Chapter 56: Nuraya

The massive crowd gathered at the shrine of Mythal watched Nuraya with curiosity. As a thousand elven eyes followed her every flinch and nervous tic, she was reminded of when she had the audacity to ask for the Circle's independence from the Chantry at Alistair's coronation. While she had no intention of opening her mouth this time, her palms were just as sweaty and she felt as out of place. At least then, she had been able look out into the crowd and get a reassuring nod from Wynne or a wink from Leliana. This time she was alone. She drew in a shaky breath. Best get used to that. Alagan was thin on grandfatherly support, as he was too preoccupied with ritual preparations to pay her any attention. She looked out into the sea of faces again—Saunière was too busy writing, Carver was too distracted, Tassilo was nowhere to be found and Kess wasn't coming.

A dozen mages surrounded her, waiting patiently for Alagan to serve the lyrium. Out came another deep breath as she scanned the crowd, hoping it might distract her from the other pang that had formed in her belly. This wasn't nerves. This was… whatever had transpired with Kessler. Given everything she had fought for during the Blight, she found it highly ironic that he found fault with her ethics when it came to magic. She bit her quivering lip before her eyes could well with frustrated tears. Determined to keep herself in check, she pulled back her shoulders and gazed into the sea of bewildered faces.

Movement in the crowd caught her attention. It was Kess and Tassilo sauntering down the steep steps towards the front. A smile crept across her face—there was no controlling it. But then a thought occurred that shadowed her unspoken optimism. Was he coming to stop her?

Nervously, she looked over at Alagan, still in the midst of his preparations. He hadn't noticed Kessler's arrival, and if he had, it had no impact on his work. Her eyes darted back to Saunière—surely he would protest if Kessler tried anything? But he too seemed completely unbothered by his arrival, even slid over slightly to make room for Kess to take a seat. What could that mean?

Eventually, Kessler's gaze met hers, landing like a punch to the gut. It only served to remind her that like every other lovesick idiot, she had let her guard down long enough to make a total fool of herself. Even though there was that brief, fleeting moment when he admitted that his own feelings mirrored her own, she had to accept that things would go no further. She searched for some sign in his expression, but she saw nothing—no anger, regret… nothing.

Just as her mind started to race, Alagan held both arms aloft and stepped forward. The rumble of the crowd came to an immediate and eerie silence. Her heart pounded so hard that she was certain that everyone in the amphitheatre could hear it.

"Welcome, sisters and brothers of the Dirth'atishan." Alagan's voice, normally soft with tinges of gruff wisdom, echoed with bold assuredness. The audience straightened in their seats.

"We call upon the great mother to bestow her grace upon us, to provide a gentle touch to those who could not be with us, and to walk in shadow with those who have already left our company."

The elves muttered their agreements, but quieted once Alagan continued his speech. "With Mythal's blessing, we awaken Sathena from Uthenera to guide this Warden through the perils of the Fade." He took a step back and held out a hand to Nuraya. She didn't need to look around to know that every single eye was upon her again. Her response came as a simple nod, hoping that she expressed the appropriate amount of deference for the situation.

His tone softened. "Are you ready, friend?"

In the loudest, boldest voice she could muster, she proclaimed, "I am." She didn't want to leave any room for doubt, especially now that Kessler was there.

"Your hand," he said, with a nod. From the folds of his robe, he pulled out a knife; its blade caught the flickering torchlight as he took a step toward her.

She did as she was asked with a sensible degree of trepidation. He turned her hand palm-side upwards, then poised the ceremonial knife over it, speaking in a tone that only she could hear. "This will hurt, but only for a moment."

She took another deep breath and nodded.

"Mages!" Alagan called, his eyes scanning the elves who encircled them. They stiffened to attention. "Begin!"

The mages pointed their staves toward the audience. Magic zapped in the air, sending a chill over her entire body.

White billowing smoke poured from the heads of each staff, curling and snaking toward the seated elves, wreathing and entwining them in misty ropes. After a few minutes, the entire congregation of elves nodded their heads. Their eyes blinked in fits of sleepiness.

She looked up at Alagan, the knife still hovering over her palm and whispered "What is happening?"

"The mages are drawing out the sleep energy from the crowd and will use it to weave the spell. Once everyone is in a deep sleep, I will channel the energy to your blood. This should rouse Sathena."

It only occurred to her now that this elusive Spirit of Dreaming had a name.

As Alagan's grip tightened around the knife, he gave her an expectant look. Even though terror churned in her belly and despite the small voice that reminded her that this was blood magic, she nodded.

The knife's edge was warm, but before the blade could break her skin, a voice broke the spell.

"Stop!"

Searching the crowd wasn't necessary—she recognized the voice instantly. The crowd, now roused from their short sleep, whispered and murmured their protests, muzzling the anger that burned at the tip of her tongue. The nerve. His timing was particularly cruel and calculating.

There was a collective gasp as Kessler broke through the ring of mages. Alagan seemed to take it in stride. Nuraya, on the other hand, wanted to throttle him, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment to contain her temper that had reached its boiling point.

"Your objections come at a late hour." The elven priest said. Nuraya wished he had used more threatening tone.

"I've had second thoughts," Kess replied.

Nuraya thought of all the ways she might respond, but instead bit her top lip. Kess sided next to her and held out his hand. "I've had second thoughts. I wish to join."

Alagan did not understand the magnitude of this moment and therefore responded with a perfunctory nod. If this interruption was an annoyance, he kept it quite hidden and regrouped his mages in the next breath. Nuraya was so stunned she didn't even know how to respond.

As Alagan requested patience from the audience, Kess leaned down and whispered in Nuraya's ear. "Red lyrium changes everything."

It wasn't exactly the sort of apology she imagined. But it answered all her questions, in addition to sending a familiar, yet bothersome, shiver down her spine. The huskiness of his voice still held power over her. In response, she swallowed hard and offered him a weak smile. Anger dissipated and made room for longing once again.

With little fanfare, the ritual resumed, proceeding uninterrupted until every elf in the amphitheatre was hunched over, head askew and lolled in a deep slumber. Magic hung thick in the air as Alagan drew their power into the hilt of his knife. His eyes were shut, deep in concentration; Nuraya could feel an almost electric charge around them. When the magic felt as if it would burst from her chest, the elven priest opened his eyes and nodded. Nuraya and Kessler presented their palms, his hands dwarfing hers. Alagan poured liquid lyrium onto their open palms, the stickiness seeping between their fingers. Her heart thudded in her chest, the intensity of the magic that enveloped them continued to thrum in her blood.

Alagan called out words that she did not understand, but knew they were both ancient and powerful. The lone voice echoed throughout the amphitheatre, resonating off the stone pillars and into the starry sky above.

In the moment of silence between the verses of his chant, he pulled the blade across their palms. It hurt. She squeezed shut her eyes to brace against it, feeling a build-up of her own energy pour from her wound, blinking away the burning sting once it was over. Alagan pressed her palm against Kessler's. His magic mingled with hers, catching her breath with waves of intensity. More lyrium encouraged the burning sensation to finally ignite. Almost reflexively, he wove his fingers with hers as smoke smouldered from their dripping blood.

As the spell took full effect, Alagan chanted beneath his breath. The smoke curled away with a clear sense of intention, eddying past Alagan and taking a part of Nuraya with it.

The smoke coalesced, taking on a vague, human-like shape, until an elven crone eventually came into focus.

Alagan spoke. "You have awoken."

"Rarely are we called from our slumber," the misty apparition replied, her voice thick with ancient wisdom.

Nuraya had not thought much beyond the slice of the blade and was mesmerized by the unfolding scene. The spirit hobbled toward Alagan with her vaporous walking stick, throwing a suspicious glance at her and Kess, as if they were out-of-place props. She set a ghostly hand on Alagan's cheek.

"The ages have answered, my son. Why have you roused me from my ancient sleep?"

Alagan told the spirit about the plague afflicting his temple, of the Vhenadahl and of Saunière's discovery of red lyrium. If his reports meant anything to Sathena, she showed neither concern nor curiosity.

"Nuraya Amell and Kessler Hawke are two southern Shemlens who have agreed to heal the Vhenadahl."

The spirit looked up at Nuraya. Her eyes, even in ghostly form, still had the capacity to drill into her own. "And what brings you to the Arlathan?" There was an accusatory tone to her voice.

For a moment, Nuraya's mind spun. So much had happened that she didn't quite know where to start, while at the same time, she hoped to not offend the spirit with her momentary pause. "We have cause to believe that someone has left evidence here that Andraste was a mage."

The spirit furrowed her brow and cocked her head, then pointed a spectral finger. "The humans are finally ready to deal with their past, then?"

Nuraya shot a look over to Kessler, who replied with a subtle shrug.

"Do you both understand what peril awaits you in the Fade?" Alagan asked them.

"We've both had the pleasure of visiting before," Kess replied.

"Before the spell is complete, I have one word of warning. Our Somniari, Athewyn and Lerris, will not recognize you. They will believe that you are demons."

"Lovely." Kess said, not attempting to hide his sarcastic tone. Nuraya elbowed him.

"Have Sathena with you. They will listen to her." That seemed easy, Nuraya thought.

"Then let us tarry no longer." The crone turned and shuffled away, her walking stick making no noise as she shuffled across the wooden stage. At the wave of her hand an arched doorway appeared. She pushed it open and entered without further comment, disappearing into darkness.

"Are you ready for this?" Kessler asked her.

She nodded and stepped toward the open door, casting a glance over her shoulder. "I think the better question is, are you?"

She squeezed his hand, still sticky with blood and lyrium and with a gentle tug, stepped into the darkness after the apparition. As she passed through the threshold, she sensed her body collapse onto the stage floor as he fade body walked onward.

~0oOo0~

Time speeds up in the Fade. It also slows down and trying to relate anything tangible from the real-world will quickly become an exercise in futility. It felt as if Nuraya had been wandering the strange and surreal landscape for days. Rocky outcroppings towered above her, teetering impossibly on dinner-plate sized pedestals. She splashed through a puddle, just as she had when she was a girl in Dungarven, except the substance had the features of an inky oil, as opposed to water. When she first arrived, she took great care to avoid them, not wishing to walk around with drenched feet. But when Kess playfully pushed her into one, she realized that liquid and wetness were not mutually exclusive concepts in the Fade. Walking through the strange puddles had no effect on her boots and she remained as dry as if walking through sand. She even reached down and cupped her hand under its thick surface—the strange substance seemed to run through her fingers, almost as if it were a mere figment of her imagination. Once she had become conditioned to the strange properties of the puddles and the mind-boggling labyrinth of rock columns, she fell into superficial discussion with her companion. She worked hard to skirt anything remotely personal, hoping the Fade was enough of a diversion for him.

"It would have been nice if she had given us some directions." Nuraya leaned on her staff and stared down a narrow canyon which confirmed that the maze of rock, dark puddles and tumbling water went on for miles—if distance was an actual measurable thing in the Fade.

"Turn left where the water pours upwards… Hang a right at that phallic-shaped rock… "

Kess leaned against a rocky pillar and used it to scratch his back.

"How are we supposed find her? Did you ever lose someone in the Fade?" She looked down at her palm. Her Fade-body also bore the telltale evidence of blood magic. Absentmindedly, she traced a finger over the wound, feeling nothing.

"The only thing I remember was the constant onslaught of demons." He looked around. "Which makes me wonder why it's been so quiet here."

"Almost too quiet."

Kess shot her a suspicious look. She felt uneasy as well. In her experience, the Fade was far from simple and predictable.

With a loud, frustrated sigh, she turned around and used her staff to point in a random direction. "We haven't been over there yet."

"Okay… let's go see what trouble we can find over there."

She turned around and glared at him, speaking in her best sarcastic tone. "I'm open to suggestions."

He walked in the direction she had indicated. "Let's see if we can find a sick puppy to save over there."

She didn't mind the ribbing. In fact, it helped keep her mind off the sense of dread that loomed at the back of her mind.

"You're beginning to remind me of an old friend of mine."

Together they continued to wander through the winding maze of rock and shallow water.

"Do tell!" He replied with a flirtatious smile, "The gifted mage or the handsome hero?"

She was not about to make comparisons with Alistair. "Gifted hedge witch." She paused, not able to contain a smirk. "Who also appears to control the Order of the Dragon." She was pleased to see that her own witty volley hit its mark—he looked slightly stunned and thought a moment before speaking.

"Then, I should thank you for your vote of confidence!" He stroked his beard as he continued to think on what she had just said.

"She was witty. Independent. Opinionated. And in case you are curious, I don't think you're conspiring with a secret organization of mages. In all seriousness, I can't stop thinking about her. How did she get wrapped up in all this?"

"Infecting the elven heart tree with red lyrium in the Fade takes a special set of talents. I should feel honoured that you rank my skill among hers." He winked. "But how could she possibly be involved? Why would she wish harm upon a hermetic order of elves?"

"She must be after whatever Saunière is looking for."

"Yes. What is that exactly? Flemeth did want to keep the grimoire out of her hands."

"All good questions. And I can't even guess what this elusive piece of evidence might be—and we've got Professor Know-it-all on our side."

Kess stared out in the horizon in thought, then made a revelatory announcement. "I know!" This caused Nuraya to stop in her tracks and wait for his answer.

With a deadpan expression, he said, "trouble."

Nuraya laughed and gave him a playful backhand on his arm and continued talking, discussing life before their meeting, the events of the Blight as well as the years in Kirkwall and everything else since then. Time stretched again, and then sped up, as this was the Fade. From out of nowhere, Kessler's could-careless manner turned more guarded and alert and his easy expression changed, as if the hairs on the back of his neck had stood up on end.

"Do you hear that?" He stood perfectly still, his eyes slowly scanning their surroundings.

She heard nothing.

"Fuck." He muttered.

She arched an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"

He began to walk again, this time with a definite sense of purpose and determination. Before she could ask him for an explanation, something triggered her Warden sense. Unlike the uneasy blackness that etched down her spine when darkspawn loomed near, this was seductive and alluring, just as it had been when she had confronted the Archdemon. Except, this time, there was no voice. Just a song.

"Red lyrium." Kess breathed words into her fear. He followed a trail of haunting refrains until they came upon a massive henge of gleaming obsidian standing stones.

The seductive call of the Blight echoed through her mind, sending a chill down her spine—if such a visceral reaction were at all possible when her body lay sleeping at the Temple of Mythal. Every nightmare she had had since her joining, every single darkspawn she had slain, and her confrontation with the Archdemon gushed to the surface, all at once. She froze. Kess placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"You hear that too?"

The wilder part of her mind demanded that she turn and run in the other direction. She cast a glance over to Kess and somehow found her courage. "Let's get this over with."

She clutched her staff, the rough wooden handle feeling remarkably heavy as she marched headlong in fear and blind determination toward the entrance of the obsidian henge.

"Wait." Kess grabbed her hand. "You have no idea what red lyrium can do. I've seen how a handful can create utter chaos and ruin. But tree-sized lyrium? In the Fade? We have to be prepared for the worst."

This wasn't exactly the reassurance she needed. Just past the threshold, she caught sight of the Vhenadahl standing majestically at the centre. Massive crystalline tentacles strangled its trunk. Gleaming ruby glass roped around its branches to choke what little life lingered. Dead and blackened leaves lay in scattered piles at the roots. The lyrium and the tree looked as if they were engaged in a primeval, deadly dance.

"Shit." Kess whispered, as the scope of their task became very plain.

"How does one get rid of red lyrium?" she asked.

Before he could answer, she was struck, her body overcome in spasms of pain, electricity shooting through every nerve. Numbness set in her limbs, causing her to drop her staff. By the time she recovered, she realized that Kess was fully engaged in a fight, returning volleys of stone that landed near his mark. From a distance, two shadowy figures returned fire. Drawing her own energy into her staff and focusing on the target, she expected to make out the twisted flesh of a demon, but instead, realized their opponents were elven. A stream of lightning flickered out of the tip of Kess' staff.

"Stop!" she shouted. "The Somniari—you'll kill them!"

A molten ball of fire smashed into the ground not far from where she stood, sending a spray of shattered rock that pelted any exposed skin. A whoosh of heat unsteadied her, also singeing the ends of her hair. With all the latent power she could gather, she cast a protective shield and pulled Kess into it.

"It's just as Alagan warned. Come on. We have to find that spirit." She turned and ran, maintaining her hold of his hand.

~0oOo0~

The Fade does not grant inhuman powers; bodies eventually tire and magic wanes. Nuraya leaned against a massive wall of rock and worked to catch her breath.

Kess peeked around the corner of the column. "I think we've lost them."

Her body slid down the rough stone into a crouch. What she really wanted was a gulp from her water skin, but realized that this was more out of habit than necessity; this was the high strangeness of the Fade.

"I hate this fucking place." Kess muttered, crossing his long legs as he found a comfortable position on the uneven ground. "How are we supposed to find someone when we don't even know where the fuck we are?"

"I've no idea." She managed, still heaving from the extended sprint over the uneven and rocky terrain. "I'll come up with a plan." Beyond wandering the wastes, she had no idea what else to do, but given their circumstances, it sounded like the right thing to say.

They found themselves in a sheltered cove of towering rocks that disappeared into a blanket of mist, where the sky should have been. Nuraya adjusted her position, crossing her legs, trying to avoid the sharp stone that jabbed her uncomfortably in the small of her back. As she shifted, her hand landing on top of Kess's which elicited startled recoils from them both. She smiled apologetically, but then found herself lost in his eyes before shyly looking away. Their tense and uncomfortable discussion at the Dirthatishan temple was still fresh in her mind and she wondered how their situation had changed. She dared another look. He had not moved, or blinked it seemed. Before she could open her mouth to relieve the blush had begun to bloom, he placed a hand on her cheek. His expression softened even more and in the next moment he was kissing her, grazing her lips tenderly. The lightness of his touch and the subtle tremble of his fingers suggested a sense of uncertainty.

Her rational mind stepped aside and she returned with a fervent, hungry reply. Besides the intensity of her own yearning, she sensed his tense muscles relax as his embrace tightened.

He pulled away, just far enough to touch her forehead with his. "Suppose this will ever happen when we're not in the Fade?"

She chuckled, then kissed him again, "Anywhere but in the Fade, again."

There was a scuttle of stones over the rocky ground. Nuraya tensed, sensing Kess do the same.

"Looks like we have company…" he whispered in her ear. He leapt to his feet, his staff poised and ready.

a/n. Bioware owns all. Thanks so much to thinkdragonage for her beta work - and finding the perfect spots where I should show instead of tell. I have to admit, self-doubt took over and I had a bit of a time dragging this out of myself. Hope you enjoy! Thanks so much for reading!