They were two weeks into their journey when they encountered Fiona.

They had been going along at a fairly brisk pace, ahead of the Horde, and had encountered little opposition, until they met an elvhen woman with a staff on her back, going the opposite direction.

She was positively tiny, shorter than Morrigan (who was the shortest of their party), and quite thin under her robes. When they encountered her on the road, they paused and looked at each other.

“Are you...from the Circle?” Alistair blurted out, his gaze lingering on the Circle insignia on her robes.

The woman gave a sharp jerk of her head. “I have leave to be here, I assure you,” she snapped. She had a heavy Orlesian accent. She peered closely at them, her eyes landing on each of them in turn

“It is surely not safe to be on the road alone,” Leliana said.

“I am entirely capable of defending myself, Madame,” the woman said. “I have urgent business in the south, so if you please...”

“You really don't want to go there,” Alistair said quickly.

“Why not?” she demanded.

“Darkspawn,” Kitranna said. “The Horde came up from the Wilds—you heard about Ostagar?”

“Why do you think my task is so urgent?” she snapped.

“Nothing can be found there,” Morrigan said, leaning back on her heels. “The land is surely poisoned by Blight by now. What can you hope to gain?”

“Nothing that is any of your business,” the woman said. “Is there some particular reason you are waylaying me? Or will you let me be on my way?”

“I merely wish to know why it is that an Orlesian mage has come all this way to go to the ruins of an empty battlefield,” Morrigan said, stepping up.

“Morrigan--” Kitranna grabbed her arm.

“It is rather unusual, is it not?” Morrigan said.

“It is also unusual for two apostates and another Orlesian to be wandering the roads, yet you do not see me interrogating you about it,” the elvhen woman snapped, laying a hand on her staff. “There is a Blight about, girl, I have no time for this!”

“Hang on...” Alistair said slowly. “You're not—you're not a Warden, are you?”

They all looked at him.

“Why do you say that?” the elvhen woman demanded.

“You're alone, a mage, and wanting to get to Ostagar when everyone else wants to get as far away from the place as possible,” Alistair said. He glanced around at his companions. “Duncan told me about an Orlesian Warden he knew, an elvhen one?” he looked down at the woman. He was easily a foot taller than she was. “And there aren't many Orlesian elvhen mages running around Ferelden anyway.”

The woman blinked up at him. “You know Duncan? Of the Wardens, yes? Or a different one?”

“Warden Duncan, yeah, and we did,” Kitranna said.

“You did? You mean...Duncan is dead?” the woman breathed.

Alistair looked down at the ground. “Afraid so,” he said.

The woman heaved a sigh and pushed her hair back from her forehead. “I am Enchanter Fiona,” she said. “Gray Warden in name only. Who are you?”

“Alistair,” said he. “This is--”

“Kitranna Surana,” Kitranna butt in. “We're Wardens too. That's Morrigan and Leliana and Zevran. And this is the dog.” she put a hand on the mabari's head.

“Alistair?” Fiona breathed, looking up at him. She straightened her back. “The two of you are Wardens? You were at Ostagar?”

“We're the only Warden survivors,” Kitranna said.

“You are?”

Kitranna and Alistair both nodded.

“All the others were killed when Loghain betrayed the King,” Alistair said, a dark expression in his eyes.

Fiona began to pace. “I had heard, of course—I thought it was ridiculous, that could not be, Loghain is a loyal man--” she growled to herself in frustration. “I have fought beside him! Duncan fought beside him—what is he doing?”

“We don't know,” Kitranna said. “But we do know that there's a Blight on and we need to stop it.”

Fiona let out a long sigh. “So my dreams were true ones,” she said, closing her eyes. “The Archdemon has risen.”

“Looks that way,” Alistair said. The group got off the road, so they could talk more easily. Fiona explained what she was doing in the south.

“I was going to Ostagar to attempt and salvage...anything,” Fiona said. “Meet up with anyone—the Orlesian Wardens will take long months to get here, and that is not enough time.”

“How did you arrive here so quickly?” Morrigan asked.

“I was already on my way here,” Fiona explained. “No one wanted me to come, but I did so anyway. I could hardly leave Duncan on his own.”

“Why didn't they want you there?” Alistair asked. “Duncan spoke very highly of you.”

Fiona smiled. “I am a bit of an embarrassment,” she admitted. “And a curiosity. But that is not important right now—where are you going? Have you a plan? If this is truly a Blight, we need allies--”

“We already set up an alliance with the Dalish,” Kitranna said. “Well—one Clan, anyway, but they said they'd contact others.”

Fiona raised her eyebrows. “That is good to hear,” she said. “They were not hostile to you?”

“Not really. Why?”

“I do not know much about Ferelden Clans, but the Dalish in Orlais are insular and aggressive, even violent towards outsiders.”

“All Clans are different,” Zevran said. “Some are worse than others—but this Clan was pleasant enough.”

“And where do you plan to go now?” Fiona asked.

“Lake Calenhad,” Alistair said, lifting his broken arm in its sling. “We need to see a healer. Or—I do.”

Fiona pursed her lips. “Let me examine that,” she said. “I am a spirit healer—though a poor one.”

Alistair went over next to her and leaned down so she could look at his arm. She hissed through her teeth.

“That is a severe break,” she said. “What did you do to it?”

“A drake got me,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with his good hand.

Fiona nodded at the others. “We must go to Calenhad,” she agreed. “I cannot heal this myself—the bone is broken clean through. I can only speed up the healing, and at this rate it will not be healed for at least several weeks.” she touched Alistair's arm, her fingers ghosting over his cast, the white-blue gleam of healing magic flaring for just a moment before vanishing.

Kitranna bit her lip. “Will the Templars want you to stay there?” she asked.

Fiona shook her head. “No—I am a Warden. They have no sway over me.”

“What did I say?” Alistair said to Kitranna. “You'll be fine.”

Later, away from the others, Fiona told Alistair and Kitranna about the price needed to kill an Archdemon.

“Only a Gray Warden can kill the Archdemon,” Fiona said quietly. “And the Gray Warden who does that will die.”

Kitranna and Alistair were silent.

“Well,” Kitranna said. “That's great.”

“And here I was hoping for a nice, long, violence-free life,” Alistair sighed. “Can't have everything, I suppose.”

“There has to be a way around it,” Kitranna said. “Right?”

“When would anyone have had the time to develop such a way?” Fiona asked. “There have been few Archdemons in the past.”

“I have no idea.”

“There is your answer, then.”

Kitranna rubbed her forehead. “There's only three of us,” Kitranna said. “That's only three shots to kill a dragon that big.”

“Two,” Fiona corrected. “One needs to have the Taint to kill an Archdemon. But I am certain that the Orlesian Wardens will come—Blight have lasted quite a long time in the past.”

“I really would have liked to know about this earlier,” Alistair said. He paused. “Well, not liked, exactly...”

“Duncan did not tell you?” Fiona asked.

Alistair shook his head. “No,” he said. “No, he didn't.”

“It would have been good to know that sooner,” Kitranna said. “I don't know why he didn't.”

Fiona sighed. “I could not say,” she admitted. “But Wardens hold many secrets, even from our own.”

Kitranna snorted. “Reminds me of the Circle.”

“A bit, yes, I suppose it might.”

“So...” Alistair said. “I guess we have to make sure that one of us kills the Archdemon.” he pointed to himself and Kitranna.

“How are we supposed to do that?” Kitranna asked. “We don't even know where the thing is.”

“I would concentrate on acquiring our allies first,” Fiona said. “But keep it in mind. With luck, the Orlesian reinforcements will come soon, and we can discuss this with them.” she bit the inside of her cheek.

“Do you think that'll actually happen?” Kitranna asked.

“Truthfully?”

“Yes, truthfully.” Kitranna rolled her eyes.

“I could not say. The weather between here and there is always a concern, and the Frostbacks themselves, not to mention Loghain's actions...” she sighed. “I do not know.”

“I suppose we'll just have to plan for the worst,” Alistair said, his voice quiet.

Kitranna pursed her lips. “I suppose we will.”

Fiona was a fair traveling companion. She was quiet and mostly kept to herself, clearly wary of her new traveling companions. Occasionally she and Leliana would have short talks in Orlesian, as Leliana was quite curious and asked questions, but Fiona kept her side of the conversations short and brusque.

She may have been a poor spirit healer, but she was an extremely skilled battle mage, more experienced than either Morrigan or Kitranna. Several days after she joined them, she approached Alistair.

“About Duncan...” Fiona said, her voice cautious and halting. “I am...sorry.”

“You don't have to—I know you knew him longer than I did,” Alistair said. “If anyone should be mourning here, it's you.”

Fiona looked up at him. “There's no qualifications for mourning,” she said. “I know that he was...important.”

“He was,” Alistair said quietly.

Fiona's mouth thinned, and she started to speak, then closed her mouth again. She took a breath. She reached out a hand and put it on Alistair's good shoulder. “Perhaps...when this is all over...” she bit her lip and started again. “When this is over, we could go to Ostagar. Find his body—give him a proper burial.”

He looked down at her. She was smaller than he was by a whole head, her shoulders narrower and everything about her slighter.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, we could do that.”

Fiona smiled, and took her hand off his shoulder. After that, she became less wary around the others, more liable to speak.

“You are a Crow?” Fiona said to Zevran one day.

“Indeed I am,” Zevran said.

“And you came here to assassinate the Wardens.”

“That I did.”

“And you failed.”

Zevran smiled. “As you can quite plainly see, that is true.”

Fiona scowled. “It is unlike Loghain to hire assassins.”

Zevran shrugged. “I do not know the man. I could not say.”

“Crows are usually much better at achieving their marks.”

“That is also true, but we are not necessarily equipped to fight two mages at the same time.”

“One would think that the Crows would attempt to train you to fight everything.”

“We are very rarely called to assassinate mages, much less shapeshifting ones like lovely Morrigan.”

Fiona glanced at Morrigan, who glared at both of them over her shoulder. “I am perfectly able to hear you, you understand.” she said.

“I am quite aware of that,” Zevran said with a playful smirk, and Morrigan made a disgusted noise.

“How did you learn to shapeshift?” Fiona asked Morrigan. "I was under the impression that that skill was quite rare."

“It is. My mother taught me.”

“And how did she learn it?” Fiona moved forward, to walk in step with Morrigan, and Zevran drifted over to Kitranna's side. “Is she Dalish? Avvar? Chasind? Did she invent a spell herself?”

“My mother is her own person,” Morrigan said. “I do not know where she learned it, if she learned it at all.”

“Hm.” Fiona looked up at the sky, her brow furrowed. She drummed her fingertips on her hip. “I should like to meet your mother.”

“No, you would not.”

“And why might that be?”

“A multitude of reasons, far too numerous to list at the moment.” Morrigan said, and she moved up to walk beside Kitranna, and the conversation was over.

Several days away from Calenhad, They encountered a man who said he had a broken control rod for a golem, and handed the rod to them, wanting nothing more to do with it. The golem was housed in a village that was on the road to Calenhad, so they made a stop there. The village had been ravaged by darkspawn, the people all driven away or killed.

“This far north?” Kitranna said, eying one of the bodies of the fallen darkspawn. There were far more human bodies than darkspawn ones. “Already?”

“We're closer to the Frostbacks,” Alistair said. “The Horde will probably come from the south, but some groups come from Deep Roads entrances, and there's a lot of those in the mountains.”

They came upon a large statue standing upon a little hill. It was eight feet tall, a vaguely humanoid figure hewn from rough stone and white crystal.

“I suppose this must be it,” Kitranna said, examining the statue. It smelled strongly of lyrium, alluding to an almost dangerous amount inside of it.

“Do you see any other large statues around?” Alistair said.

The control rod didn't work on it. They explored a little more of the village and found several remaining villagers in a basement, trapped behind a magical barrier. They rescued the villagers and through a series of rather alarming events involving a demon in the body of a cat and a little girl, they found the way to activate the golem.

They went back to the statue, Kitranna raised the control rod and said the activation phrase. At first, nothing happened. Then something rippled in the Veil, there was a smell of lyrium and lighting on the air, and the golem began to move.

With several cracks and scrapes, the golem turned its head, then moved its arms, then stood up straight. It looked at them with gleaming white eyes.

“I knew the day would come when someone would find the control rod,” the golem said, voice dry and rough. “And more mages, I see. Typical.”

“...hey.” Kitranna said.

The golem looked around. “I stood here on this spot and watched those dreadful villagers scurry about me for...oh, I don't know how long. Many, many years.”

“Oh, you poor dear!” Leliana exclaimed immediately, making everyone glance at her. “That would be really, really boring!”

Alistair raised his eyebrows and looked back at the golem. “And the villagers had no idea they were being watched? Creepy.”

The golem sighed. “And I was just beginning to get used to the quiet, too...tell me, are all the villagers dead?”

“No,” Kitranna said. “No, we saved some. A lot, actually.” she narrowed her eyes. “Is that a problem for you?”

“Familiarity breeds contempt, as they say, and after thirty years of watching them I am very familiar with them.”

“I didn't know golems talked so much,” Kitranna said. “Are they all like that, or just you?”

“How many golems have you ever encountered? Not very many, I would guess.” the golem looked Kitranna up and down. “Well, go on. Out with it. What is its command?”

“...and by 'it,' do you mean me?” Kitranna said.

“How astute it is,” the golem said with an impressive sneer.

“I have a name, you know.”

“As do I. I am called Shale.”

“Oh,” Kitranna nodded. “Nice to meet you. I'm Kitranna Surana.”

She ultimately did convince Shale to come with them, and so they gained another party member who was not a mage.

Shale was a quiet party member, who was extremely helpful when fighting against darkspawn or bandits. Most of the time they kept to themselves and rumbled disapproving comments every so often. Shale and Fiona got along famously.

They came to the little village at the edge of Lake Calenhad when the sun began to set. On the shores of the lake were many ruins, including the beginnings of the enormous, broken bridge that lead to the Tower. The Tower itself loomed on its island in the distance, forbidding and dark.

“Should we all go?” Kitranna said, looking over her group. “Or would that spook the Templars?” she bit her lip and rubbed her elbows.

“We have all been together before now,” Leliana said. “I am sure the Templars will not mind—we will not be there for long.”

They approached the tiny dock that held the boat that would take one to the tower. There was a man in Templar armor standing on the end of the dock, and Kitranna's spine straightened. She clenched her fist.

The man looked them all over, his eyes wide.

“You lot aren't looking to go to the Tower, are you?” he said. “Because I have strict orders not to let anyone across!” he eyed Shale with trepidation, and his eyes lingered on the mages' staffs and the knives strapped to Leliana and Zevran's backs.

“We need to see the Knight Commander,” Kitranna insisted. “It's important.”

The Templar crossed his arms, and Kitranna had to restrain herself from flinching.

“Oh, aye? And what business could you possibly have with him?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” Fiona said. “Our business is extremely urgent and if you delay us you will not like the consequences.”

“Is that a threat?”

“A statement of fact is not a threat,” Fiona said. “And the simple fact is, our business is urgent enough that Knight Commander Gregoire will be extremely displeased if you have stalled us.”

“You know the Knight Commander?” the Templar's eyes widened a little.

Fiona inclined her head. “I do.”

“So do I,” Kitranna said. “We don't have time for this. We need to go across now.”

“Yes, well--”

“Must this tedious display continue?” Shale spoke up from the back of the group. “I say you should just crush him and have done with it.”

The Templar paled.

“You are always so quick to jump to the crushing,” Zevran informed Shale, shaking his head. “There are other ways of killing people, you know.”

“Ah, so I suppose you are in some position to give advice on slaughter, now?” Morrigan said.

“I simply acknowledge there are other methods--”

“Maybe the Knight Commander should see you,” the Templar said, his voice cracking. “I can take you now, if you like.”

“That would be best,” Fiona said.

The boat almost didn't hold everyone, but they managed. It creaked in a terrifying manner when Shale stepped on, but it was sturdy enough to carry several Templars in full plate, so it held Shale as well.

The windows of the Tower blazed with light, and there was a strange weightiness and melancholy to the Veil that only increased as they got closer.

There was no shore. The tower jutted straight from the lake, and the boat simply came to an enormous double door that opened right onto the surface of the lake. There were steps that lead down from the door, under the water, but no one could use those any more. There was a post where one could tie up the boat, and there was an extra boat that bobbed next to the steps, but there was nothing else.

“Alright, here you are,” the Templar said, pushing open the door and letting everyone off the boat.

The door lead into a small, empty hall, dusty and ill-used and smelling somewhat of mold and lyrium.

“The Knight Commander doesn't like me,” Kitranna reminded her companions as they situated themselves. “So watch him. He might try something.”

Fiona scowled. “He would be foolish to try,” she said.

“Indeed he would,” Morrigan gave a grim smile, and followed Kitranna closely.

They could hear sounds coming from deeper inside the Tower, noises that sounded an awful lot like like spells and fighting.

“I don't like the sound of that...” Alistair muttered. They came to the main hall, where several Templars, including the Knight Commander, were gathered. Others were hurrying about urgently, doing various tasks.

“I want at least four people stationed at the doors at all times,” Gregoire said. “No one gets out or--” he glanced around, to see Kitranna and her entourage. “Oh, and on top of everything else, you're here too, I suppose.”

Kitranna folded her arms and tilted her chin up. “What's going on?” she demanded.

Gregoire's lip curled as he surveyed Kitranna's group. “The Tower is no longer under our control,” he admitted. “Abominations and demons stalk the Tower's halls--”

“What?” Kitranna burst out.

“Abominations?” Fiona exclaimed. “More than one?”

“Many,” Gregoire said, shaking his head. “First Jowan, and now this--” he looked at Kitranna. “Don't think I've forgotten your role in Jowan's escape--”

“It seems that the problem at hand is the multiple demons in your Tower,” Morrigan said, raising her eyebrows. “And I was given to believe that Templars were supposed to prevent that kind of thing. What a superb job you are doing.”

“Your sarcasm lends you no credit,” Gregoire snapped.

“How did this happen?” Kitranna demanded.

Gregoire sighed. “We don't know,” he said. “We saw only demons, hunting Templars and mages alike.” he looked at the ground. “We could not defeat them, so I ordered my men to retreat.”

“My word, what a wonderful job you brave, strong Templars are doing of protecting people from demons,” Morrigan said with a smirk.

“Mistress, this is not a laughing matter,” Gregoire hissed.

“It certainly is not,” Fiona growled.

“I merely bring this up because it would seem that you Templars have locked the mages in the Tower with the demons,” Morrigan said, her tone growing dark. “One could almost say that perhaps this retreat was conveniently orchestrated.”

The hair rose on the back of Kitranna's neck.

“What are you accusing us of?” Gregoire snarled.

Morrigan tilted her head up. “Why, nothing, of course,” she said, her tone light. “Only that this...attack...comes at quite an opportune time, does it not? When the Wardens need allies against the Blight, your Tower devolves into chaos. You have so vaunted yourselves as the only means by which to fight demons, it comes as quite a surprise that you are incapable of handling them at such a delicate time.”

Leliana and Zevran glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes.

“Is that why you are here?” Gregoire demanded of Kitranna, ignoring Morrigan's questioning. “To secure aid against the Blight?”

“It is,” Kitranna said. “It's a real Blight, and we need--”

Gregoire shook his head. “No—even if I were willing to give you the aid you seek, I cannot.”

“We could clear the Tower out for you,” Kitranna insisted.

“How could you succeed where the Templars could not?” Gregoire wanted to know, scowling.

“Well, for one, you didn't have a golem on your side,” Kitranna pointed out, gesturing to Shale.

Gregoire glanced up at Shale. “That...is a fair point,” he admitted. “But it does not matter. I have sent to Denerim for reinforcements and the Right of Annulment.”

Both Kitranna and Fiona let out shocked gasps.

“You mean to annul Calenhad?” Fiona demanded.

“We have no choice--”

“Of course you have a choice!” Fiona snapped. “You can choose not to kill an entire tower full of apprentices and civilians! You can do your damned job and eliminate the demons!”

“That is what the Rite is for--”

“We're going in,” Kitranna stepped to Gregoire, getting right in his face. She jabbed him in the chest with the end of her staff. “We are going inside that Tower, we are going to fix the demon problem, and you are going to stay outside and let us work, because apparently you are incapable of doing anything without trying to kill everyone!”

“The mages are probably already dead,” Alistair said quietly.

“They are not,” Kitranna hissed, rounding on him. “There are hundred of mages in this Tower—I refuse to believe that they're all dead!”

“It is of no matter,” Gregoire said. “There is no alternative—everything in the Tower must be destroyed so it can be made safe again!”

“I don't care what you think!” Kitranna exclaimed, turning back to Gregoire. “Let us inside before I make you!”

“If I let you through those doors, you cannot come back out again until it is proven to be safe!” Gregoire snapped. “I will only open the doors if the First Enchanter himself stands before me and tells me it is safe!”

“Then we will find the First Enchanter,” Fiona said. “And if not him, we will find another Senior Enchanter.”

“I shall not--”

“You shall do nothing,” Fiona hissed. “You stand in the way of three Gray Wardens, Knight Commander, and our task supersedes yours. You have proven yourself incapable of handling this situation, so we shall do it for you.”

“Maybe you don't care if the mages in here die,” Kitranna snarled, moving forward again. “But I have lived here my entire life—I won't let you kill everyone in this Tower just because you're too incompetent to do your job!”

Gregoire looked incensed for a moment, then he relented. “If that is what you truly desire, then go!” he waved a hand at the door. “On your own head be it, girl—I am sure your arrogance will do you great credit against the Abominations!”

“Anything I have to offer'll be better than what you have,” Kitranna growled, and shoved past him, towards the doors that barred the way into the rest of the Tower. The Templars let them through, then slammed the doors closed behind them.

“My,” Zevran said in the sudden quiet. “You were not exaggerating about the Knight Commander taking a dislike to you.”

“No,” Kitranna muttered, raising her weapon. “No, I wasn't.” she looked at Morrigan. “Why'd you say that this seems...opportune?”

“I mislike that this disaster happened at such a time,” Morrigan said, her eyes narrowed. “The timing is...peculiar.”

“It does seem to be a rather large coincidence,” Zevran said. “The werewolves of the Brecelian, and now this, and the Blight?”

“I suppose when something goes terribly wrong, everything seems to go wrong at once,” Leliana said.

“That could be it,” Kitranna said, troubled. “I don't know...it does seem...weird.”

“We can speak of this later,” Fiona said.

“Right,” Kitranna nodded in agreement, and turned her staff over in her hands. “Now we need to deal with this.”

They walked through the halls, could smell smoke and burning cloth and wood. The Veil was almost torn through in places, and they could smell lyrium and ozone quite strongly. The halls were deathly silent, no mages (or demons) anywhere to be found. Eventually, however, they did open a door and come across several mages being menaced by a Rage demon.

Three of the mages, a young woman and two children, backed away, while the fourth one faced the demon head on. She raised her staff and slammed it on the ground, a spell collapsing the demon and sending it bursting into a shower of sparks.

The mage leaned heavily on her staff, before turning to see Kitranna and her group. It was Wynne, the spirit healer from Ostagar.

“You,” she said, looking at Kitranna. “You've returned to the Tower—why did the Templars let you through? I—Fiona?” she looked at Fiona, her eyebrows raised. “Enchanter Fiona? What are you doing here?”

“Helping,” Fiona said.

“You know each other?” Kitranna said.

“In passing,” Wynne put her staff on her back and wiped sweat from her brow. “The Templars have barred the doors—they would only open them to attack us. Is that what is happening?”

“No,” Kitranna said. “No, not yet. We're here to help.”

“Not yet? What do you mean?”

“Gregoire called for the Right of Annulment.”

Wynne looked down at the ground. “So Gregoire thinks the Circle is beyond hope. He probably thinks we are all dead.” her mouth twisted and she began to pace. “They abandoned us to our fate.”

“Indeed they have,” Morrigan said. “Would you expect them to do anything else?”

Wynne looked over Kitranna's companions, her eyes lingering on Shale and Morrigan for a moment.

“Do you know if Irving is still alive?” Kitranna asked.

“If anyone could survive, it would be him,” Wynne said. “But I do not know.”

“We need to get in and try to make the Tower safe,” Kitranna said. “i suppose we can look for him in the meantime.”

Wynne nodded. She pointed to the door leading to the rest of the tower, over which a gleaming barrier spell was placed. “I can take the barrier down, and help you look,” she said. “If you are to do this, you will need a healer.” she eyed Alistair's broken arm, still in a sling. “It seems as if you need one already.”

Alistair flushed. “Ran into a dragon,” he muttered.

“I am sure if Gregoire sees that we have made the tower safe, he will back down,” Wynne said. “He is not unreasonable.”

“Mm,” Kitranna said. She glanced at the two children, one a human boy, and one with a curious gray sheen to her skin that marked her as possibly having vashothari blood. “Will the children be alright here?”

“Petra and Kinnun can watch them,” Wynne said, gesturing towards the two adult mages. “If we defeat the fiends in the tower, they will be safe.”

“Come on, then,” Kitranna said. Wynne moved forward, towards the Barrier, and dropped it, allowing them to move further into the Tower. When they were all through, Wynne pulled the Barrier up again.

Morrigan appeared at Kitranna's side. “We are assisting a preachy schoolmistress, I see,” she said.

“One who can heal,” Kitranna reminded her.

Morrigan's lips thinned. “I mislike what this Circles does to its mages—their masters choose death for them, and they do not fight back? A healer can do many things to hurt a Templar, yet she chooses to stay here and guard children.”

“Well, right this second, she's choosing to fight demons with us,” Kitranna pointed out.

Morrigan glanced at Wynne. “I suppose. Considering the calibre of these Templars, however, it would not be such a great thing to overpower them.”

In spite of herself, Kitranna smirked. “One thing at a time.”

Wynne quickly healed Alistair's arm, reaching over and tapping it sharply, her hand glowing with white light.

He pulled his arm out of the sling and flexed his fingers, staring at it in surprise. “Just like that?”

“Indeed,” Wynne said. “Enchanter Fiona was doing a fine job of healing it slowly—it was halfway mended already. Now you can use that sword and shield.”

Alistair smiled at Wynne and pulled said items off of his back. “Thanks,” he said. “Nice to have some use again.”

“You speak as if you had any use to begin with,” Morrigan muttered.

“Hush,” Fiona snapped. “Thank you, Wynne.” she said.

“You are quite welcome.”

It was dark, inside the Tower. Kitranna was tense, her muscles as taught as drawn bowstrings, every noise making her bite her lip.

The Tower was not meant to be this quiet. It was hushed, certainly, but one always knew people were there. Whispers and the feeling of spells being done pervaded the place, the warm feeling of other lives made the cold halls a little more bearable.

Now it was aching and dark and cold, and the Veil felt torn.

They edged into the library, and came face to face with their first abominations.

There were three of them in the library, prowling around the toppled bookshelves and overturned tables. They were enormous, hulking, easily the size of the werewolves in the Brecelian.

They had a vaguely humanoid shape, two legs, two arms, and a head, but that was where resemblance ended.

Their arms and faces were twisted and warped, like meat that had been left too long in the sun. Their faces held very base similarities to one another, but all three had different numbers of eyes and their mouths and noses in the wrong places. They all had mismatched arms, and one even had a vestigial third arm, branching off from its left.

The breath left Kitranna, and she summoned her Arcane strength, wrapped it around her like a cloak.

They dispatched the abominations quickly, moving even faster now that Alistair was once again able to lend his strength to them.

The library smelled of burnt meat and paper, old spells, ozone and snow and rain and lyrium. A Templar corpse lay slumped against a bookshelf, and as they moved forward, they saw the bodies of several more mages and another Templar.

“Oh--” Wynne let out a breath.

“Are any of them alive?” Kitranna wanted to know. Her voice cracked on the last word.

Wynne shook her head. “No. None of them.”

They moved through the library to the second floor, the apprentices' dormitories. They found more Abominations and demons, Rage and Despair and even a Desire demon, but no survivors.

“They can't all be dead,” Kitranna said, gazing down at the body of a mage, an elvhen boy about Kitranna's age. He'd been in some classes with her. He was good at healing. “Not all of them.”

They did find another survivor, but he was not a mage.

Owayne, the Tranquil who minded the stockroom, was still alive. He startled them, speaking when they hadn't realized he was there.

“Please refrain from going into the stockroom,” he said in his placid voice, and they all spun to stare at him. “It is a mess and I have not been able to get it into a state fit to be seen.”

Morrigan went dead white.

“Owayne!” Kitranna and Wynne exclaimed at the same time.

Owayne nodded. “You remember me. I was trying to tidy up, but there was little I could do.”

“Why are you here?” Wynne asked. “Didn't you try to come downstairs?”

“I encountered the barrier,” Owayne explained. “Finding no other way out, I returned to work.”

“You should have said something! I would have opened the door for you!”

“The stockroom is familiar. I prefer to be here.”

“Are you hurt?” Kitranna asked.

“No.”

“Listen, do you know what happened to Irving? Is anyone else alive?”

“I do not know,” Owayne said. “However, Niall and several other mages came here and got the Litany of Adralla.”

“A protection from mind domination?” Fiona said. She glanced around at her fellow mages. “Do you think blood magic might be involved here?”

“There was a blood mage here several months ago,” Wynne said. “Surana—I believe you knew him...”

Kitranna nodded. “Jowan. But he'd never hurt anyone—he escaped, anyway. Do you think there could be others?”

“Niall was in the meeting...” Wynne muttered.

“What meeting?”

“It was just an ordinary administrative meeting,” Wynne said. “But—that was when all the trouble began. I didn't know what happened, in the chaos, but perhaps Niall saw something that I did not.” she shook her head. “Blood magic...I was afraid of this.”

“This is only going to give Gregoire an excuse to Annull the Tower,” Kitranna said. “Come on, we have to keep moving. Owayne—keep safe, alright?”

Owayne nodded. “Goodbye,” he said, tone of voice still bland, incongruous considering the situation.

“Who was that?” Zevran asked when they were out of earshot.

“A Tranquil,” Morrigan's lip curled. “A mage who has had his magic severed from him and his mind crippled. He is nothing more than a slave now. It is remarkable he is alive at all.”

“Don't talk about him like that,” Kitranna snapped. “The Tranquil—it's not their fault they're like that.”

“No,” Morrigan agreed. “It is the fault of those frightened by what they cannot control.” she was still pale, her skin almost gray. Despite her sneer, she looked sick, a sheen of sweat on her upper lip.

“I have encountered some Tranquil before,” Zevran said. “I never spoke with them long enough to hear how they came to be the way they are. They are...unnerving.”

“It is a brutal practice,” Fiona said. “All too often implemented on rebellious and frightened children.” she shook her head. “This is not the place to speak of this, however. We must keep going.”

“We should find Niall,” Wynne said. “The Litany will give us a better chance against blood mages or demons.”

Several halls away, they encountered three more living mages. Kitranna recognized all of them—two senior enchanters, and one mage who had passed her Harrowing only a few years ago.

They drew their staffs when they saw Kitranna's group approached, but Kitranna held up her hands.

“Wait!” she said. “We're not demons!”

“Or Templars,” Alistair added.

The three mages did not lower their weapons. Blood dripped from the palm of one of them, a redhead woman Kitranna knew as Hannah.

“Livinia, Fellenaste, Hannah—what are you doing?” Wynne asked. Her eyes followed the drip of blood down Hannah's arm. “You're hurt--”

She stepped forward, and the mages stepped back as one.

“Get back,” Fellenaste hissed, brandishing his staff. “What are you doing here?” he looked at Kitranna. “Aren't you meant to be doing whatever Gray Wardens do?”

“I needed help from the Circle,” Kitranna said. “We're here to help--”

“Send us straight to the Templars, you mean?” Livinia squeaked. Her hands were shaking and her skin, normally golden brown, was ashen.

“No, of course not--” Kitranna said. “Tell us what happened--”

“We didn't want it to happen like this,” Hannah said. “Uldred said--”

“Uldred?” Wynne's head snapped up. “What does he have to do with this? Is this his doing?”

“We just wanted to be out from under the Chantry,” Hannah said. “I didn't know it would happen like this--!”

“Did Uldred do this?” Wynne stepped forward, her expression dangerous. “Did you help Uldred do this?”

“Wynne, do not--” Fiona hissed, grabbing Wynne's hand.

“I want to know what they have done,” Wynne snapped, shaking Fiona off her.

“Forced the change,” Fellenaste said, still holding his staff up. “Someone had to.”

“Forced what change?” Wynne's skin lit up as she pulled a Barrier spell around herself. “What have you done?”

“Enough!” Kitranna snapped, grabbing Wynne's shoulder and pulling her back. “This won't get us anywhere—we still have a tower full of demons to deal with and those damned Templars downstairs!” she looked at the three mages. “What's Uldred doing? What's his plan? Is Irving still alive?”

“We don't know what Uldred wants,” Livinia said. “Not really—he said he wanted to help free us, but now I—I don't know. I don't know if Irving is still alive...”

“Are there blood mages here?” Wynne demanded, still staring at the blood on Hannah's arm. “Has there been blood magic done?”

The mages glanced at each other, not answering, and that was all the answer Wynne needed. Her lip curled. “Nothing is worth using blood magic!” she spat.

“You know what it's like here!” Hannah exclaimed. “The Templars—always watching—never letting us leave, never leaving us alone--”

“It's the Chantry who forbids blood magic,” Fellenaste said. “But they hardly know a thing about it! They use the phylacteries and then claim all blood magic is evil!”

“It is an evil,” Wynne insisted. “Nothing is worth it, nothing is worth what you have done to this place!”

“Where is Uldred?” Kitranna asked. “We need to find him.”

“Upstairs,” Livinia said. “He's summoned demons of all kinds, and there's abominations there too—that's why we're here, we were trying to escape--”

“You certainly will not be able to escape now,” Morrigan said. “There are a large number of Templars crowding the lowest level, after their most cowardly retreat.”

Hannah let out a little cry that she stifled with her hands, and Livinia went, if it was possible, even paler.

“We can deal with it later,” Kitranna insisted. “Right now we have to go find Uldred.”

“This is unwise,” Wynne said. “We cannot simply let them leave with what they have done!”

“Yes, we can,” Kitranna said. “We have bigger problems. You three—stay out of trouble, alright? We'll see if we can—do something about this later.”

The three mages looked at each other, then back at her.

“We'll—we'll do what we can,” Hannah said, her voice shaking.

“Good.”

They continued on their way, finding many more demons wandering the halls, and more bodies. Occasionally they found a surviving mage and directed them downstairs, to the rooms that had been cleared out. They found no sign of Uldred or Irving.

“It appears there are far more survivors here than the Knight Captain anticipated,” Zevran noted after they found a pair of teenage apprentices hiding in a closet and sent them downstairs. “Is it common for Templars to make such errors? If so, that does not bode well for their Order.”

“He was frightened,” Leliana said. “And made the wrong decision.”

“Templars are trained to see everything as a threat first,” Alistair said. “Their focus is more on containment than rescue, if you get my meaning.”

“Their whole Order is full of idiots,” Kitranna said offhandedly.

“Surana...” Wynne sighed.

“What? You can't tell me this is anything but a cockup of monumental proportions!”

“It certainly is,” Zevran said. “Reminds me a bit of some of the more bloody quarrels Antivan nobility get into—and anything like that is certain to have a large amount of idiots and madmen involved.”

Wynne shook her head. “Blood magic...” she murmured. “Where would they even learn it? I had thought we did not even keep books on blood magic in the Tower.”

“Perhaps they are inventing spells?” Morrigan suggested. “Blood magic involves an infinitely renewable resource—I'm sure there are some aspects to it that are simply intuitive.”

Kitranna, Wynne and Fiona glanced at each other.

“I don't think so,” Wynne said.

“And why is that?” Morrigan asked.

“The Circles discourage experimentation,” Fiona explained in a weary voice. “It is a hard habit to unlearn. It is more likely that someone smuggled in books and papers on blood magic, and it has been spreading upon word-of-mouth.”

Morrigan made a disapproving tch sound.

They were on the third floor of the tower when they began to encounter the flesh, creeping up the walls. The flesh grew as if it were a vine that had somehow taken root. The smell was like that of a slaughterhouse, thick and heavy and bloody, and the flesh pulsed as if it breathed.

“What...is this?” Leliana asked with a disgusted twist to her mouth, reaching out with the tip of one blade to prod at a bulbous sac of meat. “Is this blood magic? Or the demons' doing?”

“I have no idea,” Kitranna said. “Don't touch it.”

“Perhaps the demons are attempting to feel more at home,” Morrigan suggested. “First they damage the Veil, then they change the environment to suit their desires.”

Wynne shuddered, and Kitranna clenched her hand around the grip of her staff.

They continued, encountering more abominations, more demons, and more of the strange, growing flesh. The Veil started to feel torn and worn down, like it had in the heart of the Brecelian ruins.

Everything was terribly quiet. They found no more survivors, and no more corpses. All they saw was room after room that had been ransacked and destroyed, papers and books and potions flung everywhere.

Then they turned a corner, and everything slowed down.

“Oh, look. Visitors.”

There was a demon, an abomination so tall it towered over even Shale. It had a twisted, raw face, with only one dark eye visible, the other grown over by flesh. One of its arms was longer than the other, frail and thin, but tipped with long and wicked claws. The shorter arm was heavily muscled, with clever fingers on a delicate hand at the end, and around it wrapped several golden bangles.

“I'd entertain you but...so much effort involved.” it tilted its lump of a head to one side. Its mouth didn't move when it spoke.

Kitranna raised her staff, but her arms felt like they were moving through molasses. She looked around, slowly, and saw her companions were having similar trouble.

“Aren't you tired of all this violence, old blood?” the demon said. Its voice burbled like it was speaking from underwater, like there was mud in its throat. “I know I am.”

“Sloth demon,” Morrigan muttered, stifling a yawn. “Do not listen to it...”

“You should just lay down and forget about all this...” the Veil curled about them, like it was a large and sleepy animal, and Kitranna felt her eyelids grow heavy. “Leave it all behind...”

Leliana clamped her hands over her ears. “I will not listen to your lies, demon,” she said, her voice heavy with sleep.

“This makes no sense...” even Shale sounded exhausted, and the golem never slept. “I am no...fragile meat creature...”

“Push back,” Fiona said, her voice woozy and thick. “We need to—push back--!”

“Why do you fight?” the Veil grew warm about them, like sinking into a hot bath. “You deserve more. You deserve a rest. The world will go on without you...”

“No--” Kitranna finally managed to raise her staff, but the Veil coiled close to her, and she closed her eyes for only a minute...