Special thanks to the readers and Bioware!

There were two people in the clinic, both sleeping peacefully on beds and covered in thick blankets. I smelled only a hint of fragrance that was some kind of antiseptic or herb. Anders didn't seem like a doctor and there was no great collection of medical equipment. He was a mage and most likely used only his magic to treat the patients. Whatever would reduce the pain on my arm was good enough for me.

The healer gestured me to sit down at a table near the corner and lit two lanterns that hung on the wall beside it. The spot was like its own separated area, away from the sick people. It was quiet and I guessed Anders and his assistants if he had any ate their meals and sat down to rest there. Papers had been scattered on the table, but all I could gather from them with a brief glimpse was lists of ingredients.

Anders pulled another chair for himself and seated himself next to me. "Right then, may I take a look?" he held out his hand and gazed into my eyes.

The man seemed extremely tired and I doubted it was only because of the late hour. A rough stubble on his cheeks wasn't the only reason I thought so. There was a sensation of constant fighting about him, but it wasn't physical like mine had been among the qunari. Yet he was calm and smiling which helped me to relax as well. The fact that he hadn't asked about the details also made me drop my guard. Even as a fellow mage, I couldn't trust Anders to understand why I had resorted to blood magic. It was evil with no exceptions.

I winced when the bandage came off although the wound wasn't as horrid as I had feared. Anders also grimaced a bit and looked like he knew how painful the injury must have been.

"Now stay still, this I need to focus on," Anders said and put his palm above the cut.

His fingers curled and when his fist opened again, blue glowing light cloaked my wound, shimmering as it healed the flesh and skin. For me, it was one of the most beautiful things I had witnessed in my life. I had always been aware of healing magic and wished to learn it, but the qunari had seen no point in teaching a Saarebas such an art. They wouldn't entrust a mage to cure them, believing that magic was only capable of destroying both allies and enemies. Arvaarads had the leashes which to yank if Saarebas' got too excited and would not dare to let their pets get too close to the members of the tribe. They were proud of their duty to protect the others from mages and would never believe that a Saarebas ever had good intentions.

I stared at Anders' hand as it slowly glided across the injured part of my arm, feeling warm and important. No qunari cared if a mage got hurt. In fact, a Saarebas was among the first ones to enter the battle with a task of killing as many as possible before dying from exhaustion and attacks of provoked enemies.

Sighing, I shook the memories from my head. I had decided to leave my past and would have to stop comparing everything to the qunari in order to do so, despite having no replacement. What mattered was that I had escaped and I was motivated to adjust to a new life.

"What's your name?" Anders suddenly asked as he was finishing up.

I raised my chin and blinked at the healer. My eyes searched for something to write on as I couldn't bend down and write on the ground. I realized how strangely I acted and blushed a bit when nothing in my sights was able to aid me with my problem.

Anders lifted an eyebrow and sneered. "What, a cat got your tongue?"

I froze for a moment and then gave the man the coldest glare ever. Of course he had no idea how cruel his joke had been, but all I could hear in my ears was an insult. The choice that hadn't been mine was being made fun of and despite the attempts to tell my body not to flare up, I fiercely rose to my feet before Anders had erased the scar, breathing heavily and clutching my chest.

"Whoa, easy now!" Anders yelped and remained seated, raising his hands to his sides. "I didn't mean to offend or anything. It was just a common joke, that's all." He chuckled nervously and looked at me carefully. "I apologize. Are we good?"

It is not a joke, my mind hissed and I tried to calm down. I nodded weakly and Anders was in no hurry to get up after my outburst. His ignorance I could explain, but not the sensation I had received. Just when I had jumped, there had been a different presence in the room, something that was prepared for any sudden attacks. What was even more odd was that it had been very close to Anders, almost like it had actually been him or inside him.

I turned my head, not wishing to meet the man's eyes immediately after such an episode. My thoughts were seeking to form a way to tell Anders the reason for my reaction. The papers were still on the table, but I saw nothing to write with. I could have taken one of the lanterns and put the words on the ground. It would have been amusing to watch, but I wasn't concerned of looking like an idiot if it worked.

"But really, you could at least tell me your name," Anders complained with a smirk on his lips. "It's usually one of the few things I ask in return, you know."

Just like that, the healer had solved the issue by opening his clever mouth again. I couldn't control the anger inside me, but would not allow myself to descend low enough to punch him. Instead, I spun around and marched to him, giving him no time to evade as I grabbed the collar of his shirt. I pulled him close and showed him that there was nothing to joke about by opening my mouth wide.

Anders' face went absolutely pale and he was so still that for a second I worried if I had shocked him too much. I released him and stepped back, uncomfortable of looking at his expression full of pity and sorrow.

"By everything that's holy..." Anders muttered under his breath. "I... I don't know what to say. Why didn't you-"

Another glare from me shut Anders up when I expected him to ask why I didn't tell him earlier. Even he figured how stupid the question would have been and lowered his gaze in shame.

"I'm such an asshole," Anders rubbed his eyes. "Who did this to you? The templars?"

My only answer was a shake of head. Describing the qunari customs was the last thing I wished to do at that moment. My heart was pounding from rage and embarrassment with nothing to remedy it. No words, no tenderness, nothing that would normally work.

The situation was growing so uneasy and excruciating that I saw no other option but to turn my back at Anders and run away towards the underground passage.

#

Everyone who were awake stared as I ran past them, glancing around and looking for tunnels that weren't crowded with the outcasts. I kept jumping over sleeping people who lay on the ground, some near the doorways and some all over the ground. There was no concern for thieves, as the mages and beggars in the underground had nothing worth stealing.

My chest hurt and forced me to stop and take a breath. I kept turning my head, afraid that I would see Anders and his clinic. He had been so kind and safe, yet the coward inside me had blamed the healer for intruding and making fun of things he could never understand. I had no right for such thoughts. As a mage, Anders had to be aware of how we were treated in different cultures. It was knowledge all mages knew about to protect themselves and those important to them.

But I had been too selfish to admit that the healer could have comprehended. I had refused to open up like a clamp, disgusted and embarrassed of the spoiled pearl I held within. It wasn't pure and pretty like it could be without the memories of the tribe.

Gritting my teeth, I balled my fists and hit the wall hard. Before the qunari had traveled to Orlais, I had never planned an escape, because it had always been impossible, resulting only in my death or worse. Humane matters such as hurting someone's feelings didn't exist among the qunari warriors. It hadn't been an issue and I had got too accustomed to not interacting with others. It was very strange, but for some reason being a human again in a human environment proved to be a great challenge to me.

I found the path to the secret room I had accessed through the sewers in Lowtown. Part of me wished that it was going to be empty and the other part hoped to meet Jethann again. At least he wasn't a human nor a mage.

Without knocking first, I opened the door and quickly closed it, as silently as I could. I eyed around and saw no-one, which made me exhale from relief and disappointment. I made sure that the area was clear by searching the narrow entrance that led to the sewers and once convinced, I walked to the opposite corner near the piled blankets and slowly slumped down.

My hunger was intolerable and it had been hours since water had touched my lips. The blue color of my sandals was covered under the brown taint of mud and strands of black hair were stuck against my sweaty forehead. My whole body felt dirty and fatigued, but then I looked at my right arm. A light scar was left of my wound that was clean and the skin was soft when I swept my fingers across it. No spell I knew of could produce something so amazing and serene that had the power of stunning me, leaving me completely vulnerable. I embraced the arm like a child hugs a doll, sensing how my pulse was calming down.

I remained in the same position even when the door was opened, wishing that the moment would last even for a fraction of second more. Even without taking a glimpse, I could tell that it was Jethann who had entered. His steps had the same muffled sound and there was no surprised gasp or a scream.

"Good to see you again, dear," Jethann's voice was bright. "Though I must admit, I didn't expect a meeting so soon."

I didn't move an inch and my eyes weren't targeted at anything particular. All I listened to was the thumping of my heart.

"Did you see the healer?" the elf continued and approached me. "I was certain that you could spend the night at his clinic, but here you are. Maybe I should be flattered?" he grinned.

I lifted my gaze and reluctantly let go of my arm. As it fell on my lap, I thought about Isabela, the Saarebas' who had been my friends and the smile on Anders' face.

Jethann crouched next to me and tucked a spike of my short hair behind my ear. "Why are you crying, my sweet?"

I hadn't even noticed the tears and couldn't explain if they were from grief, anger or delight. Perhaps all of those emotions had something to do with it.

I looked at the ocean in Jethann's eyes and saw the pitiful image of myself in them. It made me chuckle a little and I leaned against Jethann, hiding my face in his shoulder and letting out a couple of unpredicted sobs.

#

Weeks passed, changing into months, but the underground was the same.

More mages and other outcasts had flooded into the hideout, with their friends and children. I had never seen as many children in one place before, but was relieved to receive news that most of them had relatives outside the city and were being smuggled to them. Jethann often paid a portion of the prices the smugglers demanded for their services and had told me that there were others in Hightown who followed his example.

His kindness was overwhelming and despite many attempts, he had always refused any payment for letting me stay in his underground room. Not that I had any money to begin with and Jethann had stated that he could never make me pay rent for such a dump. He worked at Kirkwall's brothel for about six hours a day and ran his own business in the underground during the nights when he was free. When I wasn't in his room, I wandered through the underground's safer areas and kept an accurate map in my mind, just in case I got lost. Helping the others made me feel happy and no-one seemed bothered of my clumsy sign language. My condition got more sympathetic gazes from the underground people than I had ever received in my past.

Jethann had also tried contacting Isabela out of my request, but the pirate captain no longer had been at the inn where I last saw her. Some customers had heard Isabela cursing loudly at the night of my disappearance and claimed that she left the city. I could hardly blame her and would have gone back to her if Jethann hadn't been right about the situation in Kirkwall. I overheard many rumors from the hiding mages concerning the increased number of them being made tranquil with no proper reason. Every mage was a prey to the templars on the streets nowadays and I was grateful to Jethann for keeping me hidden.

If I had to choose one fate worse than being shackled by an Arvaarad, it would definitely be the rite of tranquility. At least as a Saarebas, I hadn't been deprived of my emotions and dreams, of my identity which had been the only thing that kept me alive and be wary of the tribe.

During the last month, Jethann had almost been caught working without his employers consent and couldn't be seen in the underground for a while. He had someone deliver me food or some clothes a couple of times a week and I mostly stayed in the room, resting and finding new ways of controlling my magic. I realized that I didn't have to create a fireball to make fire. Most importantly, I could cast the same light Anders' healing spell had had, although it barely had any curative effect. It took another mage to learn magic by simply observing and I needed at least one more demonstration before I could even stop a nosebleed.

Thinking of Anders made me awkward and remorseful. It had been so long since I fled from his clinic with no forgiveness whatsoever. He deserved no such thing. From what I had heard, city guards and templars rarely patrolled Darktown which made me consider the possibility of going to the clinic and finally apologize for my behavior. At night it would be even easier if I remained in the shadows and there weren't many people who could detect me.

The plan started to form in my head and I felt that my chances were quite good. Jethann would never approve, but I couldn't dwell in his underground room forever. It had kept me alive, but after the weeks that had gone by, I figured that I'd rather be free and on the run than caged and safe.

When the most had gone to sleep before the midnight, I finished the remaining food I had saved and glanced at the corridor to the secret door. I had hoped that Isabela would have come to the underground to look for me because that was the place for apostates, but such a location could be unhealthy for those who didn't belong. I didn't want to believe that she wasn't in the city anymore and decided to try going to the inn after visiting Anders.

To ensure that Darktown was empty, I waited for a couple of hours more before leaving. The path Jethann had used when he had taken me to the clinic was still in my memory. By following the same route, I evaded the common areas and the smugglers' posts. I was in no rush and wondered if I was able to make Anders understand my life as a Saarebas. I had never shared the story with other humans before.

I climbed the stairs and peeked through the wooden lid that concealed the underground entrance. When I didn't spot anyone nearby, I quickly pushed myself up and moved the lid back in its place, kicking some sand and mud on top of it.

I walked to the clinic and only after reaching it I noticed that the lanterns weren't lit, implying that Anders wasn't inside. Chewing my lower lip nervously, I tried to look through the tiny gap between the door and the wooden wall, but all I saw was darkness and some black figures of furniture.

"He left about an hour ago," a voice startled me and I spun around.

A young woman was leaning against a pillar near a collapsed mine entrance, smoking something that reeked of old burning leather. She wore a tunic and a belt made of cloth and her messy hair was simply tied back.

"You're here for the healer guy right?" she tapped the cigarette, its ashes hovered in the air before falling to her feet. "I came here just when he was leaving, looking to get some medicine for a...disease I have." She scratched her arm until tracks of red appeared on her skin. "Told me to wait for his return, that he had something urgent to take care in the Chantry."

I felt a chill and curled my cold fingers. Anders was a mage and the templars were in Hightown were I had seen the Chantry when we arrived to Kirkwall. There had to be double patrols during nights when criminals operated and mages might have attempted to flee the city. I couldn't think of a single cause for Anders or any spellcaster to roam in Hightown especially when there were no citizens to witness what a templar might do during his shift.

His safety was not my concern, but I wasn't about to let the man die believing that I hated him. My own conscience wouldn't allow that. My desire to stay hidden was fighting against the idea of risking my neck for a fellow mage, but my gut told me that it was the right course to take. At least it could be considered as a way to pay the healer back.

I picked up a stick outside the clinic and wrote 'How do I get to Hightown' on the ground. The woman leered at it, tilting her head from one side to another before meeting my eyes again.

"Through the sewers, if you don't fancy being detected by city guards," she blew a cloud of smoke through her pursed lips. "Use the old mine tunnel just around the corner, near the exit to Lowtown. You can't miss the carved arrows on the underground walls that clearly say 'this way to Hightown'."

I dashed like a lightning bolt, hearing the woman's surprised shout that wasn't enough to stop me. The streets were alien to me, so running in the sewers suited me just fine. Finding the place the woman had directed me to didn't take long and I didn't halt for a second when I sat to the edge of the entrance and dropped down.

#

When I dared to take a look outside, I saw the market of Hightown, silent and gloom due to the lack of busy merchants. The Chantry wasn't far if I recalled correctly and climbed the rest of the way to exit the smelly network under the city. The moon was shining like an orb of silver and cast long shadows that helped me to sneak along the walls.

I took a careful look around the corner of a building and was able to see the huge Chantry door in the distance. Just as I had assumed, groups of guards had gathered in the most visible areas and too many templars to my liking stood near the wide stairs that led to my goal. Engaging them was not my wish but I had to get inside undetected. What was waiting for me after that would have to be dealt with later. The shards of lyrium in my pocket clinked quietly when I squeezed them, feeling their warmth and strength that I could use if it came to that.

To teleport me to the double doors, I focused to speak the spell in my mind. I gazed forward and closed my eyes. As my eyelids rose again, I had appeared at the Chantry's entrance. Two templars were talking on a platform way too close to me and I provided them no opportunity to find me by opening one of the doors just enough for me to discretely slip inside. I was utterly pleased that the stories of the Chantry being always unlocked were true.

As soon as I had taken the first step on the polished floor, I heard a loud shout of despair. Without thinking clearly, I ran to the open main hall and petrified upon the sight of at least ten templars upstairs. All my instincts from the time with the qunari begged me to turn back instantly, but then I spotted Anders and some other people I couldn't recognize, fighting against the knights.

As I kept staring, I sensed the presence from the clinic, but it was stronger than ever and filled with rage. It had consumed Anders and his eyes were glowing. The light pushed through his skin, looking like blue scars on his face and hands. It was terrifying and I was reminded of the horrors called abominations. Was Anders about to turn into one?

I spat curses with no words and hurried to flank the templars who had cornered the group. With a quick glance, I saw two men with greatswords, their armor stained with blood and their blades cutting the knights. Behind them was a dwarf with a massive crossbow of unique design. I trusted that they wouldn't use the weapons against me if I made it clear that I was on their side for now.

I don't think the strangers had even noticed me yet due to the meat wall of templars and it gave me the idea of becoming invisible first. I cast the spell and hid behind a column, searching for the strongest looking templar. The tall one commanding the others had to be it and I concentrated. A ball of flaming energy formed on my hand and I threw it in the middle of the enemies. The explosion knocked almost every templar down, only the commander kept his balance but was left disoriented. I focused again and immediately cast another spell that imprisoned the high ranking knight in a crushing cage of spiritual magic. His life essence was being drained and his body was being damaged without wounds. While he couldn't move, I targeted two of the templars that had just recovered from the fireball, shooting a cone of flames that burned the armor on their skins and left them dead on the ground.

"What in the name of Maker is going on?" I heard one of the warriors say.

"Who cares, it's a perfect time to charge!" a deeper voice replied.

I didn't hear Anders saying anything and feared that the obvious demon or some other spirit in him was killing him, erasing his existence bit by bit until only an abomination would be left. He still kept healing the others if they got wounded, but how long before the spells of destruction would be aimed not only the templars but the allies as well?

A crossbow bolt pierced the throat of a templar that was right next to me. No-one could see me and I kept launching spells at the knights, aiding the men with swords to finish the weakened opponents off. When the last remaining templar tried to jump at Anders, I stepped away from the pillar and froze him in midair, watching him hit the floor and shatter in pieces.

Suddenly, I realized that Anders was glaring and the tip of his staff was pointed at me. There was no time to dodge and I received a direct hit of magical energy that staggered me and released the invisibility spell. I bent down, but the attack was followed by a strike against my face. It made me fall and cough few drops of blood, dripping on my shaking fists that supported my weight.

The presence in Anders was very powerful, but I refused to believe that the man was lost. I whipped my head at him, my eyes big and unyielding. The shimmer in his gaze was intimidating, but also friendly somehow. I felt like seeing myself in a mirror: a person who had no choice but to use violence while being aware of the consequences and its injustice.

Finally, the blue glow was fading away and I saw the color of Anders' own eyes. He was pale and confused, his mouth moving in search of words.

"It's...it's you," he breathed. "Maker it's really you."

I realized everyone else was looking at me as well, especially one of the men with as black hair as mine. In fact, he seemed like he had seen a ghost. The eyes that targeted me had the same green color of grass as mine and his nose was sharp like mine.

The closer he walked to me, the more he resembled myself. Even his jaw was shaped almost the same way as mine and I got uncomfortable of taking even a glimpse of him anymore, like someone had made a male clone of me.

"What is it, brother?" the other black-haired man asked and I wished to know the answer as well.

The warrior dropped on his knees, still watching me as if I was a rarity witnessed only once in a thousand years. "Reneka," he blurted.

The way he had said my name caught me off guard, leaving me baffled.

"It can't be..." he continued while I tried to remember how to breathe.

"Brother?" the man with a brighter voice touched my clone's shoudler.

"Carver," the warrior almost whispered, looking deep into my perplexed eyes, "she's Reneka. Our sister."