opening gate. But to my heart, it brought ease, knowing that I was the only one who held his heart. That the only bedroll he'd occupy until we were wed was his own. And I felt foolish for letting the Avvarian women's comments get under my skin. "It's because you know the truth."

…

To watch Cullen fight, was akin to watching Solas paint his frescos. Each cut with his blade was precise, purposeful. He maneuvered his shield as if it weighed nothing, blocking arrows and blades in equal measure and with equal swiftness. Without his armor, he moved with incredible speed. Using the arena to his advantage, he outmaneuvered his opponents as he traversed the landscape. His feet clambered up the rocks like a mountain ram, his legs carried him across gaps with the grace of a giant cat, while he raced across bridges with sure footsteps. All the while, his sword and shield were extensions of him, moving to defend him from his enemies weapons with a quickness that seemed to move faster than his mind. Every move he made caused the picture of how he was planning the battle out in his mind to come to life. A real life chess match, moves and countermoves.

While the Avvarians were not without skill, a few getting hits in on Cullen, they did not match him. While they no doubt practiced with their weapons daily, Cullen had lived and breathed swordsmanship from the time he was a child. Cassandra was the only other warrior I had seen with more skill and she had admitted it was only her longer years of experience and more lithe form that gave her an advantage over Cullen. And in watching him against the Avvar, I knew he had held himself back in every spar he'd partaken in amongst those of the Inquisition. He trained them to be as skilled as he was, but had never made them face the brute force of which he was capable.

While at first the people of Stone-Bear Hold had mocked him, shouting for their own warriors' victory, as they watched Cullen bit by bit take them down, the tides had turned. They began calling his name, shouting praise as he performed unexpected moves and daring feats. My mouth went dry as I observed him. He was not only beautiful, but powerful. His handsome face, strikingly fierce. He was agile, clever, and a force of nature as he moved around the arena. Steel met steel, but a quick turn of his blade disarmed his opponent. Shields locked, but Cullen used the environment to bolster his strength after he'd led his foe into a trap. Arrows tried to pierce him, but he'd find cover, catch them with his shield or use an enemy to block them. With each wave of challengers, piece by metaphorical piece, Cullen slowly took them off the figurative board.

His final opponent was a massive Avvarian whose weapon of choice was a giant hammer. While Cullen was tall and brawny even by human standards, he was small compared to the warrior. But what seemed to be a fight Cullen couldn't win by strength, he won by wit. Instead of meeting his enemy head on, he used his bulk against him. He couldn't move as fast as Cullen could between his weight and the weight of his weapon. Before the crowd knew what had happened, Cullen had lured him into a spot within the arena that was too narrow for the Avvarian to turn swiftly. Cullen had scaled the rocks like a goat, gotten around the barbarian and kicked his legs out from under him. Before he could stand, Cullen had his sword to this throat.

Cullen stood over the final Avvarian, victorious as he surrendered. He was panting for breath, his hair and body slick with sweat—though the paint upon his skin seemed to have a charm of some sort as it stayed intact. The crowd was silent for a moment before it broke out in deafening applause. As it did, Cullen's gaze once again found mine. I was captivated by him in the aftermath of his raw display of his swordsmanship, the effect it had upon him. He was burning with pride, his body stunning as his muscles had swelled with the exercise, his curled hair and eyes like gold in the afternoon sun. The way they were fixed upon me was enough to steal the breath from my lungs.

"We have our victor," Svarah announced, "What a battle! For such prowess and such quality entertainment, we shall hold a feast in our guests' honor this night! For they have not only earned our respect, but our oath to help them hunt their prey as well. Hakkon be praised!"

Whoops and hollers echoed through the Hold as the crowd broke to prepare for the coming festivities. Stone-Bear's warriors went to congratulate Cullen and walk him out of the arena. I made my way through the throng of people down to where he was exiting. My heart skipped a beat as I watched him amongst the Avvarians—for whatever their differences in culture or beliefs, warriors had the same passions. He wore a broad smile, smug even, as they swapped techniques. His eyes met mine and warmth pooled in my belly at what they held. The other warriors noticed his stare and started bantering suggestively back and forth at his expense. I blushed, but Cullen smiled gently at me.

"Commander!" Scout Harding's voice shouted over the noise. "Commander!"

Cullen's gaiety died as the face of the Commander returned. Harding's voice was panicked. "What is it?"

"We were attacked, ser!" Harding began. A hush fell over the crowd at those words. Cullen had sent her and the scouts out to find a suitable spot for the Inquisition to set up a more permanent camp. "By the Jaws of Hakkon. We lost a researcher, ser. I fear one of the other scouts has gone to seek them out for vengeance."

Cullen's brow furrowed. "We must find them, before they're lost as well."

"It's not him I fear for, ser." It was clear Harding meant something in her words as her eyes flicked to me.

Cullen dismissed himself from the warriors and waved for Harding and I to join him. "Speak plainly, Lace," his voice dipping so only we would hear.

"Grandin, ser. He's a mage," Harding explained, her eyes flicking to me again, "The rage in his eyes…I worry what might happen."

Cullen and I exchanged a glance, understanding what she was implying. "We need to find him," I said.

Cullen nodded. "Ready the Battalion. We leave in fifteen."

Notes:

+ This meeting with Stone-Bear hold happens prior to the Jaws of Hakkon storyline. I wanted to introduce both Stone-Bear and the Hakkonites so when/if we visit them in the future, they have an established connection that would make the Inquisition's presence in the Basin and interacting with Stone-Bear more plausible. If a camp/scouts are already there, the professor coming to the Inquisition in order to follow-up his research into Ameridan makes more sense.

+ I love the Avvar. I think they're fascinating and kind of hope we deal more with them in DA4. While Meira and Cullen would not be particularly comfortable with how they practice magic (Cullen more so), I do think Meira is reaching a point of desperation for answers. She would listen to the experience of another mage, if only to gain information.

+ I am adding in some events from the Jaws of Hakkon storyline as I do feel that some of the quests from that DLC were not what the Inquisitor should be dealing with. But they do tie in with the overall story, so it's not just for filler. Also to add in some gratuitous Cullen content—Meira should get to admire her beau in all his awkward and smexy glory from time to time [I'm not sorry ;)].

Thanks for reading! Faves, follows and reviews are always welcome and appreciated!