MEIRA

Sweat dripped down my spine as I heard that tormented cry on the wind of the storm. Staring up at the grotesque building, green lightning cracking across the sky of the Fade, feet unwilling to move for the fear pooling in my gut despite the pull in my heart. The entity had said this place had something to do with Cullen; Purpose had confirmed it.
I flicked my gaze to Purpose who stood a few feet from me on the bridge connecting this place to the rest of the Fade. His arms were crossed, his face rivaling Cullen's in grumpiness. He still forbade me from entering, but had allowed me to stand upon the bridge.
As if I had much choice as night after night I was pulled here against my will. Solasan sat feet from my head in the waking world, whatever this was now haunted my dreams in its stead. That cry sounded again.
My lion. A part of me guessed at what lay inside, what Cullen had built for himself unknowingly. I feared what commanded this portion of the Fade. This was not Cullen's portion of the Fade, not his soul, but a demon's domain; that much was clear. What kind of demon still eluded me. It was nothing I had faced before; it was old and powerful. Not as old and powerful as Envy, but a close rival. Darkness swirled about, thicker than water, thunder booming overhead. I reached a hand out, fingers brushing that darkness.

"Meira!" Purpose shouted in warning, but it was too late.

It was only seconds, a flash, but it was enough to send me to my knees. Getting a glimpse of what was happening inside, my fears were proven true. What I had witnessed was most assuredly Cullen—moreover, Cullen's memories. They'd all flowed together, too fast and too saturated with his emotions for my mind to process.
It was as if that darkness had poured into my very soul, threatening to overpower me. I wrenched my hand back with a cry. Something growled, the sound coming from all around.

A voice, deep and foreboding spoke: "He is mine, Fadewalker. If you come for him—for me—I will kill him. I will kill you both. Away with you."

Guttural growls erupted from the darkness before me as Shades poured forth. Almost innumerable in their might. I conjured a sword from the Fade, meaning it to be made of light, but the light guttered and died like a candle snuffing out.

That voice laughed. "This is my domain. You've no power here. I'd swallow you whole."

The Shades rushed me, too many for me to fight. I pushed the fear down. Cullen was in there, it now more than obvious in the clutches of a demon. I bared my teeth, sword at the ready. The swarm came. I swung my blade, but for each Shade I cut down, another was birthed from the darkness. Hands of mottled flesh pulling, pushing, tearing; they were going to tear me apart.
Letting out a snarl, ice pulsed from me in a giant wave. I heard Purpose calling, but for the roars of the Shades, I could not make out what he was shouting. The demons' claws did not let go even as I encased them in ice, whatever held Cullen was working against my magic faster than I could conjure it. Pain fractured its way across my body, the sheer amount of Shades becoming unbearable as they pressed in and fed on my psyche.
Screaming, my magic went haywire, erupting into an ice storm. Before the demons tore me apart, I felt Purpose's hand on my arm as he pulled me from the Fade. Awaking, I was thrown for a moment. I still seemed to be within the Fade as the storm raged on. Shades were frozen all around me like grotesque sculptures, the wind and ice barreling from the storm I had unleashed. Trying desperately to cease the freezing tempest, in terror I watched as it only grew. My magic was out of my control once again.
Maker! Andraste! Help me!
 The storm growing, ice spreading I was powerless as it bled out from me: the plateau encased, the azure water of the oasis frozen, the docile animals within shrieked in fear as they too turned to horrifying sculptures of ice. The red rock of the natural formation cracked and chipped as the raging wind assaulted its surface. Darkness descended as I watched my magic tear apart a piece of the Maker's creation I had been enamored with; my magic.
But was it mine anymore? It no longer listened to me, this not the first incident since leaving the Plains, just the worst. Clawing at it with my will, I tried to bring it back into submission, but like the beast I knew had been unleashed, it growled and snapped at me in rebellion.

"Talitha!" Solas's voice called over the howling wind. "Breathe. Focus!" Blinking, I took a few deep breaths.

The deep dark before dawn's first light seems eternal, but know that the sun always rises. Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost. I am not alone. Even as I stumble on the path with my eyes closed, yet I see the Light is here.
 The storm began to calm as I recited those verses, rolling back to reveal the night sky. The air around me peeled back to Solas protecting himself with a barrier. He defended himself from one of the Shades. I drew my sword and charged the demon, but as I did, the storm, the Shade, and what remained of the Fade itself evaporated.

Confused, I looked to Solas as he dropped his barrier. "It seems despite your training, you still wield your unique abilities while asleep."

"What was that?" I questioned.

"You have the ability to project. You can project whatever your mind conjures...or whatever may be occurring in your mind."

"I've had to pull you out a time or two," Purpose stated as he materialized next to Solas. He was rubbing out his arm, the last bits of my ice melting away. "You've begun to project upon yourself."

"And Cullen?" I questioned, looking at the two of them. They exchanged a glance, but said nothing. "Was that really happening? Is he...is he alright?"

"I have had to protect myself nearly every night since leaving the Plains," Solas murmured, "Your nightmares have only grown the more you visit that place."

"Why haven't you said anything?"

"I...did not wish to put a greater burden upon your shoulders," he offered, "Your abilities place enough of a weight upon you."

"What do you mean?"

"I told you," Purpose spoke, his chin lifting as his eyes hardened, but I saw the sympathy beneath his haughtiness, "You would regret not helping him when you had the chance."

Panic gripped me. "So that...Purpose is he in danger?"

His gaze was unwavering. "He is still fighting, but yes." Maker, watch over him. Andraste, give him strength. "But you are in no shape to help him."

They were watching me carefully, like a cornered animal capable of striking at any moment. "Have I...hurt you?"

Solas's lips twitched. "Hardly. While your projections have some power to them, they are but a fraction of the power you—or I, for that matter—wield. This was the first that truly drew power from you. I shield myself because these projections have the potential to invade my mind. To feed off of it."

I looked away from him, glaring at the temple mere feet from me. The eerie light of the braziers to either side seemed to mock me. "I'm getting worse, aren't I?"

"Purpose and I have done all we can. You've exerted near extraordinary control over abilities you do not even consciously know you possess, but yes...your ability to control them is waning."

My mind went over the last few weeks of traveling with Solas. Initially, I'd believed Solas's fear of an incident to be misplaced, but that was quickly proven false. I traveled to Cullen in the Fade without trying to; demons were constantly prowling on the edge of my mind, Purpose the only buffer as they believed me "his"; my elemental magic was growing indomitable if the ice storm was any indication; crossing the Veil happened with no more than a thought or without my willing it at all.
The fear of my magic—of my abilities—was only mounting as my powers grew more obvious. Control of all I could do was slipping through my fingers. The only magic I could still wield with less rebellion were my weapons as they required little thought or pulling of the Fade. I thanked the Maker that nothing had happened while amongst the others, but I knew now that I could not return to them until I gained control of my magic once more.
Doubt gripped me as the thought crossed my mind that I may never regain control. I felt myself pulling apart; the Meira who's dreamer abilities had been sealed away and the Meira who had full access to them at war. One had been docile, the other was a beast uncaged. I had not admitted to Solas and Purpose that I was losing control because I feared using my abilities. Solas was undaunted by his power, but he'd lived with it all his life; had learned to control it years ago. This was all new to me and went against everything I believed.
My abilities seemed bent towards the manipulation and harm of others. Crossing the Veil while conscious? Being able to manipulate the minds of others? To bend living and spiritual beings to my will? To conjure whatever suited my whims at any given moment? To project falsehoods in the waking world?
That was not even considering what I was capable of in the Fade. Each time I entered, I felt more and more as if the Fade and I were one. That I was part of it and it, me. There was nothing I could not do within the Fade. And this seemed to be bleeding out into the waking world. The last time I had wielded my staff, I'd felt the Fade flowing through it like rushing water before the staff had splintered apart.
Solas had stated that because my powers had changed, the staff could no longer help me to focus them. He was unsurprised at its destruction, but I feared a more nefarious reason for it: that my mana "pool", as Dorian called it, was far deeper than any of us had suspected. Evident by the fact that I could not use my magic fast enough now; I constantly felt overwhelmed by it, having to disperse it frequently to keep it from building up beyond my capacity to wield. I brought my hands up to find them shaking. I had not known such lack of control since my childhood.

"What if I can't control them?" I breathed, "What if—"

"—No, Meira," Purpose growled, his gold eyes flashing, "You must not give in to fear."

I bared my teeth at him. "That's easy for you to say! You've no idea what I can do! No idea what has been unleashed!"

"And what has been, lathellan? A monster?" Solas probed, his brow arching. There was a twist to his lips that neared mocking. "This 'demon mage' you fear you are?"

Ice danced upon my skin, lightning crackling amongst the frost. "Do not mock me, Solas."

His eyes became flint, burning in the light of the campfire. "It's obvious to us both that you are cowering in fear of what you believe yourself capable and yet you have not even dared to see what you truly are capable of. You hide from a shadow that you've cast yourself."

"And for good reason! Am I not a monster?! What besides monsters can do what I can?" Ghilani whimpered near my feet. "What besides demons possess the amount of power that I do?"

"Am I a monster as well then?"

"You know your abilities, have control of them. I do not!" The air was growing colder once more. I was heaving in breaths, my heart pounding. I closed my eyes and repeated the Chant, praying for strength.

"And it is because you refuse to discover them that you are losing control. Because you are afraid."

"Should I not be?" I spit.

"Not like this," he shook his head, "not to this degree of irrationality."

"I'm not being irrational!" I threw my hands out. "Did you not see what I wrought upon us?!"

Solas looked around. "Did you?"

I let out an exasperated shout before looking around. Blinking, I realized all the damage I had witnessed—or believed I had witnessed—was gone. "How—"

"—While your projections may not be powerful in the sense of damage they wrought, they are powerful in the level of realism they possess. There have been times where I have questioned wether what I was seeing was genuine. You are powerful, lathellan, but you have been afraid of yourself without cause. A word of caution however, if you continue down this road of fear, you will become a victim to your own magic. You cannot keep suppressing it as you have been. Or you will be yet another dreamer to perish because of fear."

What is the opposite of fear? I worried at my lip. That question had been gnawing at me, the answer like a whisper on the wind I could not grasp. Looking between the two of them, I let out a sigh. "Forgive me. I've been petulant."

"Yes, you have," Solas chided.

I looked to Solasan's door. "Now that I am here, I cannot help but be afraid." I could hear the whispers that had haunted my dreams just beyond the door. Could feel eyes watching me, waiting. "What lies beyond it?"

Solas turned to the temple. "I do not know and I dare not go any closer. Whatever lies within waits only for you. Any other may come to harm."

I looked to Purpose. "Does that mean spirits as well?"

His lips pursed, his gold eyes unable to meet my gaze. "You must do this alone."

"What about Ghilani?" I murmured, petting the wolf.
Could I do this utterly alone? My skin began to crawl as I thought about what lay beyond the door. Darkness, wet stones, no sounds save my own breathing. No. Please, no. Panic gripped me as I thought about that cell. Would this be any different? I would not be able to escape, at the mercy of whatever held the temple in its clutches. Ghilani yelped and I looked down to find that I had frozen a bit of her ear at my tempestuous emotions. Fear in her eyes, she tried to get at it.
"Oh, Ghilani! I'm so sorry!" I tried to help her, but my panic only grew and with it the ice. Ghilani was yowling in pain. Maker!
Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against His children. They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones. I froze. Everything froze as my magic surged out from me, encasing everything in ice. Real ice, not projected. That voice. It wasn't her. It was a voice I prayed never to hear again. No. No. No!

"Meira! Meira, stop!" Purpose begged. "You're killing us!"

Panicked breaths slipped between my lips, the ice upon my skin seeping down to my very bones. Come now, little elf. I seek only to free you from your sin. And how you have sinned. But I can redeem you. All you have to do is ask.
 I screamed, the ice shattering as I fell to the ground. I heard Solas let out a grunt of pain, Purpose doing the same as Ghilani yelped once more. That voice laughed as it was pulled back into the temple. With it, I realized what part of the test would hold.
Maker, no. Please, no. Anything but that. But him. I can't. I can't!

"Meira?" Purpose questioned as he stepped towards me. But it was not him that I saw.

"Get away!" I cried out in terror, accidentally hitting him with magic.

He cried out, holding his side where ice had lanced him. His gold eyes met my gaze, sorrow in them. He began to flicker around the edges as he studied me. It was not Desire that I saw there, but something else. Cloaked in shadow and ice as his eyes darkened to yawning black for a moment before he blinked. Healing his wound, he put his hands up, worry on his face. "Meira, what—"

I could feel the heat of Solas's magic as he warmed Ghilani and himself. "—We've run out of time. She must enter the temple before she is lost completely."

I shook my head. "No."

"You must," he commanded.

"No." I spit.

Solas scoffed. "Then all of this has been for naught. You come to what may finally set you on the path to freedom, what may finally bring you peace and you falter? Typical. All your talk of faith, yet when the test comes you cower in fear." Rage burning through me, I sent blades of ice at him. Deflecting them with ease, his mouth twisted into a smirk.
"Pathetic." He was talking about more than my magic. My rage peaked, the tempest boiling. Purpose disappeared back into the Fade as Ghilani ran off. I stood, planting my feet, conjuring my weapons. Solas arched a brow.
"You would rather take your rage out on me than on the temple not feet from you? I cannot give you what you seek."

"I am not pathetic."

"Are you not?" He chided. "I have been by your side through much of this journey, watching you suffer beneath the weight of all that is webbed in this mystery. You began so full of hope—hopeful this would be the answer to many, if not all, of your problems—namely the entity that haunts you. Then bit by bit that hope gave way to fear and now that fear is giving way to despair. You know what you must do and yet you hesitate in doing it. No matter how mad it is driving you. No matter how you are breaking apart. No matter what may await you on the other side of it."
He stabbed a hand to the temple. "Either way, you are going to die. Wether at the hands of what lurks within the temple because you refuse to believe yourself able to overcome it or at the hands of your magic—at the hands of a demon—because you are too weak to wield it." He looked me squarely in the face.
"Is there nothing—is there no one—in your life worth fighting for? To give you the strength to fight what you fear?"

My weapons melted away. "I can't do this, Solas." I lifted my hands once more. The scars that marred my skin shone in the moonlight. "I can't face these scars."

"Then give yourself over to ruination," Solas sighed. I looked to him, his stormy eyes upon me. "I will no longer wait for you. Enter the temple or don't, but I must go. I've put off my mourning long enough." Blinking, he was gone.

Tears welled in my eyes as loneliness engulfed me. I longed for Cullen. For Ellana. For Solana. For Skyhold. For anything that wasn't this place.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I turned from the temple doors and walked to the edge of the plateau we were camped upon. Looking down at the peaceful waters of the oasis reflecting the twilight sky, the dark that had been looming in the back of my mind since the Plains swallowed me. For a moment, all I wanted was peace. Ever since I had awoken from my Tranquil state, I had not known a moment of peace.
And now? I was lost. So lost. I no longer knew who I was, what I was meant to do. My magic was foreign to me, my faith far from me, my love beyond my grasp.
What will become of me? 'Either way, you are going to die.' 'Accursed one.' 'Is there nothing, no one, worth fighting for?' 'You are in no shape to help him.'
Maker, I'm so tired of fighting. So tired. Would I not be doing the kinder thing to just...end it? What if I enter that temple and become the monster I know I could be?
'Meira! You're killing us!' 'Foul and corrupt.'
Maker, what if...what if I already am that monster?
 Magic was dancing off of me, that storm erupting once more. I tried to grasp it, to control it, panic gripping me.
I don't want to be this. I don't want this power.
I thought of my loved ones, seeing their faces, the fear and sorrow they would feel if they saw me in my current state. 'Whatever I fear of magic, I see none of that in you.' Would he still say that now? I looked down to the water once more. 'Let me set you free.' Maker, I just want this to be over. I don't want to fight any more.
 My magic roared as it raged around me. Fully letting go, I slipped into my portion of the Fade. Terror enveloped me as that cell hurtled towards me, door flying open as the darkness within swallowed me. Inside, I found the river of mana. Before beautiful, now it was liquid night. Crashing within, horror only growing, I fell deeper and deeper into my mana pool, the bottom endlessly far beneath me. The claws of hundreds of demons vied for me.
What am I? I heard Purpose shouting, felt him racing towards me, but something was keeping him at bay. It was her as her dark voice spoke: "Do it. You'll set them all free if you do. You'd be free of your pain." They deserve better.
 My heart was pounding, my muscles tightening as they prepared to jump in the waking world. Tears streaming down my face as a tiny voice within cried out, I took a step. Fire seared through my mind as something powerful raced through the Fade burning through the demons, the darkness and silencing her voice.

"Meira!" Faith called.

"Please, go away," I choked out.

"You are letting fear and despair rule you," Faith scolded, "What will this solve?"

"I would be free. They would be free."

"Free of what?"

"Pain. Sorrow. Guilt. Shame. Fear."

"Meira, they would not be free," her voice was gentle. I didn't want to listen. Didn't want to think any more. But something inside made me stand still.
"Their pain would be tenfold. Their sorrow unceasing. Their guilt crippling. Cullen could not go on without you, he would succumb to everything he's worked so hard to overcome. He needs you, Meira, now more than ever. Ellana would blame herself, faltering under the weight of Inquisitor. All those you love would mourn for you and everything they would lose if you choose this."

"But I would be free," I admitted, selfishly. Stop listening to her. Stop it!

"And there is the truth of it," Faith murmured, "This has nothing to do with them. Do you truly care for them?"

I turned, finding her standing next to me. Brilliant in her blazing beauty, her fire eyes frightening as they burned through all my rationalization to my selfish, fearful heart. Her voice had been gentle, just as her eyes now were. Ashamed, anger rose. "Don't you dare insinuate that I don't care about them! I do! But I have chained them all down! Chained them to a monster!"

"You did no such thing! You are not a monster," her eyes burned brighter, "Stop trying to excuse what you are about to do! Where is your faith?"

"Where is the Maker?!" I screamed at her, losing reason as I gave fully into my fear, my ice dampening her fire.
"Where is Andraste?! I have been faithful, but all I have received is torment after torment. Scar after scar. Chain after chain."
I stabbed a finger at the temple. "I am called to what lies within, but I know what I am going to face. I can't! I cannot escape this pain! I cannot escape this darkness that has its claws so deep within my flesh—within my soul—that I do not even know who I am anymore!"
I screamed again, magic bursting out. "I am terrified of myself!"

Faith began flickering. Her brilliant beauty shifting to something blood chillingly twisted. Fire dimming to yawning dark. Youth and vitality aging to a decaying husk. The hint of wings curving into arachnoid legs. "So you're giving into fear? Because you cannot face what you fear, you would choose this?"

"Faith?"

"Meira. What do you think the opposite of faith is?" Her voice had changed to something that made my skin crawl, fear pooling in my belly.

"Faith, what is happening?"

Faith winced, that dark shadow flickering before she erupted into flames. "I must leave you, Meira." Her eyes began to blaze with fire again despite their sadness as she looked at me. "Conquer your fear. Hold fast to your faith. Remember those you love."

She was gone, but in her words, the answer came: Maker, my enemies are abundant. Many are those who rise up against me. But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion, should they set themselves against me.
But my faith sustains me, I shall not fear.
What is the opposite of fear? What is the opposite of my fear? Faith. I must have faith that the Maker has called me here for a reason. That I must face what awaits me for a reason.
 Fully realizing what I had been about to do, what I had nearly given in to, what I had been rationalizing, shame filled me and that beast calmed.
Forgive me, my Maker. In the long hours of the night when hope has abandoned me, I will see the stars and know Your Light remains. I gave in to despair, but You are here. You have a purpose for me. I must have faith—have hope—that Your plan for me leads to a better future.
 I looked to the horizon, the sky was still dark, but it would be dawn soon.
Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the Light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder.
 Letting out a heaving sigh, I wiped the tears from my face. Turning to face the temple, I commanded the storm to part to reveal the door. I stared it down. Squaring my shoulders, I drew my spectral blade as I took a step forward.
'You have two natures within you, Meira. It is where your willpower springs from—your will to make one nature stronger over the other, to fight. Nothing can ever completely rid you of the dark parts of your mind—the parts that feed rage, despair, fear, envy, or desire. All mortals feel them, all mortals give in to them, but faith, purpose, joy, hope, those rarespirits—they are born from those who struggle against that darkness and are strengthened by that fight.'
 'Their motto was 'Into darkness, unafraid'; they vowed to face the darkness in the world, threw themselves at it to fight it back and they did so without fear; bold in faith and in their hope for a better future.'
 'The Maker gave you these gifts for a reason. Do you want to know what I believe the reason is? Because you are the only one who could be trusted with them. Your hope calls me to hope. To hope that someday, somehow, somewhere, this war will end, our pain will end and we will be happy. That all of this will be worth it...that the fight will be worth it.'
Those last words caused tears to burn in my eyes. Hold on, my lion, I'm coming.
 Something powerful burning in my gut, causing those dark voices within my mind to growl as they slunk back into the shadows, I spoke pieces of the Chant aloud. Ones that had been a light in the darkest moments of my life:
"O Maker, hear my cry: Guide me through the blackest nights. Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked. Make me to rest in the warmest places." I took another step, everything within fighting against it, begging me to turn back. To give up. I shall not fear.
"O Creator, see me kneel: For I walk only where You would bid me. Stand only in places You have blessed. Sing only the words You place in my throat." My spectral blade grew brighter, the Fade like a cloak on my shoulders billowing out behind me. You have stood with me when all others have forsaken me.
 "My Maker, know my heart: Take from me a life of sorrow. Lift me from a world of pain. Judge me worthy of Your endless pride." Each step felt impossibly heavy, but I pushed past the fear, the weariness, the want to run. The Maker is the rock to which I cling.
 "My Creator, judge me whole: Find me well within Your grace. Touch me with fire that I be cleansed. Tell me I have sung to Your approval." I began to climb the steps, the door looming as the veilfire sprung to life in the braziers. Excited whispers, warnings, wails of sorrow sounded in my ears. Heart pounding, skin crawling, fear like ice dripping down my spine. I have faced armies with You as my shield, and though I bear scars beyond counting, nothing can break me except Your absence.
"O Maker, hear my cry: Seat me by Your side in death. Make me one within Your glory. And let the world once more see Your favor." You have walked beside me down the paths where a thousand arrows sought my flesh. Clenching my jaw, eyes blazing, body shaking, hand gripping my blade so tightly it ached, that beast within roared.
"For You are the fire at the heart of the world, and comfort is only Yours to give." Do not grieve for me, Maker of All. Though all others may forget You, Your name is etched into my every step. I will not forsake You, even if I forget myself. Heaving in breaths, swallowing down the fear, I bared my teeth.
Now, my darling, go fight. Tears streaming down my cheeks, with a cry of defiance I kicked the door open to darkness.

...

Blinking my eyes as I strode inside, endless black yawned before me impervious to the light beyond the entrance. An inky curtain fell behind me as the door closed with a dreadful moan. Eyes were upon me, whispers slithering along my skin as beings slithered in the black. Stones were beneath my feet, dank air filling my nostrils and the slow drip of water sounded in my ears.
Blinking again, wherever I stood began to take form. There was no light in here, but my elven eyes allowed me to make out some things. A large stone room surrounded me, a door sat before and behind me. While I could hear and sense beings beyond where I stood, I could not see them. Perhaps they were in the Fade? The Veil was so thin here it would take nothing to slip past it.
My fear had subsided with entering the temple, but it was not gone. I shall not fear. Breathing out, I took a step and veilfire sprung to life in several braziers lighting a path to the door before me. Gripping the hilt of my blade hard, I followed the path.
Climbing a few steps, I looked up to find elven writing above the doorway: Tel garas solasan. Melina en athim las atish'an. Tel garas solasan. Melina en athim las suledin. Come not to a prideful place. Now let humility grant peace. Come not to a prideful place. Now let humility grant perseverance.
 Unsure of what that meant, but knowing there was no going back and no time to ponder it, I reached my other hand out to the door. Nothing happened, but as my fingers brushed the door, the Fade brushed back.

"This place was built for dreamers, Meira," Purpose spoke within my mind, "This is all the help I dare offer. Do not let them deceive you. This is your domain as much as it is their's."

"Away with you, meddling spirit," a sinister voice hissed, "Or face our wrath."

Purpose was silent after that, escaping further into the Fade. 'This place was built for dreamers'. Taking a moment to think before it clicked, I closed my eyes and slipped past the Veil in my mind. The temple was different in the Fade, more alive, more colorful. But as my mind entered the Fade, those beings that had been watching me from across the Veil now pressed against my back.
Their breath hot against my neck, I dared not turn around. Instead, I focused wholly upon the door. Pressing my hand against it, the door shone before groaning open. Breathing out, I returned to my body in the waking world to find the corporeal door open. The room was pitch black as I strode inside.

"It seems we've a guest," a weary voice spoke, before yawning, "I haven't the energy."

"Am I to do all the work?" Another voice spoke, full of ire. "Why should you enjoy the scraps of my meal?"

"In my hands we would continue to go hungry. Wouldn't you prefer an assured meal? Besides, all I ask for is some scraps. A tiny morsel," the weary voice influenced, "Surely you can spare a nibble?"

The other voice let out a grunt. "I suppose you are right. First, however, it must make it to us. Perhaps the others will take care of it and we can feast once it's dead? Though I do so enjoy when they're alive."

"Wake me when its over," the first voice yawned again.

"Die quickly, mortal," the edgy voice hissed, "I am starving."

Agitated moans emanated from the darkness. I raised my weapon, the spectral blade giving off some light, but not enough to pierce the near sentient black. More moans, the sound akin to my stomach when I had rotted in that cell desperate for food. Nausea flipped my gut at the thought. Hisses followed the moans, deep and forceful like the hiss of a wildcat.
All around me I could feel beings beginning to move. Then I saw them as they lumbered into the weak light from my blade and my heart dropped into my gut. Fear trickled down my spine. Corpses—hundreds of corpses—filled the room. Empty eyes, clicking teeth and inhuman groans. The stench of decaying flesh overpowered my nose, causing me to gag. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Rotting hands clawed out for me and I swung my blade.
As I did, however, my entire body grew weak. The blade in my hand grew impossibly heavy, every muscle ached, every joint on fire. The blade dropped mid-swing, disappearing back into the Fade as I panted for breath. Maker, what is this?! I tried to slip across the Veil, to defeat what held the corpses in the Fade, but whatever demon held them pushed me back, my drained will too weak to fight.
Those rotted hands took hold of me, grabbing my arms, my legs and began to pull. Claws dug into flesh, fanged teeth biting, possessed limbs yanking. I was screaming in terror as my body groaned under the strain. I tried to fight, to grab my disobedient magic, but whatever was draining my body of energy only grew heavier and it slipped through my fingers.

"It seems Scorn was wrong," that weary voice sighed, "Ah well, it has enough power to feed us for some time."

"They better leave enough for me to savor," the agitated voice hissed.

Was this to be my fate, to die on the first test? A sinister voice laughed, "You'd hardly be the first". I let out a cry as teeth sank into the tender curve between my neck and shoulder. Hot blood spilled down my back.

"Do you smell that?" The agitated voice grew excited. "My mouth is watering."

"Yes, yes, we know. Let me sleep."

More teeth sank into my skin, more blood spilled and darkness crept into my vision. I was going to die. I am dying.Heart pounding in my chest, pushing the blood out with each pulse, sending it cascading down my body from my many wounds.
Sorrow filled me. Cullen was in danger, he needed me. Ellana needed me. I had to make it out of here.

"Oh, but why, mortal? You're so tired of fighting, are you not? Fighting is so exhausting. You deserve to rest. Wouldn't it be easier to just close your eyes? They don't really need you after all. Life will go on. It always does. Didn't you learn that in your cell?" The weary voice spoke, weaving its words in my mind and weighing it down even more. "You deserve peace."

My eyes grew heavy, my body numb to the corpses devouring it. I was so tired of fighting and how did I fight an enemy that drained me of my very will, my very ability to fight? As my mind began to slow, Purpose's words came back: 'This is your domain as much as it is their's'.
 But what could I do in this situation? I could not fight these corpses in the Fade. But…these corpses were possessed. What demons possessed them? One wanted me to stop fighting. The other wanted to devour me.
'Possessed by hunger demons, they eat their victims'. Hunger. One of the demons was hunger. A weak spirit, it was the other one that seemed to be in power. But what was it? It wanted me to stop fighting, even seemed to have the ability to drain my will to fight. How did I conquer it?
'Now, my darling, go fight'. 'Nothing can break me except Your absence'.
 Had I not gone through this before? Had I not been rendered unable to fight in that cell and yet, I had endured. I had persevered. Fighting in my own way.
'Now let humility grant perseverance'. What was the opposite of perseverance? To resign, to give up. To stop caring. What demon did not care? Or, moreover, what demon pretended not to care?
"The most difficult assumption for some who study demons to overcome is the notion that a sloth demon is, in and of itself, slothful. If that were so, it seems highly unlikely that any such demons would cross the Veil into our world, or once here would fight to possess any creature with a will of its own—and we know both these things to not be the case. The truth is that demons of sloth are named so because this is the portion of the mortal psyche that they feed upon. Doubt. Apathy. Entropy."
Of course, what other demon would try to persuade you to give up?
"The sloth demon weakens, tires, tears at the edges of consciousness and would much rather render its victims helpless than engage in a true conflict."
 No, I would not give in. They do need me. He needs me. I want to live.
"Why won't you just give up?! Why do you keep fighting?! You can't even control your own magic any more! How do you expect to fight?!"
'Bare your blade and raise it high. Stand your ground, the dawn will come'. I must have faith. Must have hope.
'Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against His children. They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones. They shall find no rest in this world or beyond'. But it is my choice. My magic is mine to use for good or ill. It is mine.
"You are impossible! Fine! Face them, fight and be devoured. Then I will be unleashed!"
 Letting out a howl of defiance, I slipped into the Fade. Plunging through the ever changing dream world, I landed upon the solid ground of my portion of the Fade—my soul. Glancing at the door within the cell, the seal still upon it as it was closed, I ran towards that river of memories. Demanding that it reveal my mana, the river separated, the memories rising above as my mana descended below. It was a raging river now, so fast and powerful, it was dizzying and deafening.
Running at the precipice it was suspended above, I leapt off the edge into the river. The liquid the mana consisted of was neither cold nor hot, but a gentle temperature; like a warm embrace. Beneath the gentleness, however, lurked that beast.
Made of the night itself, bitterly cold, full of wrath and rage, it's eyes opened and turned on me. Claws grabbed my waist and threw me. I slammed upon the ground, letting out a cough as the air left my lungs. A snarl rent the air. Getting to my feet as I panted, I heard pounding on the door within the cell. Glaring at it, I threw a hand at the door and willed it shut tighter still.
"So be it, but I will be free."
 Ignoring the voice, rage bubbling in my chest, I turned my glare to the beast that was my mana. The river curled in on itself, wrapping and wrapping around before slamming its feet upon the ground. I believed it to be a beast, so a beast it had become. Midnight membranous wings unfurled; fathomless silver eyes glaring down at me; shadow flames curled off its form. A monstrous dragon of shadow flame. Flapping its wings, a storm of ice descended upon me.
Shielding my eyes, plunging my conjured blade into the ground, I dug my feet in. The shadow dragon let out a roar that tore at my ears: full of misery and woe. It called for me to give up. Planting my feet, I took a deep breath.
Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the Light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure.
 The storm lessened, the ice lost its bite. The dragon that was my mana let out another screech.
'Now, my darling, go fight'.
 That feeling that had burned in my gut as I charged the temple, burned once more. Letting out a snarl, I summoned what strength remained in me and charged the beast. It flapped its wings, issuing defiant cries, but I kept coming. It tried to fly away, but I summoned ropes of lightning to hold it to the ground. Feeling as my magic came slowly back under my control, I leapt.
Summoning platforms of ice, I leapt from one to the next until I was level with the enormous serpent's head. It snapped its jaws at me, but I kicked it away, my leg encased in ice. Though it was made of shadow, I connected with something solid. Stunning it a moment, I hurled myself atop its head.
Crying out as I made contact with its midnight scales, the coldness of it threatened to overwhelm me. There was no feeling, no emotion, nothing but yawning, fathomless, empty dark. Breathing, I focused all of my will upon the beast. Grabbing a hold of the dragon, plunging my hands into its shadowy body, I summoned all the ice I could muster. It roared in panic, in rage, wings flapping madly, pulling against the restraints. My ice began to encase it, but it fought all the harder.
Letting out a howl of defiance, I pulled even more mana. You are mine. You belong to me. It snapped and growled, its shadow flames licking at me. You are mine! My ice erupted all along it, freezing the beast solid. With a shout, I slammed my hands upon it and it shattered apart. Falling from the great height, I hit the ground, looking up to see the ice shards changing.
The darkness leeched out, the shadows worming their way back to the cracks along the door within the cell. As the shadows left the ice, shards of emeralds dazzled. Bit by bit, that river reformed, still powerful but no longer raging. No longer wild and untamed. My mana felt calm within me once more, my skin no longer feeling too tight.
Standing, I turned to the cell. Knowing that in the waking world, I was dying, I was running out of time. But I allowed myself a moment to enter that cell. To stand before the door. I felt her just beyond, hateful eyes watching, breath held. I pressed a hand against the wood. After a moment's hesitation, I felt her hand on the other side.

"Soon," I murmured, "but not yet." "I'll be waiting". "You will be free, but so will I." To that she did not respond, but I sensed that she had stepped away from the door, allowing the darkness beyond to swallow her.

Turning my eyes to the waking world, I leapt back into my body and the pain that awaited me. Screaming at the excruciating sensations, but feeling my magic flowing through me—completely under my control once more—I encased my entire body in ice. The corpses that had been feeding on me froze and shattered. Pulling in more of the Fade, I healed my injuries before standing.
Panting, anger and defiance rising, hope daring to burn within my chest, I summoned my spectral blade in one hand. In the other, a blade of shadow flames. Light and dark. Two natures. As long as she resides in me, as long as my darkness takes a physical form, it will pull at me. It will fight to control me. I glanced at the shadow blade. This is how I fight. I will not embrace that darkness, but I will use it. I cannot continue to live in fear of it. Of my magic. Of what—of who—I am.

"Oh? It seems the mortal wishes to fight. The gall," Sloth's voice spoke before it laughed, "Will you succeed? Do hurry, all this waiting is so tiring."

"It's been a long time since one has made it to us," the other voice spoke, "I do itch for a fight."

"If it survives, you're welcome to it."

More corpses came, but I was ready for them. Gripping my blades tighter, my blood pumping faster, I charged them. Rotting flesh sizzled on the spectral blade, while it froze and shattered upon the shadow flame. Corpse after corpse fell. Whatever had been draining me of strength, of will, still pulled, but my drive—my will—to fight was stronger.
A battle of wills. That was all this was. All this whole test would be. A battle of will. A test of my will. But to what end?
I tried once more to cross the Veil and release the corpses, but though my strength was returned, the demon that held them proved too powerful, their hold too strong. Swing after swing, corpse after corpse fell. Hisses and moans silencing, the room slowly growing quiet.
After what seemed like ages, my body shaking as I panted in breaths, I was victorious. Veilfire illuminated the dark, revealing the hundreds of corpses I had ended. Pity filling my chest at the sheer number, I watched as they faded away.
Relief swept the room, as if the spirits of those who'd been possessed were finally free. Behind me, two more braziers lit, revealing another door with the same writing above it as the first. Slipping into the Fade, I opened the door.

Stepping inside, I was rendered unconscious.

…

It isn't real. No matter what comes, no matter how they tempt you, it isn't real.
 I told myself this again and again as the temptation took its form around me. I didn't want to open my eyes, knowing what awaited me. Heavy arms were wrapped around my waist, a familiar scent filling my nose as I was pressed against something warm. Beneath me was a fluffy cloud, his warm breath tickled my cheek.
It's not real.
 Blinking my eyes open, I was pressed against his chest. We were a tangle of limbs. I listened to the rhythmic thud of his heartbeat, the soft sound of his breathing for a time before pulling away. His arms tightened around me before relaxing. I pushed away just enough to look at him. My heart ached as my eyes beheld him, longing for this to be real.
His face was peaceful, almost boyish in appearance as he slept. Maker, but he's beautiful. Golden hair; dark brows; long, dark lashes; stubble on his chiseled face. That scar dissecting his perfect upper lip.
I longed for those lips to twist into that crooked smile he always gave, to hear his laugh, to see the love and warmth in his amber eyes. Tears welling, I drank in my fill of him before turning away and sitting up.
We were in my room at Skyhold. Soft rays of first light streaming in from the windows, a gentle breeze tugging on my hair. Looking down, I was in a silk nightgown, my ebony curls free. The room was cozy; delightful scents wafting on the breeze.
I have to get out.
 Pulling the covers off, I went to stand but I was stopped by strong, yet gentle hands. Curling around my hips, pulling me back, but I resisted.

"Where are you going, love?" His sleep-thickened voice questioned and I had to choke down a sob at the sound of it. How I missed it. Proper, smooth, but with just enough roughness to make my insides quiver. I felt him shift on the bed, his hands moving to wrap around my waist as his stubble scratched at the skin on my neck. He placed a gentle kiss on the curve of my shoulder. "It's barely dawn."

I knew if I looked at him, I'd be done for. I had to test the demon. Press it. Like I had Envy. "You sleeping in? Has the Maker returned?"

He chuckled, his lips tickling my skin. "Now that Corypheus is defeated, I prefer to enjoy my mornings. Especially with my wife." His lips moved up my neck and Maker did I want to just close my eyes and enjoy it. "I think we deserve a little peace, don't you?"

"Surely there's still things to see to?" I probed, feeling along the illusion, trying to find the demon.

He let out a playful growl, his voice sensuous. "They can wait. Right now, I need you." His arms tightened around me, his lips pressing harder into my neck. Somewhere beyond this false reality, I felt pain there, but the demon pushed me further into the illusion.

"Cullen, we can't stay in bed all day," I pressed as I tried to get up.

"Why not?" He whined and the sound grated. It's not Cullen. "What could possibly be so important? Why do you insist on seeing to your duties? Will you not lay here with me, just a little longer?" He pressed kisses along my spine. "We hardly see each other once the day begins. Can you not indulge me a little, my darling?"

I want to more than you know, but with the real him. Not this imposter. I found the demon. One of them, but the other was hidden. "I can't. There's too much to do today."

He let out another growl, but this one was not playful. "No, there isn't. There's nothing pressing to see to. We can lay in bed all day. We can eat whatever we want, take our pleasures as we wish, enjoy our time. Did you not hear me? Our enemy is defeated. Let us enjoy this time of peace."

Pushing against the demon's grip upon me, I grabbed his wrists. Pulling his arms from around me, I stood, but kept my back to him. One look into his amber eyes and I would be tempted to stay. "We can't. I can't because this isn't real."

The illusion dissipated. Pain came rushing to the surface as my addled mind raced to work. Blinking, my vision swimming, it was another stone chamber. I was unnaturally still, a searing pain in my neck, something hot pouring down my chest and back. I tried to fight against the pain, to move, but I couldn't. The pressure in my neck only grew, heat rising.

"I must say that's the fastest any one has broken through one of my illusions," the weary voice spoke, "Did you start your meal too soon, Famish?"
A growl issued against my throat, followed by a gulping sound. Something wet and hot stroked against my throat. Eyes widening, panic rising, I tried desperately to move. Something—no, someone—stepped into my line of sight, leaving me utterly confused. It was an elf. His skin was pale. Dark eyes were covered with a milky film and his skin looked as if it was pulled too tight over his skeleton.
"Or did I miscalculate?" The elf cocked his head before smiling. His teeth were yellowed and the way his skin stretched was not normal.
"Oh, you question my appearance? Expected my demon form?" He looked down at his body before sighing. "Unfortunately, we demons are far more powerful within live hosts when we leave the Fade. Even more unfortunate, the mortal who bound us did so with blood. We swore an oath and that oath we hold until it is fulfilled."
He took a step, appearing before me before leaning in to whisper in my ear. "Will you release us?"

That gulping sounded in my ears and darkness crept into my vision. Something was feeding upon me. That pain peaked as a sharp pain was wrenched from my neck, panting breaths hot against my skin. "Enough chatter, Apathy. Let us kill it and be done."

I could feel my body come under my control once more. Whatever was feeding upon me seemed to lose its control when it released me. I had to act now if I wanted to survive. Moving my hand slowly, my eyes not leaving the elf before me, I felt the other pressing against my arm. In a swift move, I raised my arm to its chest before summoning my shadow blade.
A grunt and the sickening sound of opening flesh echoed in the room. The other stumbled away from me into view. Another elf. Crimson shone upon her mouth, black eyes burning with rage as she held her gut, black blood pouring out between her fingers. A foul stench met my nose as her blood spilt upon the ground. The stench of death and demon.

"What are you?" I questioned before I could stop myself.

The first elf studied me. "I am Apathy."

The other pulled my blade out of her chest, it fading away before she began licking the blood off her fingers. "I am Famish."

Veilfire sprung to life and I could look upon my captors in full. The were indeed elves, evident by their arched ears and vallaslin, but beyond that they did not appear mortal. Skin pulled taut over their skeletons; dark, lifeless eyes covered in a film of milky white; yellowed teeth; long, scraggly hair. The only thing that appeared untarnished was the armor upon them.
I blinked. Each had a vambrace that looked like the armor from my nightmares, the rest was rusted beyond recognition. Just as I had with the spirit of wisdom that had been corrupted, I could sense what lay within these demons. Within Hunger, an insatiable appetite to consume all. Within Sloth, a desire to feed as well, but beyond that, a cruel intent to make me suffer. It wanted to destroy me before it fed on me.

"Now, mortal, be polite and let us kill you without a fuss," Famish chuckled darkly, a smile pulling her mouth. As her lips parted, her canine teeth elongated to points.
"You are quite tasty, I'd prefer to feed on you will your heart yet beats." She growled and lunged at me. Summoning my blades, I swung at her. Swiping at me with elongated claws, her appearance shifting to something born of nightmares as my blood dripped off her chin, I felt fear once more. Her rotted mouth twisted into a sinister smile.
"I smell your fear."

Lunging at me, I blocked her with my blades before kicking her in the chest. Apathy stood off to the side, feigning disinterest, but by the set of his shoulders I knew he was intent upon our duel. If he chose not to fight alongside Famish, then I would make him be useful. I needed answers. "Why are you here? Why are you bound?"

He lifted his eyes to me, quirking a brow. "It asks questions while it fights for its life? Interesting."

Famish disappeared into the shadows. Keeping my eyes searching the room, I continued: "I was called here. This is a test. Why? What sort of test would require demons to be bound?"

"The hubris of mortals," Famish snarled as she reappeared, swiping at me once more. I summoned a shield and bashed her away from me, issuing a grunt from her before she disappeared once more.

"What do you mean?" I demanded.

Apathy gazed at me, his face impassive. "The mortal bargained for a weapon to be crafted that he did not understand." His eyes narrowed. "He betrayed us and we betrayed him."

"Stop being vague," I spit. Famish reappeared at my back, I bent in time to avoid her claws.

"Do not demand of us, mortal," she hissed before disappearing again, "We are above you. Know your place."

I clenched my jaw. I was getting nowhere. How do I do this? 'This place was built for dreamers'. 'This is as much your domain as it is their's. Do not let them deceive you'.
Defending myself from Famish, I forced myself to think. How were they deceiving me? They were bound to mortal bodies, mortal bodies made immortal through their binding with blood magic. But did they still have access to the Fade? I had tried to release the possessed corpses via the Fade, but the demons' hold proved too powerful. Did that mean they still dwelled there...or at least a piece of them?
'Come, era'harel, can you tame the monster?'
 Heart thundering, doubt clawing at my mind, I hesitated. Could I? I had a feeling the demon had meant more than Wisdom, but me as well. It had told me to reach out to the demon. I had sensed it, sensed its pain, but I had been too afraid.
Solas had warned against such risks—warned that I would most likely be possessed—but had admitted it was possible to exert my will over demonic beings if I were strong enough. Was I strong enough?
Staring down Apathy and sensing Famish, I knew my answer: there was only one way to find out. Shifting my feet, my shadow blade disappearing, I waited. Famish reappeared to my right, with a swift turn I planted my palm on her forehead and pushed us into the Fade.
Pain lanced through my arm at the contact with the demon. The pain had been dampened by their mortal hosts, but in the Fade there was no damper. I stifled a cry as Famish flew backwards, crashing against the stone wall within the Fade. Falling to the floor it took it a moment to rise.
No longer a rotting elf, but its appearance was similar to a Shade. Instead of a starved corpse-like appearance, however, this Shade had a stomach; a stomach so full it appeared close to bursting. And instead of it being mouthless, where its head and throat should have been was a disproportionately gaping mouth. There were no eyes, no ears, no nose, just a mouth marring a body. Drool came off the mouth in ropes, the rumbling hunger of its stomach reverberating off the stones before it howled.

"How dare you!" It screamed, "I will feast on your body while you yet live!"

"I fear you'll be denied this meal," I growled back. Summoning swords of shadow flame, I readied myself.

Famish charged me, rushing across the stones, its claws glowing and elongating, rows upon rows of teeth appearing in its gaping maw as its obscenely long tongue writhed out. Baring my teeth, I waited.

"You have fight, I'll give you that," Apathy murmured in my ear, "but this was a miscalculation on your part. The Fade is ours. It belongs to us."

I turned my head to find a sickening mass of veins, misshapen limbs and glowing eyes.
At last did the Maker from the living world make men. Immutable, as the substance of the earth, with souls made of dream and idea, hope and fear, endless possibilities. And the Maker said: 'To you, My second-born, I grant this gift: In your heart shall burn an unquenchable flame all-consuming, never satisfied. From the Fade I crafted you, and to the Fade you shall return each night in dreams that you may always remember Me.' And then the Maker sealed the gates of the Golden City and there, He dwelled, waiting to see the wonders His children would create.
My bared teeth of a grin stretched as I met it's eyes, "As it belongs to me."

Stomping a foot upon the ground, the stone room twisted in on itself before stones shot at Apathy. The demon growled before it changed form. No longer its true demon self, but a corrupted raven as it dodged the flying stones. Keeping Apathy distracted, I focused upon the hunger demon as it was the weaker of the two.
Famish roared as it approached, but I willed my weapons away before slapping my palms together. From the sides, ice took hold of Famish before encasing all of its body but its head. Approaching it, I put my hand upon it once more. Letting out a cry, all that I had been sensing from it intensified.
Hunger was more than just an insatiable appetite; it was lust, it was thirst for power, it was greed and gluttony. It was the hunger for everything. It was maddening within its mind, hardly any sense or reason beyond the drive to consume yet to never be satisfied. While I was desperately trying to keep hold of myself and find a way to 'tame' the demon, it was draining me of life and mana.
I had to think…how could I tame it? Change its nature? Solas believed it was merely one's perception, but Purpose inferred that it was a change in nature. Was it both? That what I perceived the demon to be would will it to change? Or was it beyond that? That because I was a dreamer my perception was in essence my will and what I willed would cause the demon to submit?
But the danger lay in the question if I could will it. If my will was stronger than its. How could I be stronger? Or could it be simpler than that? Hunger craved satisfaction, contentment…what is at the heart of contentment? Peace. Could I give the demon what it craved? Just as demons tried to seduce us with what we craved?
Feeling along its will, I pushed back. Pouring into it what it wanted, projecting its hunger fulfilled. All it could consume, all that it lusted for, all the power it wanted. I made it see itself satisfied and content.
It grew angry and lashed out, pain fractured through me, but I held on. I shall not fear. To satisfy its hunger was not working. Pushing past it, I delved deeper into the demon's mind. Sorting through the tangled insanity, within its core I found a flicker of its other nature. What had corrupted it.
The desire for peace—to know peace as a mortal knew it. Had that not been the same thing that had corrupted Purpose? He had wanted. That want had begun as a want to be a help for his dreamer to find her purpose, but it had twisted into a want for her. He had lost sight of his original purpose. Yet, somehow, I was able to call him back to it.
What is peace? To be content. To be fulfilled. What brought those things to mortals? Often it was to see a purpose realized, a need met, or for those who believed in something beyond themselves, the peace found in hope.
But what of a spirit? What had Solas said? 'Spirits wish to join the living and a demon is that wish gone wrong'. How then could I give it a new wish? One uncorrupted?
I had to give it a new wish; a new purpose. To the demon's maddened hunger, I willed satisfaction. To its thirst for power, I willed placation. But to its greed for the world, to its self-serving nature, I called it to a new purpose: to serve. To give.
I knew benevolent spirits would visit those dreaming in an effort to comfort them, had seen it while in the Fade training with Solas. Purpose had explained that a person had to be willing to be helped by a spirit which was why Cullen continued to have nightmares.
Even in his dream state, he defended himself against spirits: benevolent and malevolent alike. But that unwillingness to be aided had proven to be his doom.
What would a demon of hunger purified be able to do? A spirit of peace could aid numerous peoples, giving comfort and aid to those who's mind and souls were suffering from distress, anxiousness and addiction.
I willed upon the demon that purpose: to calm the spirit of others. In distress, comfort; in anxiety, serenity; in addiction, temperance. Its struggle ceased as, slowly, as it fed upon this purpose. It drew that purpose in to itself, this idea I had given it, until finally its nature shifted. Gone was the drive to consume all, in its place a gentle quiet. Peace.
Did I do this inadvertently to Purpose?
 Blinking my eyes open, I came face to face with the spirit left in Famish's wake. She was panting in breaths, eyes darting around. Again, I was struck by the beauty such a spirit held. I had never encountered one; peace, serenity and contentment not often achieved in the waking world, therefore, such a spirit rarely was formed.
Her long hair was the white of freshly fallen snow, eyes the green of the olive branch and from her drifted the smell of peonies. Just being near her, I felt my soul restored; the storm within it, calmed. As her breathing slowed, her gaze met mine in amazement. "How...how..."

"It was time I stopped being afraid of what I could do," I murmured, "And it was time you had a new purpose."

Hesitating a moment before she smiled. It conveyed such tranquility, I envied it. "Thank you."

I gave a nod. "Is this...is this what I am meant to do here? Is this the freedom you all seek?"

She chuckled, "While you have freed me, the test is not over. I am unable to guide or assist you. See it done, then all will be answered for you." She looked down to her arm which was the only part of her still bearing armor, now adorned in a dress made of gently flowing water. That armor I had been dreaming about for weeks. Within the Fade it was even more alive, the metals swirling and consuming each other as I watched.
"However, you have earned this." Watching as she removed the vambrace before buckling it to my forearm, she gave a warning, "Know this, Fadewalker, this power will tempt you. Resist."

In amazement I watched as from the vambrace the armor grew. The bottommost layer of night crawled up my arm to my shoulder; then encapsulated by braided, black leather before scales of that swirling metal budded out before a pauldron and gardbrace bloomed overtop. Once complete, I sensed as my mana pool stretched even deeper and with it an ability that was not mine. I met her eyes, "What is this?"

"A piece of me," she offered, "Use it well."

With that she disappeared, leaving a garden of flowers in her wake. Turning, I faced Apathy. No longer an owl, but its form had shifted, now a corrupted bear. Not the size of a normal bear, but a massive great bear like those we had spotted within the Emerald Graves. It roared in agitation, swiping its massive paws at the flying stones that were no more than gnats to it. Sending my hands out, the stones ceased.

The bear turned its glowing, black eyes upon me before letting out a roar promising death. "We tried to give you what you longed for, the peace you longed for, but instead you chose to fight. You say you do not wish to fight any longer, but what do you do? You keep fighting! No matter how many times you are thwarted, overwhelmed, broken you still rise! Why?! What gives you such endurance? Such perseverance?"

"The first of the Maker's children watched across the Veil and grew jealous of the life they could not feel, could not touch. In blackest envy were the demons born," I quoted. Apathy roared again before charging. In answer to its question, I quoted the Chant again: "For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water. As the moth sees light and goes toward flame, she should see fire and go towards Light. The Veil holds no uncertainty for her, and she will know no fear of death, for the Maker shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword." I took my stance, readying myself. "You could not give me peace because you know it not."

The bear swat a giant paw at me, but I stepped through it, cloaked in the Fade. Within its opening, I reached out with the hand clad in the armor from the spirit of peace. She had said it was a piece of her, but I could sense a piece of both her natures: malefic power and benevolent.
It seemed I was able to choose which I would wield. This power will tempt you. Resist. Centering myself, I willed the armor to drain Sloth of its power. It slowed, the size of the bear diminishing.

"How dare you! I will see you utterly destroyed," it snarled, "For your hubris, for your pride, I will make you suffer."

I watched as Sloth changed forms once more. In horror, I stood frozen as a monstrous being came forth. Made of rock and flesh, five massive spider-like legs slammed upon the ground. At their center sat a head with a fanged maw, black eyes and a pointed tail. The creature roared before vomiting at me. Dodging just in time to witness the ground I had been standing upon melt away as the vomit hissed and bubbled.
As I was moving away from the creature, one of its legs struck my chest. The creature was fast. I flew through the air before crashing into the stone wall. Before I could rise, it was upon me. Slapping a hand upon the ground, I froze it, but it was too fast. I screamed as it plunged one of its legs into my thigh, pinning me.

"You believe yourself capable of defeating me? Of defeating us all?" It screeched. As it questioned, I felt Sloth pouring in doubt. "You believe your cause righteous?" Another leg thrust into my own. Punching through skin, muscle and bone. I screamed again.
"You believe if you succeed in this that you will finally have all you desire?" Darkness crept into my vision as another leg stabbed through my arm. With each question, doubt tore at me. It was desperately trying to get me to give up. To give in to doubt.
"You believe your Maker ordained this? That you are here because He purposed it for you?" My other arm was ruined as another leg tore into it. The pain was slower as it had to work through the armor granted by Famish. Yet even as I felt the pain and the doubt leeching inside, I could feel that piece of armor draining Sloth in turn.
"There is no Maker! All your faith, all your fight is for naught! You will die here and it will have been for nothing! All of this means nothing! You mean nothing!"

As doubt fed on me, as I gave in, as my mind emptied of everything as my life drained out, a realization struck. "You're right," I breathed.

"What?" Sloth questioned.

"You're right," I breathed again. "Perhaps there is no Maker. Perhaps there is no purpose to this. Perhaps I fight for nothing. Perhaps I will die here. I do mean nothing. A thousand years from now, the world may be continuing on, the Inquisition, my fight, my love all long forgotten. It would be better to give up. To live in the false reality you weave for me. It would certainly be easier."
The righteous stood before the armies as a boulder stands before a tide: unshaken, rooted there by the Maker's Hand. And the demon's soldiers broke upon their shields as a wave breaks upon the shore. But I couldn't give up, couldn't give in. I shall not fear. Nor could I ignore my faith as it only grew within this temple. I was meant to be here.
Assurance growing and silencing doubt, I willed that piece of armor to drain more and more of Sloth, what I took from it feeding my own life-force. With it, I was strengthened. Strengthened enough to shift my body to an incorporeal form though the demon did not notice as it believed I was giving in, its meal assured. Moving my limbs just enough that its legs were no longer within me, I began to heal.
"But it doesn't matter. None of that matters to me. Because the idea, the belief, that one day all that I hope for will come to pass is enough. Is enough to make me keep going. To keep fighting. And it is why I must continue to fight, to endure, to persevere, to never give up no matter what comes." At those words, I launched myself off the ground to its chest. Placing a hand there, I pushed past its will towards that small flicker of its other nature.
"And it is why you—why none of you—will defeat me. What I hope for is too dear to me to give up. Just as what you hoped for drove you to corruption. Perhaps someday I will meet the same fate." Just as I had with Hunger, I called for it to grasp a new purpose as I clutched that flicker. "But I do not believe that. What I hope for is assured, just not realized. And it is that certainty that I live for. And it is that certainty that gives me the strength to endure."

With a final roar, Sloth was defeated. The creature it had been disappeared and before me stood a warrior. Clad in fur armor, fierce eyes met my own. Skin the tone of rich dirt, eyes of pale yellow, and a well-built body, I stared at the spirit Sloth had transformed in to. It took that form for but a moment, offering a nod of thanks before it reshaped into a hawk. Feathers shone in the light of the Fade before it flew off with supernatural speed. On the ground before me sat the other vambrace.
Letting out a breath, my heart calming, I stooped to pick it up. Buckling it on, my knees nearly gave out as it grew upon my arm just as the other had and with it another ability. With both vambraces on, something else was growing alongside my mana.
'This power will tempt you. Resist'.
The armor seemed to be made of the Fade itself, or close to it. Pulling from the vambrace Peace had given me, I calmed, before willing the vambraces to disappear. Not gone, but within a pocket of the Fade—my portion of it—as I stepped back into the waking world.
As I did, another door appeared before me. Above it sat a new inscription: Tel garas solasan. Melina en athim las lath. Tel garas solasan. Melina en athim las halani. Come not to a prideful place. Now let humility grant love. Come not to a prideful place. Now let humility grant compassion. Knowing now that the inscription was a clue as to what I would face, I readied myself for the next set of demons:

Rage and Envy.

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