Fenris pushed open the gates, looking each direction as he did. "It seems like some sort of arena or training grounds?" he suggested, leading the group in.

They walked at a sedate pace, wanting to avoid an ambush. Varric and Nathaniel kept their eyes roving, looking out for traps. Alistair's gaze swiveled back and forth to the walkways above them, a nagging feeling- like an itch he could not scratch- bothering him.

They could all feel it- that little skirmish with the odd dwarves was only the beginning.

Hawke heard the noise before he saw the cause, but it was moving quickly, so he only had a moment to shout that they move before the bronto charged through their ranks. Hearing a cry from Sebastian had him pulling up a barrier, even as Alistair charged over with his shield.

Anders shot up another barrier on the opposite side, as arrows rained down on them from archers lining the walkways. Fenris wasted no time, charging forward, and drawing their attention on the right, as Duran and Nathaniel began returning fire.

Varric provided cover fire for Carver as he ran up the ramp on their left, and Anders called to Hawke to attack, as he pushed more mana into his barrier in order to extend its reach.

Hawke glanced at Fenris, seeing he was down to fighting a single man, and turned to Carver's battle. Aiming carefully, he sent several spirit bolts in rapid succession to the pack of dwarves that jumped back from Carver's wide swing.

With them stunned, Carver's second pass cut them in half, and he whirled around to ensure there were no more hidden. Glaring through the sunshine, he eyed his brother and called, "I had them. You should check on your friend."

Hawke turned, seeing Anders already working on Sebastian.

Saving his mana for the future fights, Anders took one of his small injury kits from his pack, and gave a nod to Varric. Alistair gave Sebastian a piece of leather to put between his teeth, and Varric cut the end off the arrow, and pushed it through the prince's shoulder.

Sebastian grunted at the pain, but quieted quickly as Anders applied the poultice to the wound. He wrapped it loosely, ensuring there was air flow as it would heal rather quickly.

Sebastian pulled the piece of hide from between his teeth with a sigh. "Thank you," he said, already testing the injury as he rotated his shoulder.

"It looks worse than it is," Anders explained, as he placed the extra wrap back in his pack. "Without his armor, he would most likely not have been able to continue."

"This isn't like the Carta at all," Varric complained as he walked back and forth. "They're businessmen!"

"Clearly these dwarves are insane," Fenris said dryly, giving their storyteller a look as the dwarf paced, muttering to himself. "Even more so than Varric."

Varric stopped, and glanced back to the elf. "I heard that," he shot back.

"If we believe what we have heard, then this Corypheus is the one we need to find, the one who ordered these attacks on the Hawkes," Duran spoke up.

Alistair gave him a doubtful gaze, but seemed to agree anyway. "He's bound to go "Mwa-ha-ha!" at some point, I just know it."

"More than likely," Hawke nodded, giving him a smirk.

"But why the need for our blood?" Carver demanded.

"Honestly, why blood at all? Why can't it ever be spit, or a lock of hair?" Hawke answered, falling to humor when he didn't have the answers to give.

Varric's eyebrow rose as he looked at Hawke. "You truly want to encounter a spit mage?" he asked.

Hawke shrugged. "Meh. For variety, sure."

"Find anything Commander?" Alistair asked, and Hawke turned to see Duran examining one of the fallen dwarves.

"Not much," Duran replied. Looking up, he snapped, "Stay back!" to those that were approaching him. "Anyone not already a warden should avoid contact with these men."

"It is the taint then," Anders replied, looking concerned.

"Yes," Duran replied. "Nathaniel, Alistair, Carver, pile the bodies. Anders, will you assist? We don't have time to build them all a pyre, but we should burn the bodies. The last thing we want is a demon inhabiting a tainted corpse."

"Something isn't right," Varric said, though he kept his distance. "And not just because of how they were acting."

"Agreed," Hawke said with a nod. "They remind me of how Carver looked when we were in the Deep Roads." He looked squarely at Duran. "Can you save the others?" he asked.

Duran sighed, and stood, moving closer to Hawke and his men. "Look, I'll be honest. There are things that Wardens keep secret, and it may not be right, but they do it for good reason. Based on what I've seen so far, you all may find out some of those secrets."

"Why not just tell us then?" Hawke asked, frowning.

"It would be no favor to you, brother," Carver said, as he struggled to lift a dwarven corpse. "Being a Warden is about more than the blight sickness. It is about conviction."

"Are you saying that you regret it?" Hawke asked, his chest clutching at the thought.

"No," Carver replied, and Hawke's breath whooshed out in relief. "I was already looking for something though, and I was lucky." He glanced around at the carnage. "This… is different."

"I can tell you that these men have nothing to do with the Wardens," Duran added. "Which means that they are somehow coming in contact with the Blight. Whether it is deliberate from this Corypheus they are serving, I am not certain."

"So there is nothing we can do for them?" Hawke asked, feeling powerless. He didn't like the feeling.

"Even if they would let us, we don't have the necessary supplies," Duran answered, shaking his head slowly. "I am sorry, but death is the only mercy we can give now."

"So be it," Hawke replied. He looked around, seeing the wardens still busy with their task. "Let's take a look around, see what we can find."

"Shout if you find more bodies, but keep your distance," Duran warned. Hawke just gave him a cheeky grin.

Cullen stared at his assistant, wondering if he heard him correctly. He knew the man wasn't joking or playing a prank… after all, a tranquil would never know how to do such a thing.

The man always gave the Knight Captain the creeps, but he knew that it wasn't the tranquil's fault. He was excellent at his work, and Cullen needed the help. He just had to get used to it.

He stood, gathering his sword and shield and buckling them into place as he followed the tranquil from the templar hall into the main part of the gallows. They walked up to what looked like a less than reputable woman, who was scantily dressed, and she turned as they approached.

"Well, it's been awhile, hasn't it?" she asked.

Cullen scrutinized her face, certain that she seemed familiar somehow. "Uh, have we… met then?" he asked, puzzled. He gestured for the tranquil man to leave them, and he bowed and did so immediately.

"I admit, most men don't forget me that easily," the woman said with a smirk, and Cullen stepped back with a frown, determined to keep an easy distance.

"I am sure I don't know what you mean," he replied sourly.

"Yes, I'm sure you don't," she quipped. His frown grew, as he was certain she was making fun of him.

"What do you want?" he asked gruffly.

"I said I would deliver this," she said, holding out an envelope. "It's a letter to your sister, Mia."

Cullen reeled back, shocked, then surged forward, enraged. "How do you know about her?!" he seethed. "What is that?! You would dare to try to use my sister to make threats?"

"Whoa, whoa, calm down," she said, holding her hands up in a placating gesture. "This is exactly what I said… a letter. You and I have a mutual friend named Catarina? She and your sister write to each other. Sounding familiar?"

Cullen stared at the wide-eyed woman his hand still clutching her shirt as he practically held her on the tips of her toes. He grabbed the envelope, crumpling it in his fist as he released her. "I suggest you leave, while I am feeling generous," he sneered. "If I see you again, who knows what I may do."

He was a little surprised to see her eyebrow rise as she studied him, though he didn't let it show. He was expecting fear, but that wasn't what he was seeing.

"Well, I'll be sure to tell Lady Cat how this exchange went," she said quietly, and he frowned again, feeling like he was the one being threatened now. "I'm very glad I insisted on coming in her place." She stepped back, and he saw a blade in her hands, that had obviously been ready to skewer him, should he have tried to harm her.

Again, a familiar feeling rang in his mind, but before he could respond, she turned on her heels and strode out of the Gallows. He watched her leave, wondering if he was right to let her go, though it was obvious she was no mage.

He looked down at his hand, wanting to throw the paper into the nearest brazier, but his morbid curiosity prevented it.

He moved away from prying eyes, and opened the letter, smoothing out the paper as best he could before he started to read.

This… doesn't make sense… he thought, as he finished and then reread it. That harlot must be trying something, though what it could be, I cannot fathom. What would she have to gain by fabricating this?

He returned the letter to the envelope, and against his better judgement, slipped it under his armor and into his tunic. He needed to think, he needed answers. And with a tranquil assistant that wouldn't lie to him, he thought his office the best place to get both.

"You see this Hawke?"

Garrett looked over, seeing most of his friends gathered around some sort of stone. He walked over, to see what the fuss was about, and saw what appeared to be some sort of monument.

It was chiseled down with a metal plate attached, that held engraved words. He looked closer, then read out loud.

"One watcher each generation will be chosen from the Warrior Caste. He will stand guard until his death. Only the constant vigilance of the Stone's Children can keep the foulness of Malvernis at bay.

"The burden of living in exile beneath the sun is terrible, but this sacrifice, this Amgeforn, will ensure the sanctity of the Stone forever.

"Valos Atredum."

"How many generations of warriors stood guard here do you think?" Sebastian asked, his voice quiet out of respect for the fallen.

"Thinking that way makes me nervous," Varric muttered.

"Interesting," Hawke said. "It's obviously not something well known, since Varric never heard of it before."

"We could ask Duran," Varric suggested. "Perhaps he knows. Though more likely, it is buried in the records in Orzammar, and long forgotten by its people."

Making their way back towards the wardens, Hawke could hear Fenris talking about a locked gate up ahead. Duran spent a few moments rifling through pockets until he found a large ornate key, and tossed it to the elf.

"We're right behind you," Duran called to Hawke. "Anders, a fireball if you would?"

Hawke followed after Fenris, chortling as he heard Nathaniel call, "Put some mana into it Blondie!"

"Hey, don't you call me that!" came the response, but another, larger fireball was shot out moments later.

Fenris opened the gate, leaving the key inside the lock as he did. He pushed both sides open, as he waited for the others to join him. Varric and Sebastian look the lead, checking the new area for traps.

"Another one of those plaques!" Varric called out.

"What plaques?" Duran asked Hawke, as he came up behind them.

Hawke took a minute to explain what they had found previously, and Duran shook his head once he was done. "I've never heard of this place, nor Malvernis. Though that is from the ancient tongue. I can't translate it accurately, but I know it is something truly terrible."

"Well that makes sense, since they had someone guarding it throughout generations," Hawke replied. "And the surrounding buildings make sense now too. There were obviously people living here. Those look like homes, and these ahead seem more like barracks or something like them."

"Agreed," Duran replied, as they joined the others. "Does this plaque give us any more information?" he asked.

"Yeah," Varric replied, and was uncharacteristically quiet.

"Don't leave us in suspense, Varric," Hawke said with a grin.

Varric gestured to Sebastian, who shrugged, and started reading.

"We called it Malvernis. The Pestilent One. It devoured thaigs, turning our fairest work into a noxious waste. It consumed living warriors, turning their bodies to slime, and when its hunger was not abated, it consumed the bones of our ancestors."

"Hmm, so even worse than I thought," Duran murmured.

"Keep going Seb," Hawke said.

"Foulness came from its touch, poison and filth and desecration. It threatened even the Stone itself. The Shapers bound it. Chained in lyrium stained with the blood of a hundred warriors. But within the orb, it hungered, it waited.

"We carried it here, to the wasteland of the surface, where it can threaten nothing of value, The Stone will live. The Stone must live. We have sworn to defend it from the Foul One at any price."

"So the dwarves had no way of killing it, and chose to… what? Lock it away?" Varric asked incredulously. "And it took a hundred warrior lives to do it?!"

Hawke saw a look pass between the wardens, and he cleared his throat. "Thoughts, Duran?" he asked gravely.

Duran looked torn, but eventually he nodded. "I was thinking that this sounded similar to a blight… though many times worse. Even archdemons can be killed, though it is no easy task. This…" he stopped, a pained expression of disgust on his face, as he looked away.

"Poison, filth, desecration… that sounds like the taint to me," Nathaniel added quietly.

"But why are they wanting our father's blood- our blood?" Carver asked pointedly. "Do these Carta dwarves have anything to do with this ancient horror? It could just be a coincidence."

All the men in Hawke's crew shook their heads, and Duran, Nathaniel and Alistair gave Carver a look that asked, Really?! Carver pouted, and turned away, wondering why he even bothered.

"Someday," Hawke said wistfully, "I'll visit a place with no plagues, curses, or ancient horrors. Maybe the beach? That could be nice."

Varric clucked his tongue at his friend's optimism. "The day you go to the beach, is the day an angry horde of demon pirate zombies show up there," he quipped.

Hawke pouted, looking a little too much like Carver, and the others quickly changed the subject.

"But it does seem as though this place was built to be a home for warriors, doesn't it?" Alistair asked, as he turned in a slow circle. "There is mining equipment over there, and it doesn't seem to be a part of the fortress."

"True," Anders agreed, nodding. "If the wardens took over this place eventually, they would need a way to provide for the people living here."

"Why would the wardens be here?" Fenris asked. "That plaque spoke of duty and sacrifice made by dwarven warriors to guard this. That is not something that they would have abandoned."

"If this ancient horror has anything to do with the blight, I'd wager the wardens made sure to involve themselves," Duran answered him. "Nothing we like more than butting in and taking over when the taint is involved."

Hawke chuckled. "I'm not sure the other wardens view it that way…" he said mirthfully.

"Well…" Duran replied, a smirk spreading on his face. "I haven't exactly fit in with my brothers in Weisshaupt."

He turned back to Fenris, serious again. "If I am right, than it is likely that the wardens offered to take the duty from them, most likely in exchange for aid during blights. The warden treaties are ancient after all- and we merely assumed they were written due to the original wardens ending the first blight. However it could be something such as this."

Fenris nodded, finding it logical. "Whether we are going in search of an ancient horror, or the Carta," he spoke up so that all the others heard, "then we should go this way." He pointed forward, towards the large fortress.

Cullen looked at the parchment in disbelief.

He swallowed, trying to gain his composure, but eventually he just waved the tranquil away, replaying the man's words in his mind. He was having a hard time accepting, even with the evidence in front of him.

"Formerly I served the Knight Lieutenant, when he was informed of tragic news that you, the Knight Captain, received from home. It was affecting your person so grievously that the Knight Commander felt she needed to take action, as stated in her letter to the Lieutenant."

"What action?" Culled had asked, his thoughts swimming, trying not to remember the depths to which he plummeted when his friend Cat, had died. He didn't even know the particulars- how or when- he only could recall coming back to the Gallows, feeling as if his world had fallen apart.

Eventually, when he had been able to think clearly again, the others had explained it all to him.

"The Knight Commander felt, and the Lieutenant agreed that the only way to help you, was to increase your daily intake of lyrium," the tranquil intoned

Cullen looked down at the parchment again, the records of lyrium deliveries to his office over the past month, noting that in the past two weeks, his own dose had increased minutely each day until it was nearly half again as large as before, with an double dose that he had requested on the day of her death. That, he could almost understand, and forgive himself for- but the other?

Small enough of a change each day so that I wouldn't notice, he thought with cold fury. But why?! He wasn't ignorant of the effects of lyrium, and had been strict in his moderation of the drug. It, like many other things in the world of templars, was a necessary tool, but easily abused.

After the events of the fall of the circle in Fereldan, he had suffered through hellish nightmares for months before finally agreeing to use lyrium to help ease his mind, but only sparingly. Eventually, leaving Fereldan was the only way he felt he could possibly be of use as a templar again.

Now, apparently something so bad had happened to him that the Knight Commander had taken it upon herself to not only increase his dependence on the infernal substance, but to also keep it from him. He struggled to recall the horrific event, thinking that surely an accidental death he would eventually be able to cope with, without the use of outside substances.

He felt as if he were missing something… something vital that seemed within his grasp, and yet he was unable to hold it.

His eyes fell on a crumpled envelope that he had received only an hour earlier. "I admit, most men don't forget me that easily," the woman had said… He glanced uneasily at the letter. It felt eerily like something Cat could have written… but that was impossible…

He knew he could get no further answers there, and throwing the ledger down, he stormed out of his office, and headed to find the Knight Commander.

"There!"

The group looked to where Nathaniel pointed, already loosing an arrow after the fleeing dwarf. They were quick to give chase, scattering in all directions at the shout of "trap!" from Varric.

Hawke rolled and came up on his knees, panting. He couldn't believe that they had fallen for such an obvious trap. He didn't hesitate any longer, flinging spells at the dwarves that were spilling from the barrack style buildings around him, as well as the charging brontos that were set loose.

He looked back, seeing that the gate they had come through had been closed behind them, and he assumed that they were now locked in here.

No sense holding back now… he thought, building his mana in his fist. He stood, running for the building, flinging out his hand, and creating a wall of ice to block the door, preventing any others from emerging.

"That bronto is mine!" he heard Duran shout, even as he saw the dwarf running forward with his daggers out. He watched for a moment, intrigued, since the hero seemed to only use his crossbow. Then he shook himself, and looked around for the next biggest threat.

"Nathaniel! Rain of arrows!" Sebastian shouted, a fist full of arrows in his grip, as he tilted his bow up towards the sky.

"Everyone back!" Nathaniel added hastily, shooting his own arrows into the sky.

Anders glanced around the battlefield, making sure his group was out of harm's way, when he saw a crackle of light in Hawke's hand as he raised it towards the sky. Anders smirked, seeing instantly what he was doing, and decided to add his own sparks to the shower.

The dwarves understood easily from the shouts that arrows were going to fall on them, and most ran for cover, though those with shields held them up for protection. Unknowingly, this made them living rods for the lightning that came right after.

Hawke and Anders smirked at each other as the warriors of their enemy were felled in one attack.

"Impressive," Fenris told Hawke, who nodded.

"Hey, what about me?!" Anders grumbled.

"What about you?" Fenris asked, nonplussed, and Anders spluttered, then grumbled as he moved forward.

Hawke chuckled, as he moved to Fenris. "You really enjoy making him angry, don't you?" he asked.

Fenris shrugged. "Cat's not here to stop me," he explained. "Besides, he makes it too easy, so desperate for approval."

"I would think you would be the one who understands," Hawke said, keeping his tone light and quiet so that others couldn't hear. "After all, he was told all his life that he is wicked, and his powers a curse. That the only worth he had was what the templars gave him. Sound familiar?"

Hawke moved on, letting that thought sink in. In actuality, he thought the competition between the two was more a testament of their friendship then anything, but he knew that it was a precarious edge that they held on to, and Cat was usually the reason that they stayed on this side of it.

And he wanted to help keep them on his side of the edge, so sue him.

Without their warriors, the Carta group was easily defeated, and Duran sent the non-wardens ahead once again, not wanting them in contact with the tainted bodies more than necessary.

Hawke roamed, seeing a stairway that led to another section of barracks. He gave Fenris, Varric, and Sebastian a nod, and they followed after him. There wasn't much to be found, besides a health potion or two, but every little bit helped, so they added the potions to their belts.

Walking back out of the room, Hawke turned North, and found a single room at the end of the path. He was stopped by a low whistle, but didn't have a chance to turn to ask, as he saw the chamber.

It was large, yes, but about the size of his home, no bigger. It was surrounded by a chasm, that he couldn't even see the bottom of. He could see a stone bridge connected to it, but couldn't tell where the bridge was coming from, but it was obviously far below where they stood.

The outside was ornate- It was round in shape, and encircled by massive statues of dwarven warriors. He thought it likely that they represented the warriors that were sacrificed in order to contain it. He could see the light of magic coming from the mouths of statues- though he couldn't tell what they were.

"Well, that seems like the place to imprison an ancient horror," Varric said.

"The magic is potent," Fenris grumbled. "I can feel it even from this distance."

"If everything we read was true, that amount of pure lyrium and blood sacrifice equal a massive amount of magic," Hawke agreed.

"That is our destination, isn't it?" Sebastian asked, steeling himself. "This is much more exciting than the Chantry."

"That's not surprising," Varric muttered. He turned to glance up at Hawke. "We're not going there, right Hawke? I mean, why try to bring you or Junior here if whatever-it-is was free already? I think it more likely we just need to take care of the Carta, and leave that place alone."

"Sounds logical…" Hawke agreed with a nod.

Varric slumped, crestfallen. "Which of course means, there's no chance it will be that easy."

Hawke glanced down, a sad smile on his face. "Well, let's check this last room, and head back to the others," he announced.

They found the wardens waiting for them, the five of them looking uncertainly at the rounded prison's roof- the rest blocked by other buildings.

Duran turned as they came back up the stairs. "Find anything?" he asked.

"A few potions, and a scout report," Varric reported. "It hinted that these buildings were part of a Grey Warden fortress that was abandoned after the Free Marches split from Tevinter."

"That long ago?" Anders asked. "That was like, what… before the Divine Age?" He looked to Duran. "If there was something imprisoned here, the Wardens wouldn't have abandoned it, would they?"

"No," Duran shook his head. "However, they would happily make it appear that way, to keep others away. I doubt we'll ever know for certain."

Hawke sighed. "Let's keep going," he suggested. "I hate to admit it, but I'm really only here to get the Carta off my back. I'm not interested in digging into history of the Wardens."

"Actually, I appreciate that," Duran said with a smile. "Let's go."

They continued to follow the main path through the buildings, fighting with the dwarves when attacked, trying to get information when possible, but continually coming up empty.

At the end of the path, there was a large set of metal doors. Fenris and Hawke moved forward in haste, jumping back at Sebastian's cry. A heated battle ensued, with Anders healing Hawke's side- a large gash given from the spike trap that barely missed skewering him.

Once the dwarves were dead, Hawke could hear the conversations around him. He heard Sebastian say, "Maker, forgive your children."

Duran, curious, asked, "You talking about them," he pointed to the bodies that Nathaniel and Alistair were piling, "Or us?"

Sebastian looked down at him, then back to the sky where he prayed. "Both," he said quietly.

"So how exactly did Hawke get injured and you not, Broody?" Varric asked, Hawke's attention swerving. "You were right in the middle of that trap."

"He cheated," Hawke accused, pointing at the elf, who looked abashed.

"Cheated?" Varric asked, smirking at Hawke. "How exactly could-" he stopped, his mind whirling. "No way…" he said in awe, looking at the elf. "You went all glowy?" he asked.

"Glowy?" Fenris repeated skeptically.

"You know, like how you put your hand into people!" Varric explained. "That is amazing! Is that new, because I've never seen you do that before!"

"I hate to diminish your opinion of me, but it was instinctual," Fenris explained, looking embarrassed. "I didn't realize I had done it until it was over."

"Well, still amazing," Varric replied. "And good job getting Hawke out of there, before he got a spike through the chest."

"Yes, thanks for that," Hawke chirped, from where he lay on the ground, exhausted from the healing.

Fenris didn't reply, the feeling that he owed Hawke much more than a single rescue would cover. He'd continue to do all he could for the man, until he felt his debt was repaid.

Hawke took a deep breath, deciding he felt well enough to continue. He stood, ignoring the shakiness in his legs. "Here we go," he said, as he moved down the stairs towards the door.

Cullen shut the door to his office, resisting the urge to punch the wall. He moved over to his chair, and slumped down in it.

That was fruitless… he thought, as his head began to throb. He knew the Knight Commander would not appreciate his questions, but he had honestly thought she would give him answers when confronted. But no.

"What brought this on, Captain?" she had glared at him, impatient at his interruption.

He had explained the change in his lyrium, and his concerns, which she waved away without consideration. "I am in charge of all the mages and templars in Kirkwall," she reminded him. "It is my duty to know what my men need, even when they cannot see it themselves."

"I just want to remember what this tragedy entailed, Knight Commander…" he started, and she interrupted him.

"So you can fall into despair yet again?" Meredith looked at him incredulously. "For a man that does not want more lyrium, that seems the foolhardy move."

"Well, I suppose…" he began, and stopped as she gestured him out of her office.

"You must trust me, Cullen," she said as she practically pushed him out. "I can tell you that you lost her to the mages." He turned, looking at her in surprise. "That is all I will say on the matter, for your own good."

Then she shut the door in his face.

The lieutenant knew nothing either, Cullen sighed as he scrubbed his gloved hands over his face. All I have is vague statements, nothing to help me understand. What did she mean by lost to the mages? Cat never did fear them as she should have…

He looked up at the knock on his door. "Enter," he called.

His assistant entered, carrying a tray that held a crust of bread and some fruit, along with a small wedge of cheese. And a small glowing bottle.

His lyrium.

He looked away, uncertain. He warred with himself, not wanting the lyrium, but already feeling the pull of it- the need of it.

He looked up at the man, the angry red of the sunburst brand on his forehead standing out in stark contrast to his light skin. He knew the man had been a part of the mage underground, but he couldn't be angry, he only felt pity.

"I'm sorry… but I don't believe I know your name," Cullen said hesitantly. He expected the man to be surprised to be asked, but as with all tranquil there was no such emotion.

"My name is Hardal, Knight Captain," the man replied.

"Hardal…" Cullen worried over what to say next, knowing that his assistant might very well be questioned to ascertain his Captain's state of mind. "Do you know anything about the effects of lyrium?" he asked.

"Raw lyrium can cause internal hemorrhaging in close proximity, or madness otherwise. It can also physical calamities such as deafness, memory loss, and nausea. Once refined in liquid or powdered form, lyruim is safe for use," came the reply, sounding like a report.

"But safe for how long?" Cullen murmured to himself.

"There is no generally accepted time frame," Hardal said, his voice without inflection. "Though most circle mages and templars claim that lyrium is the cause for senility, or addled minds in the older members of the order."

Cullen startled at this, not expecting the addition of circle mages. "The circle mages claim this?" he clarified.

Hardal nodded succinctly. "There is a consensus that it is deserved for the fear and imprisonment of the mages, I recall, though I do not understand the distinction now."

"Thank you Hardal," Cullen said, not wanting to get any further involved in the conversation. "You may go."

The tranquil nodded, and left the room, leaving Cullen stewing over the information. It was similar enough to the talk he had always heard in the circle tower.

The official stance was that lyrium was the Maker's creation, was the essence of all creation, and a tool given so that the templars could resist and dispel magic, in order to do the Maker's will.

But he had heard the older templars talk of it as if they were obsessed, and he had seen the way their eyes seemed to cloud over, how little things seemed to slip away from their memories.

He wrote it all out, his desires, his fears, his reservations, and felt better, though still unsure of what course to take.

He looked at the glowing liquid in revulsion, getting to his feet. How can I serve as a templar without it?! he thought. But how can I just blindly follow, when I fear I am losing my mind?

He paced back and forth, eventually putting the small bottle into his travel kit with the powdered lyrium. He wasn't sure yet what he would do, but he knew he couldn't decide just yet.

Little did he know, he would be back, desperately downing the bottle before the day was over.