This is what I've been working on for almost a year now. It's still not done, it's over 100,000 words at this point, and they've only just gotten to Skyhold. But I'm going to start posting now since otherwise I'll be sitting on it for another year or so. And also because I REALLY want to share this with you guys. It's been a lot of fun to write (well, sometimes painful; but mostly fun?).

I can't really think of any warnings except for the usual body horror thing given that this is Dragon Age, and there are all sorts of body horror things associated with the blight and everything with it (isn't red lyrium AWESOME?). Also, this is an ensemble cast. Mostly told from Hawke's POV except for some exceptions, but we're going to be seeing LOTS of other characters. Including some old friends from Dragon Age 2! Although they don't crop up until wayyy later. Except for Varric and Anders.

On that note, this is very much an Anders-positive story. Also Justice-positive for that matter. I have a lot of head canons about these two, and they will be coming through in this story. For that matter, I have head canons about this Hawke as well. He's from my most recent playthrough as a mage, and I was so pleasantly surprised to see how well sarcasm and aggression mix together, so what we have in this story is a mix of purple-red, with maybe a slight sprinkle of blue if he feels like it.

blossomsinthemist on tumblr has been an amazing help during this story's writing process! And still is! She helped me figure out the plot, some characterization difficulties, and lets me bounce scene ideas off her all the time. She also has an AO3, so please check out her stories! :D

Anyway, this first chapter is pretty similar to what's in the game. The divergence isn't going to happen until a little later. But things will diverge. This is a different character, after all...

Summary: When Hawke attended the Conclave, he hadn't intended on waking up with a glowing hand and people thinking he was Andraste's Herald. He also hadn't intended on somehow becoming the figurehead of the Inquisition. But intentions mean little in the face of action, and Hawke has never been one to back down from a challenge. When the world stands on the edge of change…what else can he do but leap?

The Precipice of Change

Chapter 1

"You'd better not be dead."

Why would he be dead?

"I mean it. If you're dead, I'm coming after you."

"That doesn't seem like a good idea," he said after a moment, turning his head to look back at Anders, who was glaring furiously at him.

"What part of this was a good idea?" Anders demanded, light flickering across his skin before fading.

"Everything?" He tilted his head back, noting the black city floating above their heads, the surrealistic quality of their surroundings. Yet it felt realer than usual; a streak of pain flared through his hand.

There was a disbelieving snort. "No, love. You – I hope you aren't dead. I hope this is actually you and not just a spirit."

That reminded him that Anders shouldn't even be here. "How are you even here?"

"Justice can find you," Anders said, frowning slightly. "This is the Fade."

The Black City, yes. He glanced up at it, eyes going sideways to what seemed like a gaping hole in the fabric of the Fade. There was the vague inclination he should be worried about it, but he just…wasn't.

He clenched his hand involuntarily as another pulse of pain streaked through it. "You're safe?" he asked.

Anders's eyes turned white, his voice reverberating now as two spoke. "Yes." Justice drew back for Anders to speak, sounding helpless, "But you aren't. Please." He reached out as if to touch. "Don't be dead." His voice cracked.

He didn't respond, eyes locked on Anders's as he reached out to touch as well. But his hand went straight through Anders's, and green light sparked from his palm—

Hawke started, jolting and pulling on the metal bindings around his wrists, eyes on the green sliver of light in his left palm. Sharp fire lanced through it, and he winced before he could stop the reflex.

Clenching his hand into a fist, Hawke forced himself to take a deep breath, evaluating his physical state and surroundings.

He was alive. That was clear. Otherwise he was pretty sure that he'd be somewhere other than a dank cell and accompanied by guards suspiciously eyeing him like he'd murdered the Divine before them while cackling and dancing on her bones.

He felt…fine. Other than the searing pain in his palm that pulsed like a heartbeat.

It was magic – that much was clear – but Hawke was uncertain as to what kind of magic. Only that it felt rather like the Fade if he focused on it.

But focusing on it only magnified the pain, so he withdrew his focus to elsewhere.

His mana was still in easy reach, so either they didn't know he was a mage or didn't think him a threat. Hawke was more inclined to believe the former than the latter, especially if they'd figured out his actual identity.

But if they had…he rather doubted that he would have woken up in chains.

Biting back a hiss as whatever was on his palm flared again, Hawke resettled his weight to sit more comfortably. Or as comfortably as he could.

It really wasn't comfortable at all.

Resisting the urge to poke at the light on his palm, Hawke closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe slowly and not prod at the unknown magic. He could do that later once he figured out how he'd gotten here, since he'd last been in the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

He hadn't seen Varric, but that hadn't been the point of going.

Hawke had arrived at the temple without any issues, and he could remember that well enough. Tensions had been rife between the mages and templars there, but no one had attacked anyone on either side.

That could have had something to do with the guards wearing the unusual uniforms, but Hawke hadn't bothered to ask who they were. He hadn't exactly been at the Conclave on an invite, after all.

The problem was…what had happened at the Conclave?

There was…

Something had happened. He'd been sneaking through the temple, and then—

Spiders? Something glowing? And…but he'd been in the Fade? Again? He'd seen Anders, and now he was here with no idea as to how he had jumped from the temple to being locked up in a cell.

The blank spot in his memory frustrated him, but there was nothing there. Only there should have been.

The sound of the lock opening on his cell door had Hawke opening his eyes to meet the fearful and angry gaze of one of his guards. He held their gaze steadily, refusing to be cowed.

The guard didn't speak, stepping in to haul Hawke to his feet by the elbow and push him out of the cell and to the middle of the room. There he was unceremoniously shoved to the floor again, Hawke barely catching himself in time before his knees slammed into the unforgiving stone.

Huffing, Hawke resettled himself, clenching his hand as another streak of pain lanced through it. Light flared through his closed fist, sickly green and unfamiliar. The strange magic tickled at his senses, grating against his nerves.

But there was panic just under the surface, his stomach slightly unsettled despite his attempts at pushing it down. He couldn't afford to panic here. He was alive and able to fight, and that was really all that mattered.

Hawke could do this, he could—

The strange mark pulsed once more before the doors slammed open and two people entered. He didn't recognize the first, but the second was…Leliana?

Forcing himself to breathe slowly, pushing the simmering panic down, Hawke kept quietly still.

Neither spoke for a long moment, Leliana coming up on Hawke's right side to peer at him with piercing eyes. She didn't seem to recognize him, which was a point in Hawke's favor and helped settle some of the nerves.

The unfamiliar woman circled threateningly around Hawke, footsteps loud against the stone before she leaned down to say, "Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now."

Hawke barely managed to resist flinching at the sudden sound of her voice.

Calm down, calm down.

She straightened, finishing her circle around Hawke. "The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you."

Okay, that…that was something he could focus on. Something other than the panic and his lack of knowledge.

How had the Conclave been destroyed?

And how in Andraste's name was it always him who drew the short straw?

The unfamiliar woman reached down to pull his left hand up, snapping, "Explain this."

Hawke yanked his arm away before he could help himself, glaring at her. The magic in his hand flared sharply, streaking pain up his arm before it dissipated. The woman stared down at him for another moment, eyes sharp and clearly expecting an answer.

Swallowing down the remaining nerves, Hawke reached for his default weapon. "You know as much as I do, which would seem to be absolutely nothing."

The woman didn't seem amused at his wit, although that could probably be because he hadn't exactly said it nicely. "Don't be smart with me. The mark is on your hand."

"That doesn't mean I know how it got there." Hawke couldn't keep the irritation out of his tone. "Let alone how I came to be here."

The woman lunged forward. "You're lying!"

Leliana snatched her back before she could do much more than attempt to strangle Hawke. "We need him, Cassandra!"

"Which would be why I'm locked up here," Hawke said before he could stop himself. "Your logic is incredibly sound."

"You fell out of the Fade," Cassandra said sharply. "You were the sole survivor of what destroyed the Conclave. Did you think we would do anything else?"

Hawke decided to ignore the bit about falling out of the Fade. Surely that hadn't happened. "You think I destroyed it?"

"Do you remember what happened?" Leliana asked before Cassandra could speak again. "How this began?"

"I don't." Hawke shifted, nails digging into the palm of his left hand as he forced his muscles to relax. The strange mark was calm for the moment. "But there were spiders and something glowing involved. Make of that what you will."

"Was there any sign of a woman?"

The question seemed utterly nonsensical, and Hawke made clear his opinion of it by raising an eyebrow.

There was a disgusted noise from Cassandra. "You fell out of the Fade," she said from behind him, "and there was a woman behind you."

"Because women live in the Fade." But even as Hawke said it, he couldn't help but think about what that glowing thing had looked like. It might have been a woman? If one squinted and looked sideways.

Ugh, his head hurt.

Cassandra was looking vaguely murderous by now.

"Cassandra." The word was quiet but hard.

Twisting her lips and glowering down at Hawke, Cassandra turned to Leliana. "Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take him to the Rift."

With one last concerned look for the two of them, Leliana left, picking up her pace as she was out of sight.

Once alone with the guards, Cassandra pulled out a key to open the shackles locking Hawke's hands in place.

"This 'Rift' sounds ominous." Hawke rubbed his wrists, letting Cassandra help pull him to his feet before she pulled out some rope to bind his hands. "Any chance you'll tell me what it is?"

Cassandra didn't answer immediately, attention focused on tightening the rope. "It…will be easier to show you."

The words didn't make Hawke feel any better, heart skipping a beat. Something was clearly wrong; Hawke didn't need the strange mark on his hand to tell him that, although it certainly helped.

It pulsed painfully, throbbing up his arm. It was manageable so far – Hawke had had worse injuries – but it wasn't something he wanted to live with long term.

If he could just figure out how to manage it—

His thoughts stuttered to a halt as they stepped outside into the freezing cold, sprinkles of snow falling on his face as the wind whipped past them. The snow crunched under his feet, uneven and slippery in places.

But Hawke's attention was on the massive hole in the sky. The hole that was glowing that same sickly green as the mark on his hand.

"We call it 'the Breach.' It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour." Cassandra turned her head to look back at him. "It's not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave."

"Bullshit." Hawke forced himself to look away and meet Cassandra's eyes. He squared his shoulders, confident that he at least knew this. "You can't just tear a hole into the Fade because of an explosion."

"Ordinarily I would agree with you, but this one did." Cassandra glanced over her shoulder to look at it again. "It's hard to argue with that, wouldn't you say?"

Hawke pulled in a sharp breath, eyes flickering to the Breach. "I didn't do that," he said flatly.

"You are our only suspect for the moment." Cassandra's eyes were piercing.

"The only one you found." Since Hawke was 100% sure he didn't go ripping holes in the fabric of nature.

Cassandra's lips thinned. "We need to act now, lest the Breach grow to swallow the world."

"Can it…do that?"

"It's growing larger as time passes. I would rather not wait to find out if it will stop on its own. Would you?"

Really, there was nothing Hawke could say to that.

A loud explosion rang through the air, the Breach seeming to pulse.

And the mark on Hawke's hand exploded into fiery pain, so much worse than before. He staggered sideways, crying out and hunching over, tightly fisting his hand as if that could help.

It was glowing a fierce green, the magic radiating off it making Hawke nauseous.

The mark pulsed again, stronger than before, and Hawke's knees gave way. He curled into a ball, his left hand tucked in tightly against his stomach. Pulling in rapid tight breaths through his teeth, Hawke focused on the mark and tried to isolate the magic from where it was coursing through his body.

Cassandra was talking to him, but he couldn't be bothered to pay attention.

The magic slipped through his hands as he tried catching it, too bright and sharp for his senses. But it was magic.

And he could do magic.

With a small grunt of effort, Hawke managed to squash it, managing to coax the magic to being somewhat stable instead of streaking up his arm.

"It may be the key to stopping this," Cassandra said when Hawke looked up, her gaze steady.

Hawke dropped his eyes to the glowing mark, flexing his fingers. It wasn't even in question, was it? If he could fix this somehow, then he was going to do it. "Then take me there."

Surprise flickered over Cassandra's face, only to be quickly wiped out with a carefully blank expression. She did help him to his feet, her grip reassuring for a moment before she let go and pushed him ahead to walk.

Hawke set his gaze forward, ignoring the stares of the people around him, and put his mind to the task ahead.

It was just another quest. He could do this.

He would have to in order to get back to Anders.

Of course things weren't ever that simple, were they?

The Breach was spitting out demons.

It wasn't as if he wasn't used to fighting, but he was used to having more backup than a suspicious woman who looked like she could go toe-to-toe with Fenris.

Still, the normality of it helped settle the last of his nerves. Fighting was something he was good at, even if he was dodging more than fighting at the moment.

Cassandra was doing fine facing off the one that had appeared a ways off, but Hawke was facing down another, and while he could certainly flash fry it, he didn't think showing his hand yet was a good idea.

Ducking the demon's swipe, Hawke dove for the debris of the bridge that had collapsed under their feet. Surely there had to be something there?

It took a moment and more scrabbling than Hawke was comfortable with, but he managed to get his hands on a dagger. He promptly threw it into the shade, kicking it for good measure.

Shrieking, the shade clutched at the dagger, trying in vain to pull it out.

Hawke lunged at it, grasping hold of the dagger's hilt and channeling a burst of focused electricity through it. The shade exploded a moment later, its shriek ringing through his head.

Shaking his head, Hawke tightened his grip around the dagger, turning to Cassandra – only to find her holding her sword to his chest.

"Drop it," Cassandra snapped.

Hawke remained carefully still, scanning her face. She didn't seem to have noticed his use of magic, which was good. He would be slipping if she had.

"You'd rather I be defenseless next time demons drop down on our heads?" Hawke said eventually. He twirled the dagger around, raising an eyebrow. "You did say you needed me, didn't you?"

A muscle ticked in Cassandra's jaw, but she did incline her head, sighing. "You're right. I cannot protect you. It would be best if you had a weapon of your own."

"Thank you for your permission, kind lady." Hawke flipped the dagger around in his hand, scanning for another that he could use as well. He kicked aside some debris before finding a second that was slightly longer and not as sharp but would still do the trick.

"You are a rogue, then?" Cassandra asked, watching him bind the daggers to his clothes for easy reach.

"Naturally," Hawke answered easily, shooting her a beaming smile. The last of the nerves had faded in the rush of adrenaline from the fight, and he found it easier to breathe. He flexed his left hand, the unfamiliar magic pulsing in reminder of the fact that everything wasn't all right. "Let's go, hm?"

"Take these." Cassandra handed several health potions out. "Just in case."

Hawke slipped them into the bag at his side, rifling through it to see if he still had the smoke bombs and other explosive devices that he needed for his cover. He bit back a curse upon realizing that it was empty.

Either Cassandra had everything taken out or they had fallen out sometime in the interim. Either was possible.

Regardless, Hawke would have to make do without unless he could loot something from somewhere. Namely a corpse.

He could just hear Isabela preaching the virtues of looting corpses since they weren't using their goodies anymore, were they? They were dead!

He wasn't too sure if Cassandra would agree with that, but still…

Hawke did stop to discreetly rifle through the pockets of a body as Cassandra scouted ahead. He didn't find anything other than some coins that he pocketed.

Quickly catching up to Cassandra, Hawke focused on not slipping and falling on his ass. Haven's snow and ice was far thicker and more slippery than what he was used to in Kirkwall and Ferelden. Granted, with Kirkwall it frequently turned into a disgusting sort of slush, but Ferelden had snow in the winter.

They encountered some more demons, but they were quickly dispatched between the two of them. Cassandra didn't seem to notice Hawke electrocuting the demons via dagger, but he made sure to not explode them and finished them off with a few well-placed stabs.

"Is the mark bothering you?" Cassandra asked as they headed up the mountain.

Hawke pressed his hand against his thigh, checking that the magic was still contained within his palm. "It's manageable. How much further?"

"We are still a ways from the Breach, but we need to test your mark on a smaller rift first."

"And you know of one?"

"Yes." Cassandra jumped up on a ledge. "Come. It is not much further."

Hawke could hear sounds of fighting, along with the familiar sensation of demons. He kept a slight distance behind Cassandra, hands going to his daggers.

The sound of Bianca firing arrows was the first thing Hawke noticed. The second was Varric facing down several demons and accompanied by an elf who was freezing demons in place for Varric to turn into a pincushion.

The rift in the air was the third thing Hawke saw, although it should really have been the first. The mark flared sharply, green light bursting forth despite Hawke's best efforts to contain it.

Jumping down from the ledge, Hawke split off from Cassandra to take down a demon about to hit Varric's blind spot.

It went down without a fight, and Hawke threw his dagger over Varric's head to nail another in its face. The moment the demon dissipated, Hawke grabbed the dagger and whirled on the next one, kicking it over to Varric for him to shoot an arrow in.

The elf and Cassandra took care of the rest and Hawke barely had time to breathe before the elf grabbed hold of his hand.

"Quickly – before more come through!" The elf pulled his hand up towards the rift, something pulling from the mark and stretching out to the rift. Energy surged through Hawke's hand, jarring in its unfamiliarity, but the rift was sealed in a moment.

Hawke yanked his tingling hand away from the elf, eyeing him warily. He could feel the Fade hugging him more closely than most mages Hawke had seen. "What did you do?"

The elf turned to him, lips pulling into a smile. "I did nothing. The credit is yours."

Magic didn't just react like that. Something had pulled from the mark, initiating the process that had closed the rift, and Hawke sure as hell hadn't started it.

The elf continued speaking. "Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake, and it seems I was correct."

"Meaning it could also close the Breach itself," Cassandra said, a hopeful smile on her face.

"Possibly." The elf looked back to Hawke. "It seems you hold the key to our salvation."

"Literally." Hawke clenched his hand into a fist, hiding the green flickering from the mark. "Who are you?"

"My name is Solas." Solas's eyes were keen. "I am pleased to see you still live."

"By which he means, 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.'" Varric narrowed his eyes briefly at Hawke, but his face cleared as he continued speaking. "Which would have been bad, since you're what's going to clear up this mess, yeah?" He was grinning slyly now. "Varric Tethras, rogue, storyteller, and occasional unwelcome tagalong." He winked at Cassandra, who pulled a disgruntled face.

Hawke resisted the urge to stroke his face, which was without a beard for the first time in years. It had been the best disguise he and Anders could come up with on short notice, but it had certainly done the trick.

"We need to go to the forward camp and meet Leliana," Cassandra said, eyes moving from Varric to Hawke.

Varric snapped his fingers. "That's an excellent idea!"

"No," Cassandra snapped. "You are not coming."

"Too bad." Varric shrugged. "Have you been in the Valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore." He tilted his head up to look Cassandra in the eye. "You need me."

Cassandra made a disgusted noise – exactly like the one she had made before in the cell – and turned her back to Varric. "Fine. Solas, what have you found out?"

Solas tilted his head. "The magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen. Even if your prisoner were a mage, he would not have been able to wield the power necessary to cause it."

"Understood." Cassandra strode forward. "We must get to the forward camp quickly."

Hawke didn't immediately follow after her and Solas, carefully not looking down at Varric.

Varric bumped against him. "How about we get to know each other later when we're not ass-deep in demons?" He glanced sidelong at Hawke, the corner of his lips twitching upwards. "Bianca's excited!"

Hawke curled his fingers around the smoke and explosive bombs Varric had slipped him, returning Varric's small smile with his own. "Would that be your crossbow?"

"She's a beauty, isn't she?" Varric confirmed cheerfully. "C'mon, Trevelyan."

Varric's ability to drop important information in casual conversations would never cease to amaze Hawke. Particularly since he had wondered just who they thought he was. Trevelyan was a name he had only passing familiarity with, but it was enough.

With a small inhale, Hawke shoved the bombs into his bag and followed after Cassandra and Solas. The last of the nervous tension he'd been carrying seeped out now that he wasn't completely alone. Varric was here, and he'd always been able to rely on him.

If luck continued to be on his side, then this would be solved without any major mishaps.

Hawke had been decidedly unimpressed by the Chancellor. In fact, he had been decidedly unimpressed by the whole affair, and all he'd wanted was to head to the giant hole in the sky and seal it.

So he'd stepped in and announced they would be going through the mountains, since he had no desire to run headlong through a battlefield filled with who knows what. Compared to that, whatever had attacked Cassandra's lost force would be a walk in the park.

Which it was, and then they were at what was left of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Corpses were everywhere, faces frozen in fear and anguish. Their skin was blistering and red, many of them paralyzed in the same position they had been in when they'd died.

The smell was overwhelming but somewhat comparable to Kirkwall's Darktown.

Only this wasn't Darktown, and it wasn't Kirkwall. It was the Temple of Sacred Ashes and it was in ruins.

Breathing through his mouth, Hawke walked through the ruins, carefully sidestepping the frozen bodies and feeling out the debris before placing his weight on it. No one else spoke, an air of silent horror hanging over them and what the explosion had wrought.

Something familiar and vaguely forgotten tingled at the edges of his senses – something that he'd sensed before but couldn't quite name – yet it was difficult to pinpoint it with everything else clamoring for his attention. The Veil was thin here – thinner than it had been before. He could hear echoes of screams and what sounded like stone splintering. The magic was also strong, tingling at his skin and so close all he would have to do was pull on his mana and picture what he wanted.

The mark in his hand pulsed, energy flaring briefly as they drew closer to the Breach. The pain was a dull ache, but by now he could push it to the back of his head and ignore it. There was no rhythm to when it worsened, but he'd experienced worse and could grit his teeth through it.

At least it wasn't so bad that it would bring him to his knees again.

And then he saw it. A rift – larger than the ones he'd seen before – and the Breach far above it.

How was he supposed to close that? It was – it was monstrous, the magic seeped into the stones around them and so strong that it set his teeth on edge. The other rifts had been manageable once he had practice, but this one?

He didn't think he could close it, let alone touch it. Yet he had to try.

Hawke had enough time to take in the layout of the temple before footsteps sounded from behind and Leliana rounded the corner.

"You're here!" Leliana sounded relieved. "Thank the Maker."

Cassandra's voice was brisk as she ordered Leliana to position her men around the temple. Hawke was too busy evaluating how on earth he was supposed to get up there to pay more attention than that.

"Were you thinking of throwing me up there?" Hawke craned his neck to peer up at the Breach, breathing in the taste of magic and something otherworldly that could only be the Fade.

"No." Solas wasn't looking at the Breach but at the rift, which wasn't doing anything other than sitting there. "This rift was the first, and it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach."

Hawke looked over the ledge, noting the drop and deciding he would rather not break any bones that he didn't have to. "We'll have to find a way down, then."

The path was rough and uneven, stone splintering off when he stepped too close to the edges, but it was solid rock in other places, some kind of heat having melted it together. Hawke jumped down a ledge, hearing the others follow suit, and carefully walked forwards.

"Now is the hour of our victory. Keep the sacrifice still."

That voice – that voice. He'd heard it before – in his dreams and in his waking life.

But it couldn't be.

"At a guess – the person who created the Breach," Solas said in response to something Cassandra had asked.

Maybe Hawke was mishearing it. There was no figure to link to the voice. It was entirely possible it was someone else.

Varric didn't have any hint of recognition on his face, and he was too busy staring at something just to the right of Hawke.

Hawke followed his gaze, only to flinch back at the sight of red lyrium growing from the walls. Now he recognized the sensation from earlier, that disgusting feeling that only red lyrium had.

"You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker." Varric sounded horrified.

"I see it, Varric."

Varric shot her a sharp look. "But what's it doing here?"

"Magic could have drawn on lyrium from beneath the temple – corrupted it…" That Solas didn't sound at all confident about this theory didn't help Hawke feel better.

That red lyrium hadn't been there before. He knew that.

"It's evil. Whatever you do don't touch it." Varric glanced at Hawke, eyebrows furrowed. His lips twisted, but he didn't say anything else.

"Keep the sacrifice still." That voice again.

"Someone help me!"

Hawke didn't recognize the woman's voice, but Cassandra did. "That is Divine Justinia's voice!"

Echoes of the Fade, bleeding through to the real world so they could hear what had happened… It could distort things, make it seem unreal and not like what had actually happened.

Hawke had killed him.

They approached more red lyrium, and Hawke carefully sidestepped around it, holding his breath at the heat radiating off it. He couldn't hear what made it so enticing, but he didn't want to. It repelled every inch of him, something about it just so wrong.

Hawke rounded the next corner, heading down closer to the pit where they could reach the rift. There weren't any other voices coming through, and at this point he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear it again or just leave it be and not know.

Jumping from the last ledge, Hawke landed in a light crouch, the mark on his hand flaring at the same time as more voices poured forth from the rift.

"Someone help me!"

His voice came next, disembodied and distorted. "What's going on? You?!"

"That was your voice." Cassandra sounded amazed and disbelieving. "Most Holy called out to you. But…"

A ghostly image coalesced before them, Divine Justinia floating above their heads and bound in place by red magic. There was another image before her, shadowy and lean with no discernible features. It was as if the Fade couldn't give shape to what it was supposed to be.

Hawke saw himself barge onto the scene behind Justinia. "What's going on?" His face distorted into stunned surprise and horror. "You?! It can't be!"

"Run while you can!" Justinia shouted. "Warn them!"

"We have an intruder. Kill him."

Hawke couldn't breathe, seeing that lean, shadowy figure point at his ghostly double. Those fingers, the voice that he heard in his nightmares, the voice that he heard whenever he replayed that battle—

"Be this some dream I wake from? Am I in dwarven lands? Why seem their roads so empty?"

Corypheus? Corypheus?

Hawke turned to Varric, half-expecting him to have a similar expression of realization and "oh shit," but Varric didn't seem to realize just who they were facing. He was eyeing Hawke strangely, as if he couldn't understand why Hawke was so silent.

And probably ashen-faced. Hawke was feeling a little wobbly at the moment.

Suddenly Cassandra was in his face, jabbing her finger in his chest. "You were there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…?" Her anger seemed to fade. "Was this vision true? What are we seeing?"

"I don't…" Hawke pinched his nose, shaking his head. "Shit, I don't remember."

He'd killed Corypheus. Varric, Anders, and Carver had all been there with him. Corypheus was dead.

Only he apparently wasn't. The Hawke from the past had recognized whomever it was, even if Hawke now couldn't see the figure properly.

"Echoes of what happened here," Solas said, looking up to the rift. "The Fade bleeds into this place." He stepped closer to the rift, the green glow illuminating his features eerily. "This rift is not sealed, but it is closed…albeit temporarily. I believe with the mark, the rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side."

Cassandra whirled, giving Leliana a sharp look. "That means demons. Stand ready!"

Swallowing, Hawke clenched his left hand into a fist, looking up to the rift and the Breach above it. Here, so much closer than before, the magic was so tangible that he could taste it, and it was utterly overwhelming. Even if he didn't have to close the Breach itself, this rift was a great deal larger than the others he'd had to close, and he wasn't entirely sure—

"C'mon," Varric murmured, his voice reassuring.

Right. He could do this.

Squaring his shoulders, Hawke raised his left hand and focused.

Opening it was a great deal easier than he'd expected.

The rift blew open, and the first thing it spat out was an enormous pride demon.

"Fuck." Hawke stared at it, one hand going to a dagger. He glanced up at the rift, back to the pride demon, and then to the rift again. "Fuck."

"We must strip its defenses!" Cassandra shouted, hacking away at the pride demon's legs. "Wear it down!"

Well, sure. That was a great idea.

Hawke ducked under a lance of lightning from the demon, whipping out his other dagger. He couldn't chance close combat with a demon of that size – not without relying on magic – but he could deal some damage from afar.

And with the magic saturating this place, it was highly unlikely they'd notice anything a little flashier.

Pulling in a slow breath, Hawke kept an eye on Solas. The moment he cast another ice spell, attempting to freeze the demon in place, Hawke added his own magic, closing his eyes briefly so no one would notice the flash.

It came easier than usual, likely because of how close the Fade was to this place. He didn't hesitate before casting another spell, picturing the image in his mind and calling it to life: a subtle paralysis glyph that the demon would have to pass over before attacking Cassandra.

It wouldn't hold it, but it would slow its movements enough for Cassandra to get some extra damage in.

Stepping back behind Varric, who was busy shooting arrows at the demon with a grim expression, Hawke looked back up at the rift, flexing his hand. He'd opened it, but couldn't he…mess with it in the meantime?

Maybe it was possible to close it while they were fighting the demon? He could draw on the magic around him to help bolster whatever the mark did.

Hawke pulled at the rift, teasing at the magic and struggling to bind it like he had with the smaller ones. It writhed under his hold, unwilling to heed the magic of the mark in his hand. Without warning, it slipped entirely from his grasp as the demon roared defiantly.

Flinching from the backlash, Hawke wrenched his hand down, shaking it as tingles of pain streaked through it and up his arm. But the rift was more stable than before, and the demon actually seemed stunned.

Cassandra noticed as well. "The demon is vulnerable – now!"

"You think you can do that again?" Varric asked, hitching Bianca a little higher in preparation.

Hawke rubbed at his wrist, deliberately ignoring the green light peeking through his clenched fingers. "We'll see."

The next few minutes were a blur as the demon started striking back and the rift opened again, spitting out even more demons. Hawke jumped around the battlefield, too busy trying to kill the demons before they could get the jump on him or Varric to bother trying to close the rift again.

It would probably just blow him back this time since it hadn't appreciated his previous efforts, and Hawke couldn't afford being taken out of the fight now.

He stabbed a dagger into a shade's head, throwing an explosive at another that tried to sneak up behind him. He flash-fried both in the cover of the explosion, jumping out of the fray and throwing a dagger at another shade that tried to corner Varric.

Then, hearing the pride demon's fading roar, Hawke whirled and lifted his hand up again, grabbing hold of the rift's magic with a wrench and pulling it down.

He realized his mistake only a second later, the sheer magnitude of the rift utterly overwhelming. He knew what he had to do, but the rift kept pulling back, drawing from his mana and the mark in unison until he couldn't do anything but hold on and try to close it.

Closing his eyes, Hawke found he couldn't breathe, breath stalling in his lungs even as he tried to pull more oxygen in.

All he knew was that he had to close it.

Lightning seared up his arm, striking his pounding heart. Hawke found himself flying, only to hit the hard ground seconds later.

He couldn't breathe.

His hand was on fire, he couldn't feel most of his arm, and the only thing he could hear was his heart thundering in his ears.

The green light of the flickering mark was the last thing he saw.

That's a wrap for this first chapter! And to your introduction to this Hawke. Now, for your viewing pleasure, please try to picture default Hawke without a beard. Because he looks so young and so DIFFERENT that it's a perfect disguise! I have a picture up on my tumblr under the tag "inquisitor hawke," which is also where I post fic excerpts and the like. (By "picture" I mean screenshot.)

I do have kind of an update schedule for this. Plans are to update every two weeks for now, since the story is still a WIP and I would rather not leave you guys hanging for a very long time.

That said, I adore feedback! I probably won't answer all questions given that some of them will doubtlessly be answered as the story continues, but there are others that I'd be happy to answer.