It was the middle of the night when a knock came at Merrill's door. Merrill was awake (as was fairly regular for her), but it wasn't common for someone to arrive at this hour.
She went to the door and found a tearful Arianni standing there, wringing a handkerchief between her hands.
“Arianni!” she exclaimed. “What's wrong?”
“It's Feynriel,” Arianni brought the handkerchief to her mouth. “Marethari told me—” she hiccuped and burst into tears again.
“Oh dear,” Merrill fretted. “Why don't you come inside?” she put an arm around Arianni and guided her to the table. “Could I get you anything? I have water, and—well that's it, really, I'm sorry.” she sat down. “Tell me what's wrong, lethallin, please?”
“Marethari sent me a message—she told me that Feynriel went to sleep and hasn't woken for days,” Arianni said tearfully. “They've been trying to help, but they just don't know how!”
Merrill patted Arianni's hand. “There, there,” she said. “Feynriel's a dreamwalker—he's bound to get lost every once in a while. It happens to lots of mages. That happened me once, I was lost in the Fade for three days, I scared the life out of Marethari.”
“Marethari says it's been a week,” Arianni wailed. “His body will die if he doesn't come back to it!”
“Isn't there something we could do?” Merrill asked.
“I don't know,” Arianni sniffed into her handkerchief. “Marethari said she and the other mages have been trying to find him in the Fade, but he's...lost. He's not anywhere near where he should be—she said she worried a demon had gotten to him.”
“Oh no,” Merrill said softly. “That could happen—ooh, I'm so stupid, we shouldn't have told him to go Sundermount!” she shook her head and tapped her fingers on the table, thinking. “Maybe—Maybe he could find his body if it were somewhere familiar,” Merrill suggested. “He's lived here his whole life, hasn't he?”
Arianni nodded.
“You should tell Marethari to bring him here,” Merrill said.
“Would that be safe?” Arianni asked, pressing her handkerchief to her mouth. “With the Templars and everything...”
“We can keep him safe,” Merrill promised. “It would just be for a day or two. Can you send a message back to Marethari?”
Arianni nodded. “She sent me one of her messenger birds, it's still here,” she said. She wiped her nose. “It's such a little thing—are all Sabrae's birds so small?”
“They have to be,” Merrill said, patting Arianni's arm. “How else can they get anywhere quickly?”
“My Clan used falcons,” Arianni said. “Great big ones.”
“I'm sure the smaller ones are much nicer,” Merrill assured her. “Go—tell Marethari to bring Feynriel here, and I'll see if I can find some other mages to help.”
“Like Velanna?”
“Yes, like her.”
Abigail was a little uncertain when Merrill explained everything. “Does Marethari want my help?”
“I don't know,” Merrill said. “But it can't hurt, can it?” she shook her head and sighed. “No one else but me knew much dreamwalking,” she said. “And I wasn't very good at it—I'm worse now, because I use blood magic.”
“Merrill, I don't know dreamwalking either,” Abigail reminded her.
“Oh, I know,” Merrill said. “I just thought we could use all the hands we could get. I'm going to ask Anders and Fenris, too.”
“Fenris?” Abigail blinked. “Why?”
“Well—you can feel him,” Merrill said. “He's halfway into the Fade as it is. I bet he could help.”
“But would he?”
“I don't know. That's why I'm going to ask.”
Fenris only barely agreed to hear Merrill out, and looked very dubious when Merrill explained why she needed his help. “Why would I help at all?” Fenris asked, his arms folded and his expression dour.
“Because you don't like demons.”
“Every mage is a potential demon.”
“Well, that's just not true,” Merrill said. “If that's the case, then you might be a demon too, Fenris.”
He stared at her, green eyes narrowed. “What.”
“With all that lyrium—you keep denting the Veil around you. Oh, I'm sure I've told you this before. If anyone's going to attract demons, it'd be you.”
He scowled at her. “I am not a demon.”
“Neither is Feynriel—but one might have snared him in a trap. Why don't you see if you can help?” she cajoled. “You'd get to fight a demon, I bet. That'd make you happy, wouldn't it?”
Fenris sighed. “Fine.”
Merrill beamed. “Good!” she said.
“Only because I am sure you will do something idiotic and unleash a demon on the Alienage.”
“You're wrong, but that's alright,” Merrill patted his hand. “I'm glad you're going to help.”
He shook her off. “Out, witch. I will be there when you have need of me, not before.”
“Alright—but you know, it couldn't hurt you to be a bit nicer once in a while.” she informed him.
“Go away.”
Anders was next, and was a much easier sell than Fenris.
“I'm no good at dreamwalking, but I'm sure Justice can help,” Anders said.
“That's what I thought,” Merrill said. “You said he’s a good spirit, didn’t you?”
“He is. He should be.”
“Then he'll be a great help, I'm sure,” she said.
Anders considered. “Alright,” he said, sounding doubtful. “But only so you don't do any blood magic nonsense.”
Merrill laughed. “How many times have I told you, blood magic doesn't help at all with the Fade!” she said.
Velanna, of course, agreed immediately.
"How could I not help?" she asked, shaking her head. "Creators know Marethari's going to be of no help--"
"Velanna," Merrill sighed.
"--well, I shall help. That is the important part."
Marethari had gotten Arianni’s message, and agreed to bringing Feynriel to the Alienage. She brought Feynriel’s body to Arianni’s house, and Merrill, Abigail, Fenris, Velanna and Anders met her there.
“Ander'an'atish'an, Keeper,” Merrill said.
Marethari gave a tight, tiny smile. “Ander'an'atish'an, da'len,” she said. Marethari looked at Velanna, who simply glared at her until Marethari looked away again. They all went to Feynriel’s bedside.
Feynriel was pale and wan, his blond hair lank and greasy. Arianni brushed his hair away from his forehead.
“What do we do now?” she asked, looking up at them.
“Here,” Marethari offered a cup of a very pungent liquid to each of them. “It will help you sleep, and to reach the Fade. You--” she pointed at Fenris. “May not be able to help. Perhaps it will merely send you into a normal sleep, but it will do you no harm.”
Fenris looked down at the cup, frowning skeptically, but took a draught from it anyway. The liquid took effect almost immediately, and they all felt the immediate need to lay down and close their eyes.
“You need to lend me the recipe for that,” Anders murmured sleepily, eyes already closing as he sank onto a nearby chair. “Could use it...I always need better...sedatives...”
Everything dissolved, and Abigail opened her eyes again to find herself in the Fade.
The Fade was misty and faint, and it was dizzying just to look at. Abigail felt most peculiar, almost more awake than normal.
“Hello?”
Abigail turned to see Merrill had appeared behind her. Merrill's outlines were vague and hazy, but she mostly seemed like Merrill. Abigail could feel nothing particularly spirit-like about her.
“Is that you, Abigail?” Merrill asked.
Abigail nodded. “It's me.”
“Hm,” Merrill considered her. “Well, you don't feel like a demon, or a spirit, but you can't be certain.”
“Ah,” Abigail nodded. “That's true. Well...you seem like Merrill, and not like a spirit or demon, so I suppose I'll just act like you are.”
Merrill nodded. “Alright. Should we look for the others?”
“I think I see Anders over there,” Abigail pointed, and indeed, Anders had begun to take shape in the mists of the Fade.
He saw them and nodded.
“Anders!” Merrill beamed. “You made it!”
Anders’ eyes gleamed softly, and he had a white, misty aura about his person.
“Anders?” Abigail asked, narrowing her eyes. “Why do you look different?”
“I am Justice,” he boomed, voice rumbling.
“Oh,” Abigail said. “A pleasure to meet you. Is Anders there? Or is it just you?”
“I'm here,” Anders' eyes went back to normal for a minute. “It's just easier for Justice to be here than me.”
“Ah,” Merrill nodded. “because he's a spirit.”
Anders' eyes glowed again, and he inclined his head gravely.
“There you are,” they looked over to see Velanna striding towards them, looking cross.
“Velanna?”
Velanna gave a stiff nod. “Yes, yes,” she waved a hand. “Here I am.”
Merrill beamed.
“I believe that is Fenris,” Justice boomed, and pointed. Indeed it was, or a shape who looked like Fenris.
As he caught sight of them, he was suddenly closer to them, without moving at all.
“Everyone's here!” Merrill said, pleased, looking around at them. “Fenris—are you alright?”
“I am fine,” Fenris grunted. His brands glowed even more brightly in the Fade than in the physical world. “This is no different from a normal dream.”
They all looked at him, even Justice, with a slightly surprised expression.
“This is something only mages can do normally, Fenris,” Merrill said.
"I am no mage.”
“So you have said,” Velanna rolled her eyes.
Anders' eyes returned to normal for a moment. “You're in bloody denial, is what you are,” he informed Fenris, before the glow returned to them.
“Alright, everyone,” Abigail said. “Let's see if we can find him.”
“Maybe we can ask a spirit,” Merrill suggested.
“No,” Fenris snapped.
Merrill sighed, a forcibly patient expression on her face. “Well, how else do you think we should find him?”
“I think we should abandon this foolish task,” Fenris snarled, and folded his arms.
Merrill sighed. “Fenris...”
“What are you all doing here?” came an unfamiliar voice.
They all looked up. A being in a vague elvhen shape was close to them, staring at them with brilliant blue eyes. It was far less solid than any of them, shape warping and misty.
“Who are you?” the spirit asked. “I’m Curiosity. Where are you from? What’s it like? Why are you here?”
“Away, spirit,” Fenris snapped.
“Fenris, don’t,” Merrill said. “It’s a good spirit, not a demon.”
Fenris folded his arms. “There are no good spirits,” he snapped.
Curiosity peered at him. “Oh! Are you a mage?” it asked.
“No,” Fenris snapped. “Why does everyone insist upon asking me that?”
“You feel like magic!” Curiosity said. “If you aren’t a mage, what are you?”
Fenris growled, but Abigail cut him off.
“How are we sure you’re friendly?” she asked Curiosity.
“That is easy enough to tell,” Justice rumbled.
“Oh!” Curiosity turned its attention from Fenris to Justice. “Hello! Are you in a mortal body? I thought about being in a mortal body. Is it true you can’t change shape? I’d hate not being able to change shape. Is it boring?”
“I am afraid there is little time to answer your questions,” Justice said. “We are searching for someone.”
“Who?"
“A dreamwalker. A half-elvhen man, young, but with old blood.”
The little spirit gave a pulse of excitement. “I know who you’re looking for!”
“Do you?” Merrill asked.
“Yes, yes, a dreamwalker! He’s a friend—you know I don’t see so many dreamwalkers anymore? I miss them, there used to be so many more...”
“Can you tell us where he is?”
Curiosity hummed to itself. “I think he’s—oh yes, he’s this way!” Curiosity pointed them down a misty path that appeared before their eyes. “This way, this way!” Curiosity continued to hum happily to itself as it lead them down the path. “Your dreamwalker went a long way! Very long...maybe he went to meet another dreamwalker!"
"Are there many of those?" Abigail asked.
"Oh, I haven't talked to any in a long, long time," Curiosity said, a little downcast at that. "There used to be so many. People used to talk to me all the time! Dreamwalkers or spirit-born or sleepers--oh, but you already know about them, don't know?"
"Know about who?" Merrill asked.
"The ones in uthenera."
They all stared at Curiosity, who didn't seem to have realized it had said anything surprising.
"I used to talk to them all the time! But they're all gone now. Well, mostly, I think, I'm not sure..."
“That is ridiculous,” Fenris growled. “The legends of elvhen who lived forever are just that—legends.”
Curiosity laughed. “Oh, you're funny!” it said. “'Real--'” it laughed again. “What is real, anyway? Either way, you should know—you smell like one of those arcane warriors!”
Fenris blinked, and everyone stared at him.
“Don't you know them?” Curiosity asked. “I've met a lot of them before!”
“I think this might be a discussion for another time,” Abigail said. “Right now, we're just looking for Feynriel.”
Curiosity nodded. “Fine, fine,” it said. It paused for a bare moment, before plowing on ahead. “Have you seen the white wolf?” it asked.
“What?”
“The white wolf,” it repeated. “Have you seen it?”
“Why do you ask?”
Curiosity hummed. “Well, it's been around a lot—it's not a mortal, or a spirit. It feels a bit like one of the sleeping elves or one of the other old things here.”
“What does it do?” Merrill asked, exchanging a worried look with Velanna.
Curiosity shrugged. “Mostly asks questions—oh, look, there's your friend!”
They found a blond man surrounded by spirits, looking a great deal more solid than the rest of them.
“There he is!” Curiosity said. “Hello!”
The blond looked up, towards them, his eyes narrowed. Thought his face was hazy and vague, moreso than any of the others, he was clearly Feynriel. “Hello?”
“Feynriel?” Merrill said.
“Yes, I—yes,” Feynriel nodded. “Are you—Merrill?”
“Yes,” Merrill nodded.
“And there’s—you’re different, aren’t you?” Feynriel looked at Fenris, who scowled back.
“Is this your friend?” Curiosity asked. “Did I help find him? Oh, I hope I did.”
“Don’t get your hopes up too high,” Anders said.
"I can't do that," Curiosity said. "I'm Curiosity, not Hope."
"Not what I meant." Anders sighed.
“Feynriel, you need to come back to your body,” Merrill said.
Feynriel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh—yes, yes, I do,” he said. “Maker above, I--” he shook his head. “I don't know how.”
“Come with us,” Merrill said. “We can take you back.”
“How can you figure that out when I couldn't?” Feynriel blinked at her. “Aren't I the somniari here?”
“Of course!” Merrill said.
“So how come you would know better than me?”
“Because I'm a blood mage,” Merrill explained patiently. “You go into the Fade, and I go back. Do you see?”
Feynriel considered that. “Well, if you're a demon, that's more reasonable than the things I've heard recently,” he said. “Alright. Lead the way.”
Merrill smiled. “Good,” she said. “Come on—now don't get lost.”
They began to walk back, following Merrill, and the Fade slowly started to dissolve around them. After a while, everything vanished into mist, and Abigail found herself blinking awake. She sat up, somewhat dizzy, and was relieved to find that she was back in Arianni's house. The others were all beginning to wake up as well, and she realized Feynriel was awake already. He was sitting up and looking bleary-eyed.
“Hello?” Feynriel wiped his eyes, staring at them all intently. “Oh, please tell me you're real,” he muttered to himself.
“Feynriel!” Merrill exclaimed. “Here,” she held up her hand to him. “Count my fingers.”
“One, two, three, four...five,” Feynriel sighed with relief and sat back, and Merrill put her hand down. “Thank the bloody Maker for that.”
Arianni threw her arms around Feynriel’s neck. “Oh, ma’da’ean!” she cried, and started crying in Dalish, while Feynriel patted her back and buried his face in her shoulder.
“I’m fine, Ma,” he mumbled. “Promise.”
“Where were you, da'len?” Marethari asked. “What happened?”
Arianni collected herself enough to pull back and allow Feynriel to give an explanation.
Feynriel shook his head. “It was the strangest thing,” he said. “I was just—looking through memories, on the Sundermount, going back, further and further—“ his gaze took on a starry look. “I saw things no one would even know about—but I must have gone too far. Something...pulled me towards it.”
“A demon?” Arianni asked, pressing a hand to her mouth.
Feynriel shook his head. “No, it was like—like—you know I sometimes get pulled into other people's dreams by accident? This was like that. Only it wasn't someone's dream. I thought maybe it was another dreamer, Jathianni, maybe, but it wasn't.”
“What was it?” Merrill asked.
“I—I don't know,” Feynriel said. “It pulled me to somewhere in the Fade, somewhere far away—it's hard to describe. It's like someone built something, deep in the Fade. It was a—a prison, or a room, or...something. Something was being kept back, and I could hear it...dreaming.”
“You could hear it dreaming?” Abigail asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Like—have you ever stood next to someone when they're asleep, and watched them breathe?”
“I can't say that I have.”
“Oh,” Feynriel flushed. “Or just—heard someone breathe while they're asleep. Deeply asleep, not napping or anything like that.”
“Yes...”
“It was strange, it was like that, like there was something massive just breathing, but it wasn't real breath, it was more like...the Fade moved around it, in time with it.”
“I have never heard of any demon like that,” Marethari said, her voice soft and her brow furrowed.
“It spoke to me,” Feynriel said. “I mean—it did, but it didn't. Not in words. It was...angry. And confused. And...poisonous.” he shuddered.
“What did it ask of you?” Fenris asked, jerking his chin up.
“Nothing, actually,” Feynriel said. 'I thought that was strange. It was surprised I was there, and then...” he took a breath. “I don't really know. I think it did want me to do something, but I had a hard time understanding what it was.”
“What else happened?” Abigail asked. “Did it trap you?”
Feynriel nodded. “It was—it pulled me in,” he said. “He was...magnetic. And around him was...dark. Terrible.”
“'He?'” Marethari asked.
“Well—I suppose. It felt kind of like a 'he.'”
“And he was not a demon, but he did not feel benevolent either,” Marethari said.
Feynriel nodded. “Not at all. Then I felt you, looking for me, and Curiosity found me,” he looked at his rescue party. “And then I came back.” he looked down at the ground. “I'm so sorry, I didn't know I'd been gone that long,” he said.
“You need to be more careful,” Marethari instructed. “Perhaps this creature did not hurt you, but that does not mean it could not have done.”
“I don't know how to be careful!” Feynriel protested. “Are you sure there aren't any other Fadewalkers you know?”
Marethari sighed, and she and Merrill exchanged a look.
“No,” Merrill said. “I'm sorry, Feynriel.”
“If we knew any, we would have sent you to them,” Marethari said. “I can only advise the same kind of caution I give any aspiring dreamwalker.”
“But a somniari isn't quite the same, is it?” Feynriel asked.
“No,” Merrill said. “Not quite. I think—why don't you just stay very close to your body when you sleep?” she suggested. “And be more careful around the Sundermount, for the Creators' sake!” she frowned at Marethari. “You should have moved on by now,” she told her.
“Our movement is still limited,” Marethari said. “We will be leaving soon, when we are able.”
“Perhaps there is another Clan you could go to,” Arianni suggested. “One with a more experienced dreamwalker?”
They all looked at Marethari.
“I will see who I can find,” she said. “But I am unsure if we will find a suitable teacher.” she looked at Feynriel. “The best advice is to be cautious.”
“Curiosity said something about meeting another dreamwalker,” Abigail pointed out. “Remember? Maybe there's another somniari out there somewhere.”
“We can hardly trust a demon’s word,” Fenris snapped.
“And anyway, spirits don’t really have the same ideas about time and space that people do,” Anders said. “The dreamwalker it was talking about might be in the Wilds, or a desert somewhere, or might be long dead for all we know.”
Feynriel sighed. “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe not. When I’m in the Fade, sometimes spirits talk about other dreamwalkers or somniari, but I don't know...I've never met any myself." he hesitated. “And...there was something else,”
“What was it?” Merrill asked.
Feynriel rubbed the back of his head. “It's...not good.”
“What?” Merrill leaned closer.
“Did you hear—did any of the spirits mention a wolf?”
Anders nodded. “Curiosity asked us about a wolf. I thought it was just the normal sort of tangents spirits go on."
Merrill nodded, covering her mouth. “A white wolf...” she murmured.
“So?” Anders asked. “What does that matter?”
“When spirits start talking about seeing wolves in the Fade, it's hardly a good thing,” Velanna said. “The best case scenario is that it isn't Fen'harel.”
“Fen'harel?” Fenris said with a frown. “How did you make the leap from spirits to your legends?”
“Do you know anything else that frequently takes the shape of a wolf?” Velanna demanded. “The Fade shapes itself to the ideas of mortals. Enough elvhen believe in the wolf that even if it isn't the real Fen'harel, something is taking his image. What kind of spirit would take the image of the Dread Wolf?”
“...ah.” Fenris scowled. “Some variety of demon?”
“Maybe. Or something worse.”
Marethari got to her feet. “The other Clans need to hear of this,” she said.
“You can't seriously believe it's your Fen'harel,” Anders said. “...can you?”
“What else would be a wolf?” Merrill asked.
“Couldn't a lot of spirits take the shape of a wolf?” Abigail asked.
“Whatever it is, it is dangerous,” Marethari said.
“It is,” Feynriel agreed. “The spirits have...started talking about it a lot more, recently. And that thing, I found...it was asleep, but I think it was waking up.”
“What do you mean?” Marethari asked.
“I think there's—there's more than just one thing we should be worried about,” Feynriel hunched his shoulders.
Marethari pursed her lips.
“Surana said much the same,” Velanna said with a slight frown.
“Who?” Feynriel asked.
“The Warden-Commander. Do you remember?' she asked Anders, who nodded, his expression grim.
“And you don't need to be a dreamwalker to see that the spirits keep saying...strange things,” Anders said. “Apart from the wolf motif.”
“What is there to do about it now, if anything?” Fenris interjected.
“There's nothing at the moment,” Abigail pointed out. “We don't even know what the problem is.”
“Besides the possibility of the Dread Wolf, that is,” Velanna said.
“Well, yes, besides that.”
Feynriel rubbed his forehead. “Well—before we do anything, can I get something to eat?” he asked. “I think I've been away from my body for too long—I'm starving.”
Arianni immediately started fussing over Feynriel again, and Marethari came to speak to Merrill as Feynriel rested and ate, and the others recovered their strength as well.
“Merrill, you may still return if you wish,” Marethari said.
“Would you want to see my eluvian if I did?” Merrill asked.
“Da'len...” Marethari sighed.
“Then I'll stay here, thank you, Keeper.” Merrill folded her arms and turned away.
“That thing will be your ruin, da’len,” Marethari said.
“You don’t know that,” Merrill said.
Marethari just shook her head, looking stricken, and they both returned their attention to Feynriel.
After he had recovered his strength, Feynriel returned to Clan Sabrae with Marethari, and this time Arianni came with him. There wasn't much else they could do. Apart from the strange visions and warnings he had, there wasn't much else for them to go on, so they were forced to wait and see what might happen next.