The med bay doors hissed open, and Andersson stepped into the sterile white light—it hit him like a weapon.

He winced, lifting both hands to shield his eyes from the sudden glare. Every surface gleamed. Every reflection stabbed.

Reece caught him just as he staggered slightly to the side, his grip steady under Andersson's arm.

Hale flanked the other side, her jaw set, eyes scanning for threats even now, as if fluorescent lighting could launch an ambush.

"Captain, you appear to be experiencing psychological distress," EDI said, materializing beside the diagnostic console in a cool flicker of hard light. "Please allow me to examine you."

Her voice was calm, crisp—but Reece's wasn't.

"What the fuck did they do to him, EDI?" he snapped. His tone held no patience, just the raw edge of someone staring down a problem they couldn't shoot.

They eased Andersson onto the nearest med bed. He moved like his limbs were operating on a delay—responding to commands written in a different language.

EDI didn't waste time. Her holographic arms danced across the console, and above them, the holo display flared to life. Rotating scans of Andersson's brain bloomed in mid-air—layered in diagnostic blue, pulsing with shifting data.

EDI's gaze flickered with internal calculations. "His cognitive functions are… being altered."

Reece turned sharply. "What the fuck do you mean being altered?"

"They appear to be adapting," EDI replied, her tone unshaken.

Hale took a step closer, arms folded. "Adapting to what?"

EDI turned toward them. "His neurological pathways are being rewritten. Expanded."

Reece's knuckles went white around the back of the nearby chair. "Expanded?"

"Yes," EDI confirmed. "But not artificially. There's no invasive influence—no damage. His brain is actively restructuring itself."

Hale's eyes narrowed. "Is it harming him?"

"No," EDI said, and this time, her voice was gentler. "But his confusion is understandable. His cognitive processing speed has increased exponentially. His mind is adapting to accommodate new patterns of thought—connections he was previously incapable of making at this speed."

Andersson exhaled, pressing the heel of his palm to his temple. "That would explain why I feel like my head's been rewired. It's like my thoughts are moving faster than I can process. Connections are forming before I've even finished thinking about them."

EDI inclined her head slightly. "That is an accurate description. The expansion is not damaging, but it is fundamentally altering the way your brain processes information. You may experience moments of disorientation as your mind acclimates."

Reece let out a slow breath through his nose, arms crossed. "Great. So he's not dying, just having his entire brain rearranged without permission."

Hale let out a breath, running a hand through her hair. "How long until he's back to normal?"

"That depends on how one defines 'normal,'" EDI said, which only made Reece bristle more. "His neurological adaptations will stabilize within a few days, but his cognitive functions will not return to their previous baseline. He will adjust, but he will not be the same."

Andersson, who had been half-listening, dragged a hand down his face. "I don't even know what that means."

"You will," EDI said simply.

Reece rubbed at his temples. "I swear to god, if he starts speaking in riddles like the rest of them, I'm launching him out the airlock."

Andersson managed a dry smirk. "You'd miss me."

Before Reece could come up with a retort, EDI's voice interrupted.

"Medical personnel from Skyhold have arrived at the docking airlock. They are requesting permission to board to examine the captain. I am also detecting multiple Elarin among them."

Hale's eyes narrowed. "Elarin. Fantastic. Probably here to check whether they've turned him into a walking tree."

She rolled her shoulders and turned toward the door. "I'll go tell them exactly where they can shove their medical credentials."

Her gaze flicked toward Reece and Andersson, jaw set. "You two handle that." She jerked her chin at the med bed. "I'll make sure we don't end up hosting a goddamn spiritual pilgrimage."

She paused at the door, jaw still set. "Call me if he sprouts antlers or starts speaking in ancient riddles." Then she was gone.—boots striking the floor in hard, purposeful strides as the medbay doors slid shut behind her.

Andersson sighed, running a hand over his face. "She makes it sound like I'm some kind of timebomb about to go off."

"Can you blame her?" Reece muttered, still watching him carefully.

EDI, ignoring the exchange, continued her scan. "Your vital signs are stable. However, there are significant changes in your neural activity. I am detecting increased synaptic firing rates in your prefrontal cortex, hippocampus, and temporal lobes—especially in areas associated with memory retrieval, pattern recognition, and cognitive processing speed."

Andersson frowned. "Meaning?"

"Your brain is functioning at a significantly higher level of efficiency than before," EDI explained. "The rate at which you are forming new neural pathways is unprecedented in a human brain."

Reece exhaled sharply. "Unprecedented? Yeah, that's not alarming at all."

EDI continued, "The neural restructuring is extensive. Your hippocampus—responsible for memory consolidation—is exhibiting increased activity, suggesting a large-scale imprinting of information. Your synaptic plasticity has increased dramatically, allowing for rapid adaptation to new knowledge. This level of neurological acceleration has never been recorded in human cognition."

Andersson flexed his fingers, staring down at them like they weren't entirely his own. "That makes sense," he muttered. "It's not just memories in my head. It's something else. Like my thoughts are processing in a way they never did before."

"Feels like I've been rewritten," Andersson muttered, watching his hands like they weren't his.

EDI paused for a moment, then said, "There is no indication of neurological damage. However, the changes in your brain structure are not temporary. Your cognition is now fundamentally different. The knowledge you acquired may continue to surface over time, manifesting in unpredictable ways."

Reece rubbed his face, his patience thinning. "You're saying he might just wake up one day and suddenly remember every moment of history like he lived it?"

EDI's light flickered slightly, her expression unreadable as she responded. "That is a possibility."

Reece turned to Andersson, his voice lower now, edged with something else—something closer to fear. "Does that not freak you the fuck out?"

Andersson exhaled, leaning back against the medbay bed. "Oh, trust me, it does. I just don't have the luxury of losing my shit about it right now."

Reece scoffed, pacing a few steps away before turning back. "Right. Because being calm and logical about your entire brain being rewritten is just another Tuesday for you?"

Andersson met his gaze, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite everything. "I've had weirder Tuesdays."

Reece huffed a laugh—short, not quite amused, but real. The kind that said: I'm glad you're still you.

Reece let out a dry, humorless laugh and ran a hand through his hair. "You are impossible."

"And yet, you're still here."

Reece folded his arms, studying Andersson with a sharp, measuring gaze. "Are you ready to talk about it?"

Andersson exhaled, rubbing his temple. "I don't even know if I can explain it."

Reece shrugged. "Try me."

EDI continued her scans in the background, her soft holographic glow flickering as she processed the data.

Andersson stared at nothing for a long moment before speaking, his voice low and gravelly. "The first thing I saw... was the end of the Shemlen. Not a war. Not a fall. Just... extinction. Silent. Complete. Creatures spilling into the world like rot through old wood, devouring everything."

He closed his eyes for a beat, as if bracing against the memory. "Then I was in Brelen. But not the Brelen we saw. It was ruined—forests stripped to stumps, people rounded up like cattle. Families torn apart. Children screaming as they were branded with lyrium—marked like property."

"And then came the Qunari..." His voice dipped, quieter now but edged with something jagged. "No flags. No envoys. Just black ships on the horizon, and fire behind them. At first, they were little more than wild animals—hulking, brutal, disorganized. But they adapted fast. Learned. They became something else. Something worse. They didn't just conquer—they carved through the world like a philosophy with teeth."

His fingers curled against the edge of the med bed. "But it didn't stop there. The vision kept going. Further back. Way back. There was another war—one that didn't rise from the ground but fell from the sky. And the people caught in it… they weren't like Thedans today. They were disciplined. Intelligent. Powerful. And they were being wiped out. Nothing survived."

He paused, eyes distant. "And it wasn't just them. There were others—countless civilizations, scattered like stars across time. All of them gone. Erased. Part of a cycle that never ends. Rise. Fall. Silence. Again and again."

His voice fell to a whisper. "Corypheus was there. In all of it. Watching. Feeding on the collapse like it was ritual. He's not just ancient—he's constant. A shadow in every downfall. Like he's been waiting for each collapse."

He exhaled slowly, unevenly. "But there was something else, too. Another presence. Not Corypheus. Not malevolent. Just… there. Observing. Distant but aware. Like a witness, not a player."

Andersson's gaze drifted, his tone shifting—measured, cautious. "It didn't intervene. Didn't guide or stop any of it. But it was always there, at the edge of everything—silent, steady. And I think… I think it's with Vhenasul. Not greater than her. Not directing her. Just… in harmony. Like the forest wasn't mourning alone."

Reece blinked, eyes wide. "And you saw all of that in… what? Thirty seconds?"

Andersson looked at him, frowning. "Is that how long I was out?"

"Give or take," Reece said, still processing. "I mean, it felt like forever from our side, but it couldn't have been more than a minute."

Andersson turned his head slowly toward the holoprojection. "EDI… how is that even possible?"

EDI's form flickered slightly as she responded, her tone even but thoughtful. "It may explain the neurological restructuring I detected. Your brain appears to have received a vast influx of information in a compressed timespan. A comparable analogy would be downloading an enormous archive into a system in seconds. The data transfer is instant… but processing and integrating it can take far longer."

She paused, then added, "Your mind is adjusting to accommodate not just the volume, but the complexity. Neural pathways are being repatterned to allow for associative thinking and memory linking at a scale beyond normal human capacity."

Reece muttered under his breath, "So… you're saying he got patched like a machine and now his brain's trying to boot back up?"

EDI inclined her head. "That is a crude but accurate approximation."

Reece leaned forward again, bringing them back to the point. "Corypheus… you saw him in all of that?"

Andersson nodded slowly. "Not acting. Not leading. But always there. His presence, like a shadow in the corner of every collapse."

Reece's jaw flexed. "You think he destroyed those civilizations?"

"Not directly," Andersson said. "But his influence… it was constant. Twisting. Dividing. Making sure no one ever got far enough to change the pattern."

Reece glanced at the floor, then back at Andersson. "And this other force—the one that was just… watching? You think they could be the ones who brought us here?"

Andersson hesitated. His voice was quieter now, thoughtful. "I don't know for sure. All I felt was their presence. Constant. Patient." He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers slowly. "But… it could be."

Before Reece could press him further, EDI's voice cut through the room. "One additional anomaly has appeared: Your brainwave patterns are emitting low-frequency pulses in an electromagnetic range that does not match standard human neurology."

Andersson's head snapped up. "Wait, what?"

EDI's display shifted, scrolling through a set of diagnostic charts. "I am detecting neural oscillations that suggest some level of persistent external influence. The Mother Tree may have left a lasting imprint on your consciousness—one that remains active."

Andersson's pulse quickened. "So, what? The tree is still in my head?"

"Not in the way you are thinking," EDI clarified. "But it is possible that your connection to it is ongoing. The neural frequencies you are emitting are stable but unique. I have never seen a pattern like this in any human subject before."

Reece let out a slow breath, his voice carefully measured. "Are we sure he's still him?"

EDI's response was immediate. "Yes. Captain Andersson's identity remains intact. However, his consciousness is no longer the same as it was before. He is… something new."

Reece let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "So I finally meet the man of my dreams… and he gets his head rewired a couple days later."

Andersson managed a crooked grin. "Man of your dreams, huh?"

"Fuck off," Reece muttered—but his eyes didn't leave him.

EDI's tone remained clinical. "I have prepared a mild neuro-regulator that should ease the pain. But beyond that, there is nothing more I can do. You will need to wait for the new neural patterns to stabilize. I recommend rest."

Reece turned back to Andersson, already nudging him toward the edge of the med bed. "Come on. Let's get you something to eat before you suddenly develop the ability to read the future or some shit."

Andersson stood slowly, the stiffness fading from his movements with each breath. "That would actually be useful."

"Don't start," Reece shot back, already heading for the door. "Upstairs. On the double."

Andersson followed, still feeling the lingering thrum behind his eyes, like echoes of a storm not quite passed. The medbay doors slid shut behind him, sealing away the hum of diagnostics—and the tangle of everything he still couldn't grasp. But the quiet followed him anyway.