WARNINGS: Violence and Gore

MEIRA

"What happened, Harding?" Cullen questioned as we exited the Hold.

I had us hidden within the Fade, our group smaller than it had been, though still comprising the majority of the Battalion. Cullen had requested their presence in the case that we were dealing with an abomination. Both for the training exercise and for the templars to be present should things get out of hand. Harding was leading us back into the forest proper to where they had found a decent spot to set up the Inquisition's future camp.

"They came out of nowhere, ser," she began, "Though they must have been following us nearly the whole time. The Thane had sent some of her hunters with us. We were all disguised, but…well, a dwarf to an Avvarian? Pretty sure they saw through that. Should've climbed up on one of their shoulders; that probably would've been more believable. As soon as we got any distance between us and the Stone-Bear hunters, they attacked. The researcher, Jace Turbot, spotted something that got him really excited. He mentioned the first Inquisitor, Ameridan, before he…died."

"I remember," Cullen stated, "Part of Gaspard and Celene's show of friendship to us. University students to aid in our research and restoration of historical artifacts lost or destroyed in the fighting. Helisma requested his presence in order to gather more information on the Basin. Do you think the Jaws of Hakkon were protecting whatever it was?"

"Hard to say," she stated, "It could've been that or they just saw their opportunity. Seems we know why not many people have traveled here and lived to tell about it."

"Why would Grandin abandon his post for Turbot?"

"They were close friends, and Jace…he was unarmed," Harding's face turned dark. "I'd promised Helisma no harm would come to the boy so long as he stayed with us. Grandin and Turbot became quick friends on the road. Something in him just snapped and I worry he's going to do something stupid. We've all lost someone—either at Haven or when Skyhold was attacked. I just don't think Grandin could take another friend dying."

Cullen shifted on his feet. "I understand," he murmured before clearing his throat. "As you said, Grandin is a mage. Why didn't he join the Battalion or work with the other mages at Skyhold?"

"I didn't know before now, ser," Harding explained, "He let it slip while we were scouting today. Jace and he were discussing the Hakkonites' weapons, what they might be enchanted with and Grandin spoke like he knew. I was going to have him report to you and the Lieutenant-Commander, but the Hakkonites attacked."

"Maker's breath, how many other soldiers are hiding such a secret?" Cullen growled, "And why?"

"How many of us do you think fear we'll be right back in a Circle when all of this is over, Commander?" Solana questioned, "Why wouldn't mages who can hide it not take the chance to do so? And then slip away before they go back to their prisons?"

"That will not be the Inquisition's fate," Cullen promised.

"The attack happened near the river," Harding stated, "Grandin snuck away while we saw to Turbot's body."

We came upon the remains of the pyre, the other scouts and the hunters from Stone-Bear standing guard around it. Uncloaking us from the Fade, we fanned out to investigate. Harding questioned the scouts as we fanned out looking for signs of Grandin. I noticed Cullen take a piece of parchment from his cuirass, he now back in his armor and looking far more comfortable, and scratch something down. I could only assume it was the list he carried of all those who'd fallen and he wroteTurbot's name in order to write to his loved ones. I looked around, crossing the river when I found nothing on the bank where the pyre burned. On the opposite bank, there were footprints in the mud.

"Harding!" I called.

Lace came running to where I pointed, she kneeling to the ground and studying the footprints. Her forest green eyes flicked about, her face pulled in concentration and auburn hair falling loose from the intricate braid she had it in. There was sweat on her brow, the marshy environment lending to muggy evenings as the sun began to dip towards the horizon. I waved off the buzzing insects trying to nibble on my ear, doing my best to ignore the sweat dripping down my back.

Her fingers traced the outline of a few of the footprints. "Inquisition boots, standard issue. Wearing them beneath the furs." She looked up to pick out the matching prints from among the others. "It's Grandin."

"Harding's found a trail!" I shouted to the others.

Quickly, they fell in behind as I followed Lace, keeping us hidden within the Fade once more. The footprints led us further into the forest, along the riverbank. As we drew closer to what appeared to be the remnants of a camp, I felt a thinning in the Veil. Something was wrong.

"There!" Harding pointed.

Ahead of us, we could just make out someone leaning against a boulder. As we got closer…no. They weren't just someone; the garish paint indicated a Hakkonite. And she wasn't leaning against the boulder, she'd been impaled to it. The glow of the ice spell still upon her sword where it cleaved through her chest. She was clawing at it, eyes frantic even as her blood was spilling out faster the more she moved. Upon the ground, however, was more blood than just one person's body held. Yet only the Hakkonite was near.

"Let me help you," I offered once we were closer, healing magic glowing in my hands.

The Hakkonite spit at me, a horrible coughing fit following the action. Blood was on her lips now, she gasping for breath, yet the sound was full and wet. I sensed it then, the blade had pierced or severed a lung, blood now pooling in her airways slowly causing her to drown in it. There would be no saving her, only easing her passing. But despite the pain I could feel her enduring, despite my offer, she looked at me with hatred.

"May your blood be upon our blades, lowlander," she hissed, and I recognized her voice from the night before, "You had no business here. I spilled blood for Hakkon, but he spurned my offering. My blood pours as a better one."

"What happened?" Cullen demanded. "Who attacked you?"

Fear flickered in her eyes, even as they began to dim. "He was dead. I'd gutted him right and proper." She coughed again, gasping. "Blood everywhere. But then he…he stood. And it…wasn't him anymore."

Cullen looked at me, his jaw clenched. "This isn't good."

I shook my head. "No. The Veil is thin here. And there's far more blood spilt than one human body holds."

Cullen looked to the templars with us, including Barris, Henry, Asaala, Laren and Amelia. "Ready yourselves."

I tried once more to help the Hakkonite woman. "Leave it, lowlander! I was bested because Hakkon allowed it. My death is deserved."

I withdrew my hands and walked away from her, feeling her pain and the fear in her mind as raw as if it were my own. She let out a few more shuddering breaths; each one fuller than the last until she was spluttering, gasping, but no air could pass into her lungs. A few heartbeats thudded and then she was gone. My eyes had been closed as I'd kept moving forward, trying to put distance between the dying woman and I. As her soul slipped past the Veil, I opened my eyes and gasped.

Dread was like ice in my veins as I took in the scene before me. All around were the mutilated and charred corpses of Hakkonites. Scorch marks pocked the ground, blood was splattered everywhere. Some of the victims were only half-burned, part of their body still intact while the other was charred down to the bone.

Standing within the carnage, I could sense what had happened. The spirits just beyond the Veil whispering of it. I listened to the whispers, followed to where they were strongest. One of the bodies had a dagger sticking out of its chest. I had not known that Barris was beside me until he bent down to examine the body.

"An Inquisition-issued dagger," he stated as he pulled the dagger from the body.

Harding came to stand by him, taking the dagger. "You idiot, Grandin."

"He's not here," Cullen observed. "So where is he?"

Harding pointed further along the riverbank. "His footsteps continue that way."

Asaala drew her blade from where it had been sheathed down her back. "As do the bodies."

"Maker," Cullen cursed under his breath.

I looked at him, gauging how he was handling the situation. All the evidence pointed to what waited at the end of this, if Grandin wasn't dead. The last abomination he'd faced had been Ella and he'd faltered. What would happen this time?

He met my eyes as if sensing my thoughts. "No matter what we find, I want you to try. If you can. You weren't there when Ella fell. I wished you had been. Perhaps then…there would've been hope."

Could I do as he'd hoped? Would I be able to help this Grandin? "Or will you fail? And prove to him that there is only one way to deal with an abomination? Only one way to deal with you?"

The carnage only grew worse the further up the riverbank we traveled. More burned bodies, many beyond recognition, others burned so that their bodies had melted where they'd been cowering in fear. A few had burned so hot and fast that they were no more than silhouettes of ash upon the rocks.

It was like that all along the river until we came to the mouth of a cave, more dead Hakkonites at its threshold. Ghilani bared her teeth, her ears erect as we approached the cave. I felt out through the Fade towards the cave. Within, I sensed him—sensed them. Grandin was no longer simply mortal, but more. He was not fully corrupted, but I did not know if the two could be separated. Beyond them, I sensed someone else and with them, another spirit.

"He's inside," I murmured, "And he's not alone. He's possessed, but there's someone else in there."

Cullen turned to Harding. "Harding, stay here."

"But—"

"That is an order, Scout," he barked. Lace was angry, I could tell, as her face hardened and lips pressed together, but she didn't argue further. Cullen turned to the Battalion. "I want a few of you to keep watch within the mouth of the cave. Stay hidden should any more of these Hakkonites appear, but stay alert. The rest of you: come with us, but do not get too close until the Lieutenant-Commander gives the order." He looked to me, I surprised. "This is what the Battalion was created for and you are its leader. I shall follow your lead."

"Lieutenant," Lace called to me and I met her forest green eyes, "He's a good kid. Bring him back?"

I swallowed hard. "I'll try." I looked to Cullen. "Let me talk to him first."

He gave a sharp nod before I led us further into the cave. It was eerily silent within, more dead along the path. I had to cover my nose as the air was foul with the stench of burning flesh. Moisture dripped from the stalactites, the sound bringing to mind dark memories of that cell and the water dripping down the stone walls. I fought a shudder and forced my mind to focus.

A little way into the cave, the floor changed from natural rock to carved stones. The stones gave way to a large room, the walls made of the same blocks. Torches were within, illuminating the room. The architecture was unfamiliar to me, but the structure was a great culvert, for at its center sat a metal grate which had water flowing beneath it. More charred bodies were inside and among them—

"Grandin?" Cullen called, his voice purposefully gentle.

Grandin turned towards us, away from the other person within. He was an elf, young, a little taller than myself and the points of his ears were peeking out of his chin length, blond hair. His skin was pale, unnaturally so, in the firelight. His eyes flicked to the two of us and then between us as he spotted the others. I sensed the spirit within him grow tense, but Grandin seemed at ease as he began to speak.

"Commander," he greeted with a salute, his voice full of embarrassment. "I've abandoned my post, haven't I? I had cause. Just missing the permission part." As he spoke, he seemed to do so with difficulty. "Ran into one of the other Avvar, not a Hakkonite."

The other person stepped around Grandin. She was a young woman, most likely no older than Grandin himself. Dark hair and eyes were framed by a wary face. She wore the leathers and furs of Stone-Bear Hold. "You should not be here, lowlanders."

"Who are you?" I asked. "Why are you here?"

"If I tell you, will you leave us be?" We made no answer and she let out a huff. "I am Sigrid Gulsdotten, Augur's Apprentice. I exiled myself from Stone-Bear Hold. As I was gathering food along the riverbank, Hakkonites were fleeing from something. They broke around me like water 'round the rocks in a river. Normally, they are not so far west. Behind them, this elven boy charged, fury like no other in his wake. I sensed that he was sky-touched, sensed one of the gods within him, so I followed." Her eyes flicked to Grandin, who was unnaturally still. "When I came upon him, he nearly killed me as well, but stopped at the last moment."

"You're not them," Grandin spoke, "There would've been no purpose to your death."

"We know about your friend, Jace," I began, my voice soft, "I am sorry."

The spirit within him stirred at that, Grandin's face twisting with rage and sorrow. When he spoke, I could hear the whisper of another voice behind his own. "He was studying at the university. Those Hakkon devils." His voice changed again, softer, the other voice quiet. "Jace wasn't a soldier—he wasn't even armed. After this, he was going to show me Val Royeaux. I've never been. I thought we might…" He cut himself off and I felt the Veil shift. The spirit stirred again and the room began to grow hot. "I can't let this happen."

"Again, Grandin, I'm sorry," I stated, before looking to Sigrid, "Did you help him fight the Hakkonites?"

"We have an oath." Sigrid shook her head. "Hakkonites lay burned throughout the forest. I followed the trail of dead here. The boy was inside, finishing his work when I found him."

Grandin's eyes met mine and in them burned a darkness that was not mortal. His face stretched into an unnatural smile, full of malice. The boy looked grotesque as he let out a spiteful laugh. As he did, that other voice echoed off the stones. I felt Cullen tense beside me. But Grandin collected himself before he spoke again.

"I wasn't a soldier either, not before this. I lived in the Circle," he looked between Cullen and I, "I apologize for lying. I wouldn't have been a good fit in the Battalion. Never had the skill for combat spells, so I picked up a sword and joined the main army. I wanted to fight for the Inquisition. The Jaws of Hakkon almost ended that, too." He began panting for breath, his body shaking, as if he was so full of rage he could hardly speak. When he did, he was practically spitting the words. "I was bleeding out when it saw me. It knows what I know." His struggle grew worse, the spirit within stirring and I felt their essences melding. Rage. When Grandin spoke again, his voice was no longer his own. "They will not kill more people. Not like Jace. I will protect them, Lieutenant."

"You've been twisted, my friend," Purpose's voice spoke beside me, drawing Grandin's gaze. "The boy had purpose, cause, justification for seeking the blood of his foe. You wished to help him see it through. But you should have let him be when he fell. He's too weak to keep from corrupting you."

A baleful light shone in Grandin's eyes at those words, the irises disappearing. It was the voice of the spirit that addressed Purpose. "Too weak? He chased after his enemy with valor; with the intent to protect. How is that weakness?" Grandin's face twisted again. "And who are you to judge me, Purpose? Did you not do the same?"

"He's too far gone, Dreamwalker," Sigrid spoke.

I stared her down. "And you? I sense the spirit in you."

"She is the abomination I spoke of," Purpose murmured.

"I am bound, worthy one, not possessed," Sigrid spit at Purpose. "My will is my own, just as my guiding teacher's will is his own." Her eyes met mine. "Just as your will is your own and all the spirits bound to you are theirs. The gods walk with you, not through you. It is the same for me." She gestured to Grandin. "Their will is one and the same. There is no hope for them."

"I do not believe that," I argued. "I cannot. I remain separate because of my abilities as a dreamer mage. Because of magical armor. How do you?"

"That is not your business, lowlander," Sigrid hissed.

"I spoke with your Augur. He told me of your ways. How your young mages are bonded with a spirit until your teaching is done. Unless the mage proves too weak to be without their teacher. They are watched for corruption and should it occur, they are killed." I looked her over. "Is that why your teacher remains? Why you are in exile?"

When she did not answer, I reached out with my abilities, sensing her and the spirit within her. Their bond was akin to Grandin and his spirit, but where Grandin's possession was malevolent and twisted, Sigrid's possession was…amicable. Two separate melodies but where they connected was a harmony, neither melody vied for dominance. And I dared to say there was love in the notes. I slipped past the Veil to find the spirit, time on the mortal plane slowing.

"I greet you, Fadewalker," the spirit spoke. He was a handsome spirit and had made himself appear as young as Sigrid. His eyes were teal, his features mimicking the Avvar. He flashed a gentle smile before speaking. "Sigrid tried to fulfill her oath to release me, but when it came time, she was unable. I am a Spirit of Knowledge. My purpose is to teach and to do so with kindness and patience. I have been at Sigrid's side since she was a small child. I helped her to lose her fear of her magic, taught her how to wield it to aid her people.
"But even amongst the Avvar, those with magic can sometimes be outcasts. Sigrid is lonely and I…care for her. To release me, she knows, is for me to leave her permanently. For her ritual of Thanks-giving removes me from her. It must be this way so that I may remain uncorrupted and can return again to teach a new pupil." He let out a sigh. "I will do as she wishes. Stay or go. But I love her too much to force either choice upon her. And she must choose."

"But you know what you should do, Knowledge," Purpose challenged, "How you should guide her."

Knowledge looked away. "I do. As does she. She loves her people and longs to fulfill her role as their augur when the time comes. But it means sacrificing the only true friend she has ever known."

"What is this ritual of Thanks-giving?" I questioned.

"It is a rite. Avvar magic, Fadewalker. Too complex for me to explain in the limited time we have as the true abomination is swiftly losing its battle. But in essence, it is the mage making the choice to release their spirit teacher—to be free of their possession as you would call it. Those mortals and spirits joined who have done so on amicable terms are able to separate, but the host must choose to let go. Not all mortals are willing to make that choice.
"All a spirit, benevolent or malevolent, needs is for the mortal to want to let them in; once they have allowed it, the only thing that can free them is to choose to exile the spirit before their will is corrupted entirely. Or to have a mage enter the Fade and slay the spirit. A malevolent spirit that is crafty enough and of a strong enough will, can take possession of a mortal and erase their will before such a choice can even be made. A benevolent spirit who has become corrupted by its host will corrupt in turn and both will be lost. And when the joining is done by force? There is no going back. What was is gone."

"But what about spirits of our own making?"

"There is no such thing."

"But—"

"You can influence a spirit. Cause it to become something more complex. As you know, we spirits derive our power from the complexity of our concept host. The more complex the concept, the more powerful. But that concept is influenced by mortals. And a mortal such as yourself? What could your influence bring about?"

"But what about Shame?"

"We are running out of time, Fadewalker," the spirit warned.

"Please, please don't go! I have to know!" I begged.

The spirit flickered. "Careful."

"Forgive me," I apologized, "but please explain."

His teal eyes flicked to Purpose. "Your abilities grant you a kinship to us. While you cannot create a spirit, through you, concepts could converge to make something far more complex than most spirits."

"But Shame was Cullen's doing. Cullen is no mage, no dreamer."

His voice was gentle as he spoke, his face full of sympathy, "Was it?"

It clicked then, a thought that had been gnawing in the back of my mind. A question I did not want to voice. No. No. No! "A fitting punishment. And then you had to go and free him." Panic gripped me. "That can't be true! How would that even be true?!"

"When you entered his mind accidentally in Ferelden," Purpose murmured, "When you touched him."

"I told you. Does he really know? Does he know that you could drive him mad? Does he know that you almost did?" She cackled. "Well, I almost did."

"He had drawn a spirit of contrition to himself, but when you touched him within his mind, you influenced it. You shine like the stars in the Fade, a mighty gem. When you touched him, you drew it in and refracted the spirit. Without your magic to guide it, however, its nature passed through your corrupted facet—which you call Doubt.
"Dispersed by your magic, Contrition mingled with Doubt, reassembling into a powerful concept: Shame. What is shame, but guilt amplified by doubt? To doubt one's worth, one's right to be, one's right to want because of wrongs one has committed?"

My knees gave out and I hit the ground. "I did that to him?" I breathed. 'Foul and corrupt.' Maker, oh, Maker! I looked to Purpose. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Do you still not understand?!" Purpose scolded, his face—Cullen's face—twisted in agitation. "The more you know, the more influence you have upon her! The more you change her. The more complex she becomes!" His gold eyes burned as he looked at me. "If you had known that you had caused it, you wouldn't have helped him or she would have brought something worse about! The less you know, the better!"

"It is because I didn't know that it happened. That I did that to him!" I yelled. "I am a monster!"

"No, you're not," Knowledge cut in, voice gentle, "You are a dreamer. You are akin to spirits. You did not mean to give form to Shame. But then? You saved him from it, used your abilities to influence it into something else. For because you did not know, she could not influence Shame any further. Doubt had already done her work. But you? What did you bring about?"

"Embrace," I murmured, "A Spirit of Grace."

"More than grace. Mercy. Acceptance. Three powerful host concepts converging because of you," Knowledge clarified, "Grace for what he endured, mercy for what he brought about because of it and acceptance of his desire to atone. All things he feels in your loving embrace. Given form through your magic and the armor you now possess. For as much as it empowers you, you empower it. You bring them together."

"I told you," Embrace appeared, "I could not be without you."

"Be silent, Knowledge! You are meddling!"

"You are not a monster, Fadewalker," Knowledge challenged, ignoring Doubt, "You are simply unique. While you cannot create spirits, you can change them. Influence them. Not all dreamers are capable of such, but all dreamers are uniquely touched by the Fade. For you, you can be both the wound and the balm. The means and the end. You can recall a demon back to its original purpose or corrupt a spirit. You are capable of great things, if you'll only allow yourself." His teal eyes burned. "Set aside the doubt. The fear. Become who you are meant to be."

"You cannot be rid of me! I AM YOU!"

"Tell me, do you know what Doubt is? How I am to deal with her?"

"There is not much more I can offer, save this: if Doubt is a spirit you have influenced—unwittingly corrupted, even—what would her original purpose have been? What sort of spirit would have aided you against what is the concept host of doubt? You must discern what is doubt. What is your doubt? What sort of host concept would be the opposing nature of such a malignant purpose?"

"What lay at my heart? At your heart? They can counsel you all they want, in the end, they understand the truth. Just as you do. You must face yourself to mold me. And we both know you cannot do it."

"Don't listen to her," Purpose urged, "You are stronger than she wants you to believe."

"Are you, little Meira? Do you remember yet? Oh, little light, what did you do?"

At her words, the vaguest memory played in the back of my mind. I could not make out any details, but I could feel something. That thing I had drawn back in the clearing near Haven. "Oh my Maker," I breathed, "What did I do?" I looked at them all. "But how? How would I have influenced a spirit prior to breaking the Rite of Tranquility? My dreamer abilities were suppressed by Deshanna's magic."

"It is no different than Shame," Knowledge explained, "Whatever helped to shape Doubt, you drew to yourself in that cell. It was already there. Just like your beloved, once the Rite of Tranquility was broken, once your true magic reemerged, you unwittingly influenced it into something more powerful. All that is left is discerning what it is at your core."

Purpose nodded. "Which is why we cannot guide you further. You have the power to influence what Doubt could become. As it was with Shame. But she will do everything in her power to sway you."

"Because I am you. That is why they cannot help you. For if you fail, if I influence you, what you fear will be unleashed."

"Why are you telling me this?" I questioned her.

"Because you needed me. And when you come to face me, you will remember why. And we both know you will wish to forget once more."

"You must go now, before she brings about ruination for Sigrid and the boy."

With that he pushed me out of the Fade. My head felt like it was splitting, so many pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place, but the most important one—how I dealt with her—stirred fear within my heart. Yet, I knew, I was running out of time to face her. But first, we had to deal with Grandin.

Inhaling sharply, I focused on him. Unlike Sigrid, the song of his possession was not harmonious. It was discordant chords; harsh, sharp. Their individual melodies were unraveling, forgetting their own notes. What notes remained began sounding in a new rhythm, creating a new melody. And that something new was not benevolent.

I looked to Grandin. "I understand that you want to fight, Grandin, but this is not the way. You're corrupting each other."

Grandin turned spiteful again. "Before the spirit came, I was mediocre with my magic. Now? I feel unstoppable. We've seen your power, Lieutenant. We know where it stems from. Why should you alone have such power? What makes you worthy?"

I wish I didn't have this power. More than you know. "Focus, Meira," Purpose called. Purpose. It gave me an idea. "When your purpose is done, will you stop or will the rage take you?" I questioned.

"I will serve your cause, mortal," the spirit stated for Grandin, "I swear it."

"I know you believe that, but you are not meant for this world, Spirit of Purpose. Once the cause with which you were drawn to him is done, you will have no purpose. The corruption will be complete and both of you will be lost. Is that what you seek? It doesn't have to be that way," I pleaded, "Release Grandin, spirit."

The light diminished, Grandin returning as his eyes glared at me. That new song was beating faster, the notes harder, sharper, sounding like rage. Their voices mingled as they scoffed a laugh. "Release? The spirit remains because I want it to. I will protect our people. I want to fight, Lieutenant." 'The host must choose to let go.'

"I cannot allow the corrupted to wander the Basin, Dreamwalker," Sigrid challenged, "I may be in exile, but it is my duty as an Augur. Even if I am an apprentice."

"Do not interfere," I commanded, "You do not release your spirit for selfish reasons as well. Who are you to decide this boy's fate?"

She looked as if I'd slapped her. "H-how do you know that?" She collected herself, turning her staff upon Grandin. "It does not matter, the elf boy is gone!"

"If you stop me, then I cannot stop them. I won't allow it!" Their individual melodies were coming to an end, a single note of each remained. Grandin went to attack us all.

"NO!" I screamed in defiance, fade-jumping towards him, fingers pressing to his forehead at the same time I heard the others shouting my name.

All of us clashed together in an orchestra of discordant chords. It was like Anders, the pain searing through me nearly unbearable. Being near demons was normally painful, but a pain I had learned to focus my way through unless they were particularly powerful. This pain was amplified—like a thousand knives lacerating my skin, screams unending echoing within my mind. It was as if I were drowning within the Fade, unable to make heads or tails of it. I could only think that it was because Grandin and the Spirit of Purpose were melding, twisting into an abomination. Something about the mortal and immortal combining amplified the malevolent force at work. And it rendered me weak.

When I had met Anders, it had been in the physical world, the pain affecting my physical body. But here it was as if their corruption was attempting to infect me as well. With a grunt of effort, I reached out with my magic. I could feel an echo of their individual melodies sounding in my mind. The Spirit of Purpose was easier to reach, its melody turning into a dark harmony as it perverted into Rage. I grasped onto it, a blazing inferno meeting my touch, threatening to burn away all I knew.

"Meira! You must hurry!" Purpose shouted.

I turned towards his voice. I was within a great fire, flames wreathed around me as they were twisting upon themselves, joining into amorphous lava. Beyond it, I saw Purpose. He had his sword and shield in his hands. Alongside him were the others. Prudence, Serenity, Ardor, Perseverance, Charity, Joy, Intent, and Embrace. Shoulder to shoulder they all stood, weapons at the ready as a great cloud of bitterly cold darkness rushed at them.

The inferno that was Rage threatened to overwhelm, its power seeming to be amplified by Grandin's magic. With effort, I tried to soothe that fury with my ice magic, within its coolness a gentle call to its benevolent nature. As I did, I felt beneath the rage and overwhelming grief. At it, a hand reached out from the firestorm and grabbed my wrist painfully. Yanking me further into the flames, I came face to face with Grandin. His eyes were two great baleful lights, his brow furrowed and teeth bared.

"I did not ask for your help," Grandin spit.

"Please, Grandin," I begged, "Let me help. If you don't, they're just going to cut you down."

"I am dead already."

What I had frozen burst forth as blistering lava clawed at me and I screamed in pain. Grandin and the spirit slammed together, melding into one. They were gone. Rage's great talons of fire raked through my mind and I threw myself from the Fade. Reentering my body, I collapsed as Grandin screamed a roar. Above me he was wreathed in flames, the fire dancing upon his skin, but not burning him. His eyes disappeared, only the baleful light of the rage demon shone. Molten lava began pouring from them like tears. Fire erupted in his hands, a firestorm blazing to life.

"I told you!" Sigrid shouted as she hit him with an ice spell, but Grandin only laughed.

Pressing myself to stand and Fade-step away, I growled, "No! I had a chance! I would've succeeded, but Grandin chose. He chose possession. Chose to be an abomination!"

"And why wouldn't I, Lieutenant?" He mocked, his voice now a mix of his own and the demon's. "It's no wonder the world fears us. Look at me! Look at what I can do!" He shot an inferno from his hands as the templars raced ahead of us to slam their shields together. I conjured an ice wall to protect us from the heat of it, but the raw power he now held was beyond what the templars' and my ice wall could shield against. "The Jaws of Hakkon shall know fear—I will sear it into their bones!"

"Then there is only one way to deal with him," Cullen breathed.

"You see?" I met his eyes. Where once there might have been anger, I saw only sorrow. Regret. 'I do so with a heavy heart.' "You helped him get here, Meira," Purpose spoke in my mind, "Acceptance—Grace—is what he needed. He needed Embrace. It wouldn't have been possible without Shame first." I pray you are right.

Cullen looked at me sympathetically, "It was enough that you tried, love. He made his choice. Now, you must lead your men."

With a heavy breath, I turned to the Battalion. "Fire mages, stay back! You'll only bolster his power, but do what you can to protect the others from the firestorm! Barris, Trevelyan, pin him down and rally the others! Asaala, Laren, spell purges! Amelia, cover them and aim for the eyes. Alain, don't let it escape! Rion, Serena, Talwyn, to me!" Summoning ice into my hands, I stooped to the ground and began tracing glyphs as Rion, Solana's sister and the mage from Redcliffe, Talwyn, came to stand at my sides. "Rion, conjure a blizzard to try and tame his firestorm. Talwyn, keep hitting him with a Cone of Cold. Serena, keep him distracted and bottlenecked with ice walls and Winter's Grasp. Buy me time while I create an ice mine. It's going to take everything I've got to freeze him. Once he's frozen, we'll have to hit him all at once! Go!"

In unison, they assaulted Grandin. Templars suppressing his magic, mages attacking with opposing magic. Grandin laughed mockingly, taunting us with the sheer power he now possessed. His fire magic was even hotter than Solana's, which I did not think possible.

Cullen stood over me, shield before him, blocking fireballs while I worked hurriedly on the glyph. I summoned the breastplate, my ice magic bolstered, causing the glyph to be intensely cold. So much so that my fingers were solid ice as I wrote it out.

Selena's ice walls shattered, Talwyn screamed as he went flying towards the mouth of the cave. Rion shouted obscenities at the abomination as he fought to keep his blizzard alive. Asaala and Laren were shouting that they couldn't hold him back much longer. Barris and Henry warned that they were going to use Wrath of Heaven. The heat of Grandin was coming closer. Ghilani whimpered and I told her to go. With effort, I paused the glyph to cast a barrier around those closest to me.

"Talitha!" Cullen yelled.

"Almost there!" I shouted back, "Just a little longer!"

Barris and Henry summoned the great pillar of light that was the Wrath of Heaven. The fighting paused a few heartbeats, Grandin's magic evaporating. I scrambled to finish the glyph in the respite. But it was too brief as only moments later, the firestorm erupted once more—with interest. Rion gave a shout, dropping his staff and clutching one of his hands as it'd been badly burned. Grandin lunged for him, his hand becoming molten lava claws as it swiped at Rion. Rion cast a barrier in the nick of time, but Grandin's power was too much for it. The barrier burst and the force of it knocked Rion off his feet, sending him rolling. Smoke curled off of him where he lay, unmoving.

"You will not stop us!" Grandin roared, "The Jaws of Hakkon must burn!" The flames burned even hotter, all but the fire mages having to retreat for fear of melting.

"Lieutenant!" Barris shouted, "We can't hold him!"

"Talitha!" Cullen urged.

"Only a few more runes!"

Molten lava spurt across the floor, the fire mages racing forward, summoning their own fire to try and absorb the heat. Selena conjured ice wall after ice wall, they melting faster than she could conjure. Talwyn recovered, limping towards the front line.

"Talwyn! Ice arrows!" I shouted.

He nodded before he waved the few templar archers within the Battalion forward. He enchanted their bows and arrows to be covered in ice magic. They released a volley, Grandin roaring in response. A few seconds later, massive fireballs flew overhead. Talwyn and Serena getting an ice wall up just in time, but boiling water splashed on those behind it, hissing against barriers. Grandin's heat was just on the other side of Cullen.

"You will not stop me, Commander," Grandin threatened, "You are too weak."

"TALITHA!"

Sigrid slid along the ground to sit next to me, furs and hair singed, her fingers glowing with magic as she wrote the last few runes. They were archaic, but would finish it. "There!" I hollered as we finished, the glyph glowing with magic as it primed. "MOVE!"

Sigrid Fade-stepped away from Grandin. Cullen turned, arm crashing into my waist, as he scooped me up and threw us away from Grandin. We rolled across the ground, he coming up in a lunge, his shield before him as he protected me with it and his body just as the ice mine exploded. Grandin let out a shout that was cut off as the ice consumed him.

"Now!" I ordered as I pushed myself to my feet and Fade-stepped at Grandin.

Conjuring my spirit blade, I cut through him just as the others did with their own blades. After a heartbeat, what had once been Grandin shattered into a thousand pieces. The Veil thickened once more. Anger and shame burned hot in my chest.

"Andraste's pyre!" I hissed as I stared at the shattered remains of Grandin. "I shouldn't have waited so long. I should've done more. I should've forced him!"

"No, Lieutenant," Cullen said gently, placing a hand on my shoulder, "That would have only made it worse. If revenge is what he sought, he would have found it. Whether on his own and been killed or by summoning another demon and killing more."

"But what if—"

He shook his head. "You cannot dwell on what could have been. It will drive you mad."

I met his eyes. 'When you touched him.' I shook off his hand and walked towards Grandin's remains. Summoning the greave from Ardor, I set it aflame and murmured a prayer on his behalf. That done, I went to Rion whom was already being treated by Sigrid. Solana was seeing to Talwyn and a few of the other injured. Barris directed the templars to cleanse the area and see to gathering what remained of the Hakkonite bodies.

"Is he alright?" I asked Sigrid.

Her dark eyes flicked up to me before focusing on Rion's injuries. "He'll be fine, lowlander. A good burn and a few broken ribs is all." She looked over her shoulder at the lingering flames that were burning away Grandin. She let out a sigh and met my gaze. "You know my shame, Dreamwalker. And the lad reminded me of why it is something to be ashamed of." She searched my face. "But can you understand? I hear lowlander mages see the gods differently. But you're a Dreamwalker, surely…I made no offering. I prepared, I began the spell to release the spirit here with me…" Her voice grew thick. "I could not do it! I have no close companions in the hold! No kin! I cannot lose my only friend."

"I do understand," I admitted, "but I also know that once the spirits who walk with me see their purpose through, I must release them. They may bring me companionship, but I also know the influence I can have upon them. I would not wish to unwittingly corrupt them. You're given a teacher to guide you as a child. You are no longer a child."

She looked away, her voice knowing her argument weak as she spoke, "Some mages need the help of a god all their lives."

"You do not need help, Sigrid, you desire companionship. And the tighter you hold your grip, the more you cling to that desire, the more risk you take."

"The gods change, the gods can die, and yet…" She sighed. "I do not want to lose the one who loves me."

I knelt to her level and hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder. "Truly, I do understand. I understand what it is to be lonely. To be alone. It would be hard to let go of such a friendship."

Her jaw clenched as she held in tears. "It is. Yet I swore an oath. I think the Augur knew. All this time, he knew I never cast the ritual. It is not right to stay in pity. I will confess to him. And seek his advice. I will return with your party to the Hold." She stood and went to Barris, telling him to gather the Hakkonite bodies together at the mouth of the cave, that their Hold would want to see to their funerary rites.

"How'd we do, Lieu?" Rion questioned as he came to, pain lacing his voice. "Not bad for our first abomination?"

"Rion, you got handed your magical rear and then decided to take a nap," Asaala ribbed.

"I meant to do that, you know," he chuckled and then hissed as I began healing his injuries. "Not so much the nap part."

"At least you aren't dead," Henry quipped as he came to stand beside me.

"Would you've wept for me, Trevelyan?"

"I would've danced on your ashes." Henry smirked.

"Aw, you do care, Templar," Rion cracked a grin.

"Is everyone alright?" Belinda Darrow questioned as she led those who'd been posted at the cave's mouth inside.

"That Avvarian woman told us the boy became an abomination?" Briony questioned at her side. "Is it slain?"

"Grandin fell to his grief and rage," I stated as I stood, staring Briony down before looking to the others. They lowered their eyes, humor evaporating. "Can we remember that the abomination was an elven boy only this morning? He lost a friend, as we all have in recent months, and sought revenge. In so doing, he was slain by his friend's murderers. As he lay dying, a spirit offered aid to him. Together, they burned their way through the Hakkonites. And when it was done? He couldn't let go. I tried to help him and the spirit separate, but he did not want my help."

"And this is why we had the Harrowing. The Rite of Tranquility. For such mages as he," Briony stated, chin lifting.

"Templar," Barris barked, "Now is not the time."

Briony shot a glare at Barris. "It is the truth."

"Or does such a thing happen because of the Harrowing? Tranquility?" Solana argued. "We live in fear of our own power, of our ability to become abominations, of one bloody misstep that when we can no longer keep it bottled up we lose control completely. Decades of fear-induced repression coming to a head so forcefully that there is no other alternative?"

"So the only alternative for mages when something grave occurs is to become the very thing the Order teaches us you are?" Briony challenged. "Have you not just proven our argument in your statement?"

Anger flickered in my chest at their bickering. "Enough! A boy lay dead! A boy! He is not some pawn in your arguments!"

"He's dead?" Harding's sorrow-filled voice echoed softly off the culvert's walls, silencing us all. "Maker…Another one gone. Just like that." Her forest green eyes shone with tears as they flicked to Cullen. "You never get used to it, do you? Losing someone under your leadership?" Cullen pulled his lips into a hard line and shook his head. Her lips quivered even as they pulled into a sad smile. "Maker, I'll miss him. The boy was great company. Terrible jokes, but that was part of his charm, you know?" Cullen gave a nod. Harding's face fell. "We should return to the Hold. Spotted more Hakkonites." A final look around the cave as if searching for Grandin, Harding left.

Briony cleared her throat as her eyes flicked to me. "Apologies, Lieutenant. Whatever our differences, I am sorry for the boy."

"Just try to keep in mind that for most mages, we cannot even grieve properly for fear of drawing demons," I challenged, "We must constantly restrain our emotions in order to remain free of temptation. To fully feel is a gift few of us are allowed without consequence. Do you have such a struggle, Briony?"

"The area is cleansed, Lieutenant," Barris reported, filling the silence when Briony did not reply.

"Then let's get out of here."

…

"Praise to the Lady!" Svarah called as she stood from her chair in the Feast-Hall, "For we have two reasons to celebrate this night! In honor of our guest and his offering to our Hold." She gestured to Cullen, who sat in the chair beside hers upon the dais as the guest of honor. "And in honor of Sigrid's return!"

The Feast-Hall shook with the force of the answering hollers of praise. We sat within the large building, the Battalion, Harding's scouts and Cullen's soldiers and I at one of the long tables, the Hold's denizens at the others. While the tables were not the fine, smooth craftsmanship of the long tables at Skyhold, they had their own elegance. The feet were carved to look like bear feet and claws, the trestles whittled into bears standing on their hind legs and the stretcher between etched with the tales of Stone-Bear.

Upon the surface was a bounty: roasted game and fowl smothered in mushroom sauces; baked fish wrapped in large pungent leaves; clay bowls filled with roasted potatoes and gourds drizzled in herbed goat butter; wooden bowls of greens both grown and gathered tossed with oil and salt; wooden trays stacked with fresh baked bread; and pies of baked goat cheese, topped with apples dripping with honey and sprinkled with nuts. Great tankards of mead lined the tabletop. In the middle of the room, more meat roasted on a great spit over a large fire pit in offering to the gods, the smell of the the herbs filling the air.

The stone floor was covered in furs, the wood planks of the walls with woven tapestries depicting Avvarian feasts. Braziers lined the tresses. Where Svarah and Cullen sat, studded leather curtains hung behind them separating small tables laden with tankards that were sat within alcoves. Before them, their own personal feast. As Svarah opened her mouth to speak, she paused. A hush fell over the room as the great bear that had been in the Thane's throne room lumbered into the feast hall.

"It seems Storvacker would give us her blessing and join us this night," Svarah commented as the bear approached their table.

Cullen watched the bear with a sort of fascinated caution. Storvacker grabbed one of the roasts from off their table, dragging it to the floor. But instead of eating it, she lifted her great head and looked straight at Cullen. She pawed her way over to him, sniffing at him as she did. Cullen's eyes flicked to Svarah, a brow raised. Then, Storvacker's large nose nuzzled Cullen's face before she licked him.

"It seems Storvacker thinks you're a bear cub with mange given that fur about your shoulders." Svarah gave a hearty laugh as the rest of the Hold burst into laughter. The tips of Cullen's ears were red, but he kept his composure. "Now come! Let us not be strangers! Feast and make merry!"

At that, the Avvarians stood from their tables, grabbed some of the Battalion and the soldiers to bring them to their tables. A few sat with those of us who remained. Erik, our guide from before, sat across from me, his blue eyes intense. The Augur and Sigrid joined us as well, sitting to either side.

"Sigrid tells me I have you to thank for bringing her back to us," the Augur spoke, "I am sorry about what happened."

I looked to Sigrid, her dark eyes studying me. "Forgive me if I was harsh with you," I apologized.

She shook her head. "No need, lowlander. Your words were true. I have not decided wether I will go through with the ritual yet or not, but I no longer need feel ashamed."

"I am glad and wish you luck."

"So tell us, Dreamwalker," the Augur began, "What is it like to walk with the gods?"

…

"You actually spoke with him?" Sigrid questioned. "Could see him as clearly as I see you now?"

I nodded. "He is a kind spirit. Wise."

Sigrid's eyes sparkled with excitement. "I do not suppose that you could…introduce us? For though he has been with me all my life, I have only seen him as all spirits appear in this world."

"If it will be of help to you," I agreed.

"What would you know of us, Dreamwalker?" The Augur questioned. "A great burden weighs heavy on you. The gods speak of it. I can sense it. For helping Sigrid, I would offer help in return."

"I would know more of your magic," I said, "And more of how you and your spirits have come to share the bond that you do." I looked to Sigrid. "Sigrid mentioned the gods changing, dying…yet, you've worshiped the same gods for generations. If they have changed or passed on, how are they the same gods as your ancestors worshiped?"

"It would be easier to show you, Dreamwalker, then to try and explain," the Augur stated, "But tonight, we feast."

The Augur and Sigrid stood to move to another table where Solana and a few of the other mages were now sat. I fought back a smile as I watched the Avvar's curiosity of us get the better of them. Many wary at first were soon in animated conversation. Serious conversation gave way to laughter and the swapping of tales. Even Cullen seemed to be enjoying Svarah's company and she his, despite their abrasive introduction.

Once the feasting was over, Svarah led us out of the feast hall, across the bridge and to the space before the cave where her stone throne sat. A few braziers had been lit and as our group drew nearer, a few of the Avvar broke away to take up instruments as a young woman began singing.

The Avvar began dancing, their dances not the refined choreographed steps of Orlais, but the repetitive moves born of tradition and emotion. Svarah asked Cullen to dance with her as her honored guest and though he tried to refuse, she would not take no for an answer. Laughing, I watched as she led Cullen in a rigorous dance. Solana laughed gaily as one of the young Avvar warriors swung her around. The others joined in, not caring that they didn't know the steps of the dance, but simply enjoying a moment of merriment after the events of the day. Lace eventually joined in, rescuing Cullen as the two performed a traditional Fereldan folk dance.

I had stayed back, laughing and clapping. Suddenly, I felt large hands at my waist as Erik grabbed me and led me in a dance. One that seemed to involve his hands being upon me constantly. It made my skin crawl.

"Tell me, lady elf," Erik's voice spoke, a huskiness to it, "are you unclaimed?"

"I beg your pardon?"

A smirk curved his mouth. Sensual. "I ask if you are unwed."

"I am not wed," I stated, "but I am betrothed."

He quirked a brow. "I am unfamiliar with lowlander ways. One is either wed or one is not amongst my people. Intentions may be stated, but until the Rite of Knots is performed, one is free to do as they please. Is this not how it is amongst lowlanders?"

"Rite of Knots?"

"Our matrimonial ceremony."

I cleared my throat, uneasy about how he was looking at me and the nature of the conversation. "For some lowlanders it may be that way, but for others there is a step in between. To be betrothed is to be promised—intentions have been made clear and a promise has been made. An agreement between the two betrothed to remain faithful until they are wed."

"A strange custom," he mused, "for in the Frostbacks we know nothing is permanent. Things are quick to change. Our marriages are temporary, if we want them to be. If you desire to be wed, why not wed?"

"Marriage is not a temporary thing for most lowlanders," I explained, "It is a lifelong commitment and comes with its own ceremony. One that takes some preparation."

"All the more reason to enjoy bringing worship to Rilla," he murmured as he pulled me close to him. "The praises I could draw from your lips. What sweet music it would be."

My heart started thundering in my chest, anxiety pooling in my belly. Doubt began growling and I felt my control on my magic slipping. I knew the Avvar most likely did not intend me harm, but fear gnawed at me anyway.

"Ser Erik!" Solana laughed gaily as she took his hands from me and pulled. "Dance with me!"

The Avvar hesitated, his eyes on me, until another hand grabbed mine and spun me. Cullen's familiar scent washed over me and I relaxed as he held my waist, his other hand lacing our fingers. Solana met my gaze, giving me an imperceptible nod. Cullen pulled me close to his chest, his hold both protective and possessive. I placed a hand on his shoulder, looking up to find him glaring after Erik. He felt my stare as his amber eyes met mine, his face softening as he led me in a simple dance to the rhythm of the music.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"Of course," he murmured. "Are you alright? You've seemed distracted ever since…this morning." 'When you touched him.' I stiffened. "What is it, love?"

How did I confess such a thing to him? "Cullen, I—"

"Stone-Bear Hold!" A deep voice barked. "I come to seek recompense for the breaking of your oath!"

The merriment died swiftly at the voice. A large Avvar wearing the war paint of the Jaws of Hakkon came storming towards us. He wore a large headdress, bedecked with great curling horns. In his hand, a massive war-hammer that glowed with the same ice magic as the other Hakkonites. The design of the paint upon his face was the symbol of Hakkon Wintersbreath. Behind him, a group of warriors and archers.

Svarah weaved through her people, her hands indicating that they needed to stand down. "Thane Gurd Harofsen, I greet you. We have broken no oath."

"Lies," Gurd spit, "My people lie dead!"

"Your people attacked the guests of my hold," Svarah challenged, "Without grounds to do so. One of their people sought blood as retribution—against orders—and killed your people."

"They were trespassing upon Hakkonite land," Gurd argued.

"I can attest that they did not," Erik stated, "For I was with them and assured we kept them from your Hold."

Gurd hesitated, but his anger remained. Svarah seemed to be calculating in her mind. "Our guests do not know our ways. Let one of them face your chosen champion in a test of my choosing. Should they lose, I shall make an offering to you on their behalf. Should they win, you shall sheath your blades."

Gurd seemed to consider this a moment before nodding his approval. "So be it."

"You are welcome to remain, Gurd," Svarah offered.

"We will camp down below and return at first light," Gurd stated, "I request that I choose their champion."

"Very well." Svarah nodded. With a final glare towards us, the Hakkonites turned and left. "Bull-headed fool."

"Have we brought trouble to you, Thane?" Cullen questioned.

She shook her head. "We are glad to have the Inquisition as allies, Commander. The Hakkonites are tiresome fools and they have forgotten the Old Ways…but we have pledged peace with them. I will protect my Hold and seek peaceful ways of settling matters whenever I am able. The Hakkonites do not own the Basin, Commander, and your people did nothing to provoke them. But Gurd Harofsen thinks only of battle and war. He seeks a reason to slay us. I will not give him one." She looked to Cullen. "A climbing contest, Commander. Gurd will choose someone from among your people that he perceives to be weak and slow. While he will choose his strongest and swiftest. Pray that your god favors you or that ours would aid you. If you'll excuse me, I will retire for the night."

"Maker's breath," Cullen mumbled under his breath as the music resumed, "Perhaps this will get us out of here sooner at least."

"Not enjoying experiencing a new culture, Commander?" I teased.

"I am glad of the ability to travel—to see more of the Maker's creation—but this is a rather hostile experience," humor colored his voice, "I have had enough of those in my lifetime."

"Maybe one day we'll get to take an enjoyable leave of absence?"

His eyes met mine, his perfect lips pulling into that half-grin before he tried to school his face into neutrality. "Perhaps."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What are you up to?"

He grew flustered, looking away. "N-nothing."

"Hmm," I hummed to which he cleared his throat.

We enjoyed the festivities a few hours longer and then slipped away into the shadows. Fingers laced, he lifted my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. I looked up at him, seeing that he was content despite all that had happened. 'When you touched him.' "What will he think of you with this new revelation?"

"Cullen—" I began, causing him to look at me, that softness he reserved only for me spreading over his features. "Abomination."

He studied my face when I didn't continue, his only softening more before he suddenly grabbed my hand and pulled us behind one of the huts. Pressing me up against it, one hand on my hip, the other cupping my neck as he tilted my chin. He kissed me deeply.

"Whatever it is, love, you do not have to tell me," he murmured softly, "I just want you to know that you can talk to me. I see you struggling, see that something is heavy on your mind. I wish only to help lighten your burden, if you need it of me."

When I said nothing, he kissed me again. His mouth slanted over mine, his lips soft. I knew I should tell him. Tell him what had been revealed. What I feared was the truth. That I was an abomination despite Purpose and the others saying otherwise. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead, I threw my arms about his neck, twined my fingers into his hair and lost myself in his kiss.

…

We walked back to Svarah's home, the Thane still awake as she sat at her dining table. Separating for sleep, I found Sigrid in the Fade and introduced her to her spirit teacher. I sat by as the two conversed in length, I coating them in a barrier so I could not overhear. Purpose appeared, throwing himself down to sit next to me as he raked a hand through his hair. I looked at him and found a weariness to him that had not been present before.

His gold eyes met mine. "We're doing what we can, but you're running out of time, Meira."

"I know." I sighed. "But I still don't have a plan for how to deal with her."

"I don't think you can have a plan," he said as he laced his fingers over his knees. "I just didn't want you to go in blind."

"But you couldn't tell me for fear of influencing her further. I had to come to understand on my own," I explained for him.

He nodded. "I'm sorry that I cannot be entirely forthcoming at all times."

"Forgive me for not understanding," I apologized as I leaned against his shoulder.

He pressed a kiss to my temple. "I cannot guide you any further, but know that I will be at your side when you decide to face her."

"I know."

"But know too, Meira, that when you do…" His gold eyes studied Sigrid and her teacher beyond the barrier. "I will not remain."

I whipped my head at him. "What?!"

His hand held my cheek, his thumb running along my skin. "It is as you said to the Spirit of Purpose that Grandin corrupted. I will be without a purpose after that. For me to remain…would be to bring you to harm." He pressed his forehead to mine. "I will never be responsible for that again."

"But-But—"

"Meira," he hushed me, "You will not need me anymore."

"Purpose," I croaked.

"It is not time yet, Meira," he murmured as he wiped the tears from my cheeks, "Do not shed your tears for me. You have shed far too many already." I threw my arms around him, sobbing as I did so, holding him in a tight hug. "Remember your faith, Meira. It is what you need more than anything in the days to come."

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