.
Summary:
Grand Inquisitor, you accuse me of committing an atrocity,
unrivalled in depravity since the Magi stormed the Golden City!
I say that I stole the secrets of blood magic from the demons of the fade;
I scaled the Tower of Ishal to grasp victory against the darkspawn at Ostagar;
I slew the Archdemon with my magic to quell the blight itself.
At this farce of a trial, what more of a defence do I need,
but my deeds themselves?

Blight-Queller
Chapter 1
Fire from the Gods

-(=DAO=)-

There is a city, dead and broken and shattered by blight and blood magic.

In the city, there is a room, vast and dark and silent.

In the room, there is a man being tried for a crime so heinous it is yet without a name.

-(=DAO=)-

Grand Inquisitor, you have asked me many questions today, made many accusations, and needled me with many more insinuations. And I promise you that I will answer each and every one of them – questions and accusations and insinuations all. You need only listen to a story – my story – for without said story you will not understand the nature and the necessity of the tragedy that befell Denerim.

-(=DAO=)-

Where should we begin? This is a difficult question. Perhaps it will be best to start with my name.

Names are important. They tell you something of a man.

There are many different kinds of names.

There is the given name. It is the name given to you by your parents. It is the name that you yourself use, the name that is imprinted upon your soul, the name that never fails to turn your head when called.

Then there is the chosen name. It is the name you give yourself. It is the name that tells others of who you aspire to be, and of what you dream to do.

And finally there is the nickname, the sobriquet, the epithet. It is the name that others give you. In many ways it is the most important kind of name, for it shows who you are, and what you have done.

-(=DAO=)-

My given name is Amell. That's what I have always called myself, and it's what my friends call me, but strictly speaking, it's not my given name, as such. Amell is my family name. The Amells are – were? – a noble family based in Kirkwall. My great-uncle, Lord Aristide Amell, was in line to become Viscount of Kickwell. Alas, for my great-uncle's ambitions and my family's social standing, I was born! I exhibited magical abilities shortly after my birth, and everything that followed that revelation was as cruel as it was predictable. I was taken from my parents, and given over to the Ferelden Circle of Magi.

And so, first and foremost, I am a mage. I love magic more than life itself. It is the light of my life, the fire in my heart. My sin, my soul.

Forgive me if you think this unseemly, maudlin sentimentality, or if you think my waxing lyrical about magic is inappropriate in light of recent events in Denerim. I am merely trying to make you understand how important magic is to me.

Magic is simply part of who I am. I live it, and breathe it. Doing magic brings me a joy that I can only describe as elemental. No pun intended.

So imagine what it feels like to be part of the Circle of Magi. We are always under the vigilant, watchful eyes of the Templars. They are ever ready, ready to strike, to kill us for no crime but that of existing. We live in a prison, and in that prison we have no freedom, for the Templars are always there to punish deviancy, whatever the hell that is. The joy that we get from doing magic is always corrupted. We can never explore our natural talents to their unadulterated, absolute maximum, given that ever-present fear that we will be branded maleficar. Even the intimate relationships we mages have are haunted by the fear of losing our loved ones to arbitrary accusations of apostasy.

You can tell that I strongly hate and mistrust the institution that is the Circle. It is a yoke that I have always longed to throw off for myself. Since my childhood, I have had fantasies of escaping the Circle Tower.

Slowly, but surely, a plan of escape emerged. It came about after years and years of discreet, meticulous research. The goal: to escape the Circle. Complication: the Templars keep phylacteries – vials of blood of all the magi – with which they can use to track down and kill any escapees. The system is foolproof – you might fight off one templar, or two, or three, or a dozen. But eventually you will be overwhelmed, and killed. Nor is constant running a solution. They will run you into the ground, like dogs. An elf named Aneirin holds the current record – of distance from the Circle Tower before being found and killed. He managed to make it all the way to the Brecilian Forest, before the Templars cut him down.

So, I had to destroy my phylactery. Thankfully, as an apprentice mage, my own phylactery was held at the Circle Tower itself. A full mage would have his phylactery stored at Denerim, and all the First Enchanters – all the leaders of any potential mage rebellion – would have theirs guarded in the Templar stronghold at the White Spire in Orlais. So as a mere apprentice, reaching and destroying my phylactery was comparatively easier – but still unfathomably difficult. To get into the phylactery chamber, located in the basement of the Circle Tower, you would have to get through a door immune to magic. I won't go into the details of the enchantments, but suffice to say they were old, and they were comprehensive. Destroying them was not possible, even for a prodigiously talented apprentice mage like myself. The only feasible way through the door was to unlock it manually. There are two keys; one held by First Enchanter Irving; the other held by Knight-Commander Greagoir.

Obtaining and making a copy of the First Enchanter's key wasn't too difficult. I was Irving's personal apprentice, after all. I spent quite a lot of time in his office, and knew a lot of his habits and routines. With a bit of effort and subterfuge, I managed to obtain and duplicate his key. The Knight-Commander's key, however, was a different kettle of fish. Being the paranoid bastard that he was, he carried the key with him everywhere he went, and slept with it too. He was no less vulnerable while sleeping, for as Knight-Commander he was always under personal guard by at least one templar.

The solution I came up with was ultimately blood magic. I would control Knight-Commander Greagoir, take his key, enter the phylactery chamber and destroy all the vials there, before making my escape. Templars – especially an old, seasoned hand like Greagoir – are highly resistant to magic, but against blood magic there is no defence. There is a reason why the Tevinter Imperium managed to conquer the world using blood magic. There is a reason why blood magic is feared and hated throughout the known world. There is a reason why the Templars are utterly ruthless in stamping out the art. And all those reasons brought me to the conclusion that blood magic would buy me my freedom.

Evil? Spare me your hypocritical judgements, Grand Inquisitor. Why should a slave empathize with the slaver? If I had to bathe in the blood of ever Templar in the tower to get my freedom, I would have gladly done so.

-(=DAO=)-

But I see I have piqued your interest with my mention of blood magic. Fair enough. Blood magic, is, after all, the reason why Denerim is the haunted ruin it is today. So let me explain and explicate the nature of blood magic.

There are many misconceptions about blood magic, but the first and greatest is the utterly preposterous belief that blood magic is about the manipulation of blood. No. A thousand times, no. People who think that the art is connected to manipulating blood are mentally-challenged ignoramuses.

Blood magic is about the manipulation of the mind. By manipulating one's own mind, one can increase the amount of magical energy that one can channel from the Fade. By manipulating the minds of others and using them as conduits, you can draw even greater magical energy out of the Fade, into the material world. But the most important consequence of all this is that you can better access the Fade, from which you can touch the minds of others, and do unpleasant things like setting afire every nerve in their body, and putting them in the most agonizing pain imaginable. And of course, such access to the Fade allows for blood magic's signature, flagship ability – mentally controlling others.

Blood magic is dangerous. That much is true. Extended and repeated channelling of the raw fade turns you insane. In fact, that was the very reason the Tevinter Mages turned to using slaves as sacrifices, using their minds as expendable channelling fonts – the mages themselves were either mad, or trying to avoid madness. And that – the use of human sacrifices – along with the manipulation of others' minds, raises a whole hornet's nest of ethical issues. Blood magic is dangerous, and in many cases, its use is not merely illegal but immoral. That much I will not deny.

Why is blood magic named as such, if blood isn't actually involved? It's a matter of historical dispute. The traditionalist view is that the overuse of blood magic and the channelling of too much magical energy bring the risk of aneurysm, with visible bleeding from the eyes and nose and mouth of a blood mage not uncommon. The revisionists say it is because slaves marked for sacrifice were often cut up and given non-fatal wounds – to weaken their mental fortitude and make them more susceptible to mental manipulations. The post-revisionist view is the simplest, and most poetic, I think – blood magic got its name because its practitioners were often mad psychopaths with the bad habit of killing people through bloody means. Take your pick.

There were many blood covens in the Circle Tower, as I later found out. I never joined up with any of them, of course. For one, I didn't know that they existed, though I always had my suspicions. Secondly, there was no way to find and contact another blood mage. How would you go about it? Who could you trust? Who would you approach? One wrong word, to the wrong person, in the wrong place, and you would die by the Templar's cold, steel blade.

Why trust people, when you can trust books instead? Of course, blood magic is highly illegal, and its books banned. Still you can't outlaw everything, and there were books, especially the ones only marginally about blood magic, that escaped the Circle's censorship. From these precious books, and with my own immodest abilities, I managed to learn a significant amount of blood magic. Enough to channel the raw fade, through myself or through others, and enough to let me do rudimentary mental manipulations like triggering seizures in the nervous system.

But I could never find or extrapolate the secret I most desired – mind control. The single, most powerful magic in the world. The key to a successful escape attempt from the circle. I was determined to obtain it. So I resolved to do what the Magi of old did, and enter the Fade and learn blood magic from the immortals themselves.

-(=DAO=)-

Ah, is that a look of unmitigated disgust on your face, Grand Inquisitor? Consorting with demons? True, though I must say, I've done worse than consort with demons. But do me the favour of ceasing your petty moralizing, at least until my tale is over.

Where was I?

Yes – I wanted to steal fire from the Gods. The first of the magus cast themselves deep in the Fade in search of answers and power, always power. I would do the same, and delve into the Fade to find a demon, and obtain from it the secrets I desired.

The more I thought about it, the more attracted I was to the idea, like a moth to a naked flame. It wasn't just that I wanted my freedom; it wasn't just that I wanted the power of blood magic; it was more than that. I wanted to do something great, something significant, something incredible. Something difficult, that would prove my mettle.

Do you understand what's I'm saying? Do you understand that drive to do something that might be construed as reckless, just so to prove that you can do it? Do you understand that need to transcend?

Regardless.

The Fade is the metaphysical realm of magic, the land of will and power, the dream that never ends. It is hard to explain to a non-mage such as yourself, but I will try.

It is the Fade from which all magic derives. A mage has a special connection to the Fade, and from the Fade a mage can draw magical energy with which to do spells.

All sentient creatures are connected to the Fade, but can only enter the Fade unconsciousness, unintentionally – while dreaming. The dwarves, through long exposure to lyrium and thanks to genetic quirks, have lost their connection to the Fade, and thus do not dream, nor can they use magic, but in compensation they do have greater magical resistance. As an interesting aside, dwarves who live on the surface tend to lose, over time, that magical resistance. It has been theorized by a very clever dwarven friend of mine, that in the long run dwarves can even re-establish their connection to the Fade. They will acquire magic, and will be able to dream again.

But I digress.

The important thing about the Fade which ever child knows, is that it is populated by spirits. There are the benevolent spirits, not averse to helping humans or magi lost in the Fade. Then there are the wisps, weak spirits that do nothing and are of not much interest to anyone. And then there are the demons.

Lord and Masters of the Fade, they embody the darker parts of our psyche. Lust. Gluttony. Greed. Sloth. Wrath. Envy. Pride. The emotions the Chantry calls the seven deadly sins.

Demons seek to enter the material world. Mages make tempting targets, given their preternatural connection to the Fade. A demon that possesses a mage becomes an abomination. Demons can also possess the dead, giving rise to revenants, possessed corpses, animated skeletons, and all matters of unpleasant, shambling things. That said, demons do not need hosts to enter the material world – they can be shades, shadowy creatures that are the naked forms of demons without a host.

But I am preaching to the choir, of course. You, Grand Inquisitor, will know all that, and more.

So let me tell you something about demons that you most certainly did not know.

Demons are, in most relevant aspects, identical to humans. They have motivations, beliefs and their powers, though great, are limited. And thus, they can be negotiated and bartered with. They can be tricked and deceived. They have weaknesses that can be exploited, as their very names like pride or lust remind us. All that is possible, of that I assure you.

Is this so surprising? Demons are the pale reflections of the minds of people. They are the shadows of our sapience. They are echoes of our desires and ignorance and weaknesses. They are the children of men, and are just as flawed and exploitable as we are.

Understand this. I do not fear the demons. Respect them, yes. Treat them with the appropriate caution, always. Prepare carefully for any possible confrontation, of course. But fear? Never.

The demon I sought was Superbia. Pride, in the Old Tongue. What a wonderfully apposite name, for the oldest and greatest of the Pride demons. More commonly, he is just known as the Formless One, for his abilities to shapeshift. And that, by the way, betrays his incredible might. Shapeshifting is not uncommon in the Fade, but shapeshifters tend to be limited to one form – a form that reflects their personality. To have mastery over a thousand and one forms, as Superbia does, shows a complete mastery of the Fade and all its magics.

I sought him out, rather than the other legendary demons like Xebenkeck, Imshael and Gaxkang. The reason for this is rather simple – Superbia is unlike the other demons, in that his pride is a complex one.

If you would excuse some philosophizing – the ancient philosophers distinguished between two kinds of pride. One kind of pride is nobility – thinking oneself worthy and capable of great things. The other kind of pride is hubris – thinking oneself superior by tearing others down, and shaming them for your own gratification.

Most Pride demons are of the latter kind, more interested in destruction and showing their own superiority.

Not Superbia. His pride is of the former – pride that comes from being confident in one's own abilities.

The Formless One understands that magnanimity is part of true greatness. Lesser demons might lash out in fits of destruction, to soothe their insecure pride. Greater demons, assured in their own power, feel no need for such childish antics, and are not averse to acts of generosity.

And thus, Superbia has always taught magic to those who came seeking. All you need to do is to pass his tests, and show yourself worthy of being his student. Though he is recorded as killing those who fail him and his tests, I was confident in my abilities. I was, if nothing else, a brilliant student.

All this I learnt through books from the Circle's Library. Books on the Fade experienced far less censorship than books on blood magic proper. After all, the Fade is the source of magic, and to try to criminalize books on the topic would be to criminalize the study of magic itself. Even the Templars, with all their ruthless zealotry, did not think to do that.

Or perhaps all those books, especially the ones on demons, were left there on purpose. Perhaps they were meant as a warning to young, ambitious magi such as myself. They all tell stories, of mages who tried to steal fire from the gods and got burnt to ashes for their pride. History was rife with examples of mages who tried to make deals with demons, only to get tricked and possessed. In my arrogance, I thought myself invincible, exempt from the laws of history. I thought myself sure to succeed.

And I did, but almost at the cost of my life.

-(=DAO=)-

On the summer solstice of the thirtieth year of the Dragon Age, I used liquid lyrium to breach the Veil, and crossed into the Fade for the first time.

Entering the Fade, I found myself in a warped version of the courtyard outside the Circle Tower. The buildings were in ruins, the statues had grown various additional appendages, and the trees were twisted. I had expected this, but it was still unsettling. You see, the Fade is the realm of dreams, and it draws upon your experiences and emotions in constructing itself. There was symbolism everwhere. The courtyard – to me, who have lived my whole life imprisoned in the Circle, it represented the outside world and the promise of freedom. Meanwhile, everything was strange and sinister, because I was feeling apprehensive – understandable, I'm sure you agree, since I was about to confront a demon.

Beyond my immediate surroundings, the Fade was... awesome. Awesome and overwhelming and sinister, and a thousand other things. Looking up, you see neither sun nor moon nor stars, but the sky is nonetheless lit, with a soft, green glow. All around, rocks float in mid-air, in apparent defiance of the laws of nature. And looking down into the depths, you see the churning, howling blackness of a primeval ocean. It was an abyss that one dared not stare into for too long, less it ate you. No, I'm not joking.

And in the distance, you see it, floating, the only constant landmark in the Fade. Far away, but not so far. Near, but never near enough to see clearly. The Black City, once golden, but corrupted when the Magi invaded it. A place where even the demons fear to tread.

The Fade is an wondrous, terrifying place, is it not? But all I have described is but half of the story.

Here is the other half – the Fade is not just what is seen, but what is felt. It takes some time for you to be aware, but then it hits you. That nagging sensation you had all along? That eerie sense of being watched? That sense that there was someone nearby, though no one is visible? It all comes to together, when you realize that the Fade is alive, and aware, and pulsing with intentionality. The Fade is, first and foremost, a macrocosm of the mind. It is realm of dreams, and here, everything is determined by the will, not by natural laws.

Keep that fact in mind. For something to happen in the Fade, all you need to do is to will it to be.

Do you recall that I told you, at the beginning of my story, that names are important? Yes? Good, because that is especially true in the Fade. To speak of, or even think deeply about a name, is to call to and summon the creature thus named. Hence the taboo against speaking the names of demons, even in the material world – the ancients learnt the hard way, that it was folly to Name creatures powerful enough to rip your soul apart.

I did it anyway.

I spoke clearly, enunciating the ancient demon's name. I concentrated my thoughts on the demon itself, and willed myself to find him.

The Fade blurred before my eyes, like a ripples formed by a stone thrown into a pond. After a short while, the rippling resolved.

I was standing on a snowy precipice of a mountain, just below the summit itself. Above me, the clear blue sky stretched as far as the eye could see, the Black City the only visible blemish. Below, a sheer drop to the valleys beneath. It was breath-taking. I think I could have stood there for an eternity, marvelling at the beauty of it all.

It occurred to me then, that it had to have been a truly mighty demon that could shape the landscape of the Fade, from one horizon to the next.

But the time for hesitance and second-thoughts was over. I turned away from the cliff, and made my way up the short, steep road to the summit.

On the summit, there was a throne, as large as a small house.

And on the throne, there sat a demon. It was coloured the deep purple of a fresh dawn. Enormous, ridiculously muscled, and spiked all over, it had a tremendous physical presence. But what was really unsettling was that you could feel, radiating out from the demon, a harsh pride and the terrible power to back that pride up.

This was a creature that thought itself equal to the world.

Perhaps it was.

Fear and apprehension crept up on me, but I blanked my mind and forced myself to concentrate only on the task at hand. There was no room for fear. Fear corrodes your will. It feeds the very demons you mean to oppose. In the Fade, fear is death. I banished mine as best I could, and settled my mind into a tranquillity my heart did not feel.

I stepped forward, greeted the demon lord, and explained my purpose.

The demon was silent for a few moments that seemed like an eternity, before speaking, in a voice deep and deadly.

"Mage. Pass three tests of my devising, and I will teach you the secrets you desire. Fail, and I will eat you alive. Do you understand?"

I noted to myself that he was asking for my understanding, not for my compliance. Having approached him, there was no backing out now. Still, I understood that from the beginning.

I assured him that I understood the terms.

"Then let us begin."

-(=DAO=)-

"This is the Test of Desire."

I was in a dark forest. Looking up, I could see blue sky and a steep mountainside. We were still in Superbia's domain – at the bottom of a valley. Superbia was nowhere in sight, though I could feel his presence and his voice echoed in the clearing that I was in. There was nothing of interest here, save for a tall torch mounted in the middle of the clearing. Even from a distance away, I could feel the heat of the fire.

"This test is as simple as it is fundamental."

"You will put your hand into the fire, and grasp firmly the rims of the torch. You will do that for a minute, and not a second less. You are not allowed any mental trickery – there will be no pretending that the fire is anything but a fire.

"Let us see how badly you desire the secrets of magic, Mage."

I admit, I was relieved. I was worried that Superbia might have decided upon a far more difficult test, but this – this was easy.

Let me explain.

My main competency as a Mage is Elementalism. I study and control the elements – ice and fire, lighting and earth. In combat, I rely primarily on generating flames, and manipulating the cold.

And the first truth that any Elementalist mage learns, is that you cannot, ever, be afraid of the elements you seek to command. You want to call down fire and lighting on your enemies? You want to shatter them with the power of winter, or to have the earth itself swallow them whole? Fine. Just be sure that the things you seek to master, have no mastery over you. Thus, the very first lesson we undergo, is what the Enchanters call the Test of the Burning Branch. Colloquially, we mage apprentices called it Sado-Masochism, or simply, Fucking Retarded.

It's quite simple. You take a tree branch, you light it on fire using mundane means like poking it into the hearth, and then you put a finger into the flame.

The trick, as all apprentices learn, is not to somehow stop the fire from hurting you. The trick, as it were, is to not let the pain bother you.

So I reached out to the torch, put my hand into the licking flames, and gripped the rims of the torch. A part of my brain noted that this exposed the palm of your hand, maximizing the surface area to be blistered and burnt by the fire. For a minute, I let my hand be roasted.

How did it feel like? Well, it was painful. You could say it was excruciating.

That said, my hand wasn't injured, physically. After all, we were in the Fade. It wasn't air we were breathing, or ground we were standing upon, nor was it an actual fire burning my real hand.

What was real was the pain – your mind tricks you into thinking that the fire is real, and presto! the pain is real as well. There are, of course, ways to avoid that. It's not terribly difficult to remind your mind that it is all a dream, an insubstantial illusion. And as your ignorance slips away, so too does the pain.

But Superbia had warned me against such "mental trickery". The test wasn't about how well I could manipulate the Fade – it was about how deeply and sincerely I wanted to learn the secrets of blood magic from him.

Well, I wanted that – badly. I wanted my freedom, I wanted blood magic, and most particularly I wanted to do something as notable as learning magic from the demons. No mere fire, and no mere pain, would get in my way.

I told Superbia as much, and he laughed, a deep, rather disturbing laugh that echoed through the clearing.

"Fine. You pass the first, and easiest test, Mage. We shall proceed to the second."

-(=DAO=)-

"This is the Test of Wit."

Again, I was still within Superbia's domain, as the blue sky above made it clear. This time, however, I was on a sharp outcrop of rock some way up the mountain. There wasn't any snow, for we were not anywhere near the summit, but it was still a dizzying drop to the ground below. Superbia was once again not physically present, and was just a disembodied voice echoing off the mountain.

"As the test before was straightforward, this test will be complex.

"Follow the trail out from this outcrop, and head up the mountain. You will encounter other demons. Deal with them as you must. When you have passed the Test, you will know it, and I will appear to you to signal its end.

"Keep your wits about you, Mage."

I looked around, and saw only one path out of the outcrop. I headed for that path, and started the trek up.

By and large, nothing happened. I paid especial attention to walking, to be sure I did not slip and fall. In real life, the trek would have been tiring, especially for a rather unfit bookworm such as myself, but in the Fade muscles mean nothing – all you had to do to avoid fatigue was to understand – truly understand – that it was all a dream, albeit a very life-like one.

After some ten minutes of walking, I came across a mouse. I was instantly on my guard. Things in the Fade are not as they seem.

Then it started speaking.

"Someone else thrown to the wolves. As fresh and unprepared as ever.

"It isn't right that they do this, the templars. Not to you, me, anyone."

While I was merely cautious before, when the mouse began talking, my paranoia became fully engaged, and I was ready to obliterate the talking animal with all the magic at my disposal. The mouse was obviously a shapeshifter, and I would have a fight on my hands if this were a demon out to kill me and possess my body.

Little did I know the truth.

In any case, I asked the shapeshifter what he wanted.

"Ah. I suppose you would be more comfortable with my true form."

Having said that, the mouse started glowing, and morphed into a man wearing mage robes.

"Allow me to welcome you to the Fade. You can call me... well, Mouse."

Warily, I asked if he were once an apprentice mage who failed his Harrowing.

The Harrowing is a test that most apprentice mages are made to go through by the Circle. If you pass the test, you become a mage, and a full member of the Circle of Magi. If you fail, you will die. You can refuse to undergo the Harrowing, but the price of that is being made Tranquil. Sometimes, when an apprentice mage is deemed too deviant or too dangerous, they will not even have the chance to undergo the Harrowing – Tranquillity is forced upon them.

And what is a Tranquil? The name sounds nice, and peaceful, and gentle, does it not? But it is anything but that. Being made Tranquil involves severing a Mage's connection to the Fade, with the consequence that the Mage cannot be possessed by demons, nor do magic, nor feel any emotions. It is horrible fate. It is the ultimate evil. Grand Inquisitor, your Chantry, hypocrites that you are, decry blood magic, but how is the Rite of Tranquillity any better? Indeed, most blood magic only kills or enslaves; the Rite, without fail, destroys a fundamental part of your humanity.

Do you honestly believe that it is a necessary evil?

Truly?

Then perhaps we two are not so very different after all.

But that is not to the point. We are not debating ethics, though that is a favourite pastime of mine. Let us return to the topic at hand.

The Harrowing – the test itself involves ingesting liquid lyrium and entering the Fade. In the Fade, you will confront a demon, summoned by the senior mages, who promise it the chance to possess a mage's body. The test is designed to root out mages who are not strong enough to resist demonic possession. If you best the demon, you keep your life and are promoted past apprenticeship. If you fail, as many do, then you become an abomination, which the vigilant templars will then destroy.

Lambs to the slaughter.

Of course, the Harrowing is meant to be top secret. Still, you can't stop everyone who has undergone to Harrowing from talking – that would basically be every Mage in the Circle, ever. It wasn't difficult to discover everything about the Harrowing that I wanted to know.

Incidentally, it was my own Harrowing that pushed me to make my journey into the Fade at the summer solstice. It is customary that apprentices are not made to undergo the Harrowing until they reach eighteen and thus the age of consent – so that they'll be consenting adults capable of "agreeing" to the test or to the Rite of Tranquillity.

Harrowings are sometimes delayed by a few years, if the senior enchanters do not think an apprentice ready for the test.

I, on the other hand – and here, let me put aside all false modesty – was a prodigy, and Irving's own favoured apprentice. He would let me take the test as soon as possible, which would be my birthday in early winter. Naturally, failure was not an option, and I would be forced to pass the Harrowing with flying colours. And then my Phylactery would be sent to Denerim, out of my grasp forever. So, I didn't have much time to prepare, and I had to complete my journey into the Fade as soon as possible.

Ironically, it was my Harrowing that allowed me to do so much research on the Fade and demons. Irving indulged me, and lent me a lot of books I would not otherwise have managed to obtain. He doubtlessly thought I had resourcefully found out about the Harrowing, and was secretly studying and preparing for it, so he tried to help as best as he could.

He was like a father to me.

Do I want to say more?

No.

Let us avoid going on too many tangents. To return to the topic of the second test, the Test of Wit: I suspected Mouse to be an apprentice that had failed his own Harrowing.

What reason did I have to believe such a thing? Well, for one, he wore mage robes, and spoke and acted like an apprentice. Secondly, mages can remain in the Fade, mentally, even as their physical bodies are destroyed. And thirdly, his shapeshifting form was that of a mouse. As I've mentioned before, shapeshifters in the Fade tend to turn into animals that reflect their personalities. A person's shapeshifted form being a mouse – that shows that the person thinks of themselves as a mouse. It suggests that they are cowardly, more inclined to hide than fight. No demon would ever take such a pathetic form, let alone the demons of Pride and Envy – the ones most likely to try to deceive humans in the Fade. From all these subtle clues and pieces of information, I deduced that he was what he seemed to be – a mage apprentice who ran away from the demon during his Harrowing, following which the Templars destroyed his body, for fear it would be possessed.

I thought I was so clever, to have deduced so much from so little.

That was my first error in judgement.

Regardless, Mouse answered my query.

"Yes, I... I did undergo the Harrowing. It's fuzzy, that time before. They wake you up in the middle of the night and drag you to the Harrowing chamber and then...

"The templars kill you if you take too long, you see. They figure you failed, and they don't want something getting out.

"That's what they did to me, I think. I have no body to reclaim. And you don't have much time before you end up the same."

So, Mouse was apparently mistaken about why I was in the Fade – he thought that I was undergoing my own Harrowing. I did not bother correcting his misunderstanding – I could use some help, and regardless, there was nothing that I could do for Mouse himself, if his physical body really was destroyed.

Mouse agreed to help me as best he could, by scouting out ahead. We continued our walk up the steep mountain trail, Mouse always ahead by some distance, to forewarn me of any danger.

Eventually, we reached another small outcrop of rock. On it, there was a sloth demon, lazing about, in the form of a Bereskarn – a bear corrupted by the blight. Spiked and bloody, it looked a cross between a bear and a porcupine. Unlike Superbia, who radiated pride, this one just... gave off the sense of utter laziness.

I was ready for it – Mouse had alerted me sometime before hand, that there was a demon waiting.

"Hmm... so you are the mortal being hunted? And the small one... is he to be a snack for me?"

"I don't like this. He's not going to help us. We should go..."

Mouse, who had turned back into his human form, was obviously apprehensive about the demon. I, on the other hand, was intrigued by what the sloth demon said. From his words, I judged that there was another demon somewhere in the area, ready to attack me. That demon would be the true test, and this sloth demon was a mere distraction. It seemed too lazy to even bother doing what demons were supposed to do – attack and possess mages.

"No matter. The demon will get you, eventually, and perhaps there will even be scraps left."

I asked the sloth demon what he knew of his compatriot, the one ostensibly hunting me. Every bit of information is useful in combating a demon. In response, however, the great demonic bear simply laughed. His was a throaty, gruff laugh – not as disturbing as Superbia's, but still, it was unsettling.

"I know that you will fail your test and he will eat you.

"Begone! Surely you have better things to do than bother Sloth, mortal. I tire of you already."

I wasn't about to give up wheedling him for information. I repeated my request for advice.

"You look powerful enough. Why would you need my advice? Go, use your magic since you are so... proud of it."

Mouse chipped in.

"He looks powerful. It might be possible that he could... teach you to be like him."

"Like me? You mean teach the mortal to take this form? Why? Most mortals are too attached to their forms to learn the change.

"You, on the other hand, little one, might be a better student. You let go of the human form years ago."

"I... don't think I'd make a very good bear. How would I hide?"

Mouse's spinelessness was starting to annoy me. Hiding doesn't solve anything. We had to face our fears, and I reminded Mouse of that.

"'We?' I have faced more in this place than you can imagine. Fear is... just one more thing.

"But... you are right. Hiding doesn't help. I'm sorry, it's the Fade. It changes you.

"I'll try. I'll try to be a bear. If you'll teach me."

"That's nice. But teaching is so exhausting. Away with you now."

Mouse sighed in exasperation.

"I told you he wasn't going to help us."

I cajoled the demon, asking him to teach Mouse, since Mouse was willing to learn. I reminded him that the idea was his, in the first place.

"You wish me to teach my form, mortal? Then I have a challenge for you: Answer three riddles correctly, and I will teach your little friend.

"Fail, and I will devour you both. The decision is yours."

At that instance, I thought I had finally understood the second test. It was supposed to be a test of wit, and by answering the demon's riddles, I would be proving my wit, just as I had proved my resolve in the first test.

That was my second error in judgement.

In any case, I accepted the challenge.

"Truly? This gets more and more promising.

"My first riddle is this: I have seas with no water, coasts with no sand, towns without people, mountains without land. What am I?"

Ha. That was easy. A map, what else?

The sloth demon harrumphed, seemingly put off by the ease with which I answered his riddle.

"Correct. Let's move on.

"The second riddle: I'm rarely touched, but often held. If you have wit, you'll use me well. What am I?"

This one was harder. But after some thought, I found the answer: my tongue. The riddle was pretty clever – a riddle about a riddle.

"Yes, your witty tongue. Fair enough. One more try, shall we?

"Often will I spin a tale, never will I charge a fee. I'll amuse you an entire eve, but, alas, you won't remember me. What am I?"

A dream. I answered the sloth demon's third and final riddle.

Again, it harrumphed. It seemed quite fond of doing that.

"You are correct. Rather apropos here in the Fade, no?

"But you've won my challenge and proven yourself an amusing distraction. So, I shall teach you my form. Now listen carefully..."

I won't bore you with the details of how Mouse learnt to shapeshift. Suffice to say, it involved willpower, and imagining yourself as the animal you want to change into. Mouse successfully learnt the transformation, and we were quickly on our way again.

Finally, we reached another rocky outcrop. It was relatively large, and ringed by circles of fire. In the centre of that ring of fire, was a demon of rage. Red and burning, it looked like a posturing piece of lava. It radiated malice, and rage, as was typical of its kind.

I was ready for it – Mouse had again alerted me in advance of a demon's presence.

"And so it comes to me at last.

"Soon I shall see the land of the living with your eyes, creature. You shall be mine, body and soul."

Idle threats. I told the demon that it was welcome to try my power, if it dared.

"Oh, I shall.

"So this creature is your offering, Mouse? Another plaything, as per out arrangement?"

Betrayal! My eyes, which had been fixed on the demon up till that point, darted away to glance at Mouse, before I forced myself to concentrate on the demon again. It was foolish to get distracted at this stage.

"I'm not offering you anything! I don't have to help you anymore!"

I admit, I was caught off guard. My assumptions about Mouse were wrong – he was not merely an apprentice mage lost in the Fade. He had obviously done sinister things – betrayed others to this demon of rage.

"Aww. And after all those wonderful meals we have shared? Now suddenly the mouse has changed the rules?"

"I'm not a mouse now! And soon I won't have to hide! I don't need to bargain with you!"

No matter. None of it mattered. My spells were ready, and I could destroy Mouse as easily as I could destroy the demon of rage. I thought that Mouse's deception was inconsequential.

That was my third error in judgement

Still, I was rightly confident in the two spells I had prepared, and in their ability to bring me victory. The spells were: Spell Might, and Mana Clash. Allow me to explain what they do, and therefore, why I was so confident in my success.

Spell Might, back in the material world, allows a mage to draw much greater power from the Fade then they would otherwise be able to. You might ask: How is this different from blood magic?

Think of it this way. Imagine a mage's link to the Fade as an aqueduct, and the water that runs in it, as magical energy. The more the water, the greater the amounts of magical energy available to the mage for spellcasting. What blood magic does is to forcibly widen the aqueduct pipe, no matter the stress exerted on and damage done to the aqueduct itself. And since, in our analogy, the aqueduct is basically a mage's mind... well, brain damage and loss of sanity are concerns.

Spell Might is nothing like this.

To use the same analogy: what Spell Might does is to force the water in the aqueduct to flow faster. Or, to move away from the analogy – a mage using Spell Might will allocate some of his magical energy to increase the rate of flow of magical energy in from the Fade. On the whole, this makes a greater amount of magical energy available, strengthening one's spells, without invoking all those complications and dangers that blood magic is infamous for.

In the Fade, using Spell Might is easy, trivially so. It's like filling a bucket with water when you have already dived deep into the sea. All you need to do is gather the magical energy around you, and direct it.

As for Mana Clash – in all truth, this spell is much more like blood magic than Spell Might.

I say this because Mana Clash is fatal to the targets it is used on, and it is almost impossible to defend against.

What Mana Clash does is to seize the magical energy within a target, and cause it to erupt in a volatile, magical conflagration. It turns the target's own magical powers against them, and as you can imagine, it is supremely effective against any being capable of magic, whether mage or demon. And in the Fade – where everything is composed of magical energy – there is no better spell to use in a fight.

Certainly, the spell is dangerous. Any mage can use it to kill another mage. It is certainly a spell restricted only to full mages, though I managed to learn it from one of the books Irving lent me. He was rather lax with the rules, wanting to help his favourite student pass his Harrowing. When you want to destroy a demon, Mana Clash is the first, last and only spell you will ever need.

So I cast Mana Clash, my own magical energies backed by the use of Spell Might. I was careful to include Mouse in the radius of the spell, along with the demon of rage.

The result was impressive in its anticlimactic nature. There was a flare of blue light, and the demon of rage disappeared. I knew – I saw – that the demon's consciousness had been torn into infinite, innumerable pieces, and dissolved back into sea of magical energy that was the Fade. It was as dead as anything could be. Still, I felt that it shouldn't have been so easy.

That said, I had bigger problems than my sense of aesthetics being offended.

Mouse wasn't dead. He wasn't dead. Despite my strongest spell, a spell that vanquished a demon – the treacherous apprentice mage was still there.

It was then that I realized the truth. All the small things that I missed, I now noticed.

The robes Mouse wore were not apprentice robes. They were senior enchanters'. True, in a small place like the Circle you would know everyone, and would never need to use a person's clothes to identify them. True, senior enchanters did not always wear their formal garb. True, Mouse spent a lot of time shapeshifted as either a mouse or bear, and didn't give me much of an opportunity to scrutinize him. But those were excuses. I should have noticed that small but important detail. I should have, but didn't.

And then there was Mouse's shapeshifting. A single shapeshifting form, reflecting your personality is one thing. Two? For a mage not especially competent? For a form poorly suited to your personality? This should have set a million alarms off in my mind. It should have, but didn't.

And then Mouse resisted my Mana Clash. For an apprentice mage to do that, when a mighty demon of the Fade got annihilated? No. It was impossible. If he were who he claimed to be.

But he wasn't.

Upset at the deception, and upset at myself for careless stupidity, I brusquely asked Superbia to reveal himself.

It was him, of course. Who else could it be? In his pride, he had refused to wear lowly apprentice robes, but opted instead for a senior enchancter's. And whose shapeshifting abilities were known and feared throughout Fade and material world alike? And who but the mightiest of demons could have resisted the Mana Clash?

I should have known. Should have, but didn't.

Mouse glowed, and as the disguise faded, the Formless One arose.

"Not bad. A little late, and you missed some of the hints I dropped. Still, it takes some intelligence to see past my disguise.

"Remember this, if you remember nothing else:

"Simple killing is a warrior's job. The real dangers of the fade are preconceptions; careless trust; pride.

"You have passed the second test, Mage. We shall now commence with the third."

-(=DAO=)-

"This is the Test of Magic."

We were back on the mountain top, with nothing but blue sky above, and nothing but valleys beneath. Superbia was back on his throne, sitting there like he was king of the world. To be honest, I wanted to punch him in the face.

"The first test was straightforward; the second, complex; this third test? Nearly impossible for those without the talent.

"You wanted to learn the secrets of blood magic from me, did you not? In this test, I will teach you those secrets, and you will learn. All you need to do to pass the test is to demonstrate your proficiency at Blood Control."

"Come. Impress me, Mage."

A human-sized chair, uncomfortable looking, rose out of the ground, directly in front of Superbia's own throne.

"Sit."

I sat.

"Listen and learn. There are three essential steps that a mage in the material world would need to take, if he is to successfully control the mind of another mortal.

"First: He must establish a sufficiently strong connection between his own mind and the Fade.

"Second: He must establish a sufficiently strong connection between the Fade and his target's mind.

"Third: He must, through the Fade, assert his will over the target.

"The first two steps are basic blood magic, which you are already proficient at. I will not insult you by lecturing you at length on things you already know. What you must do, as part of the Test of Magic, is to demonstrate your ability to dominate the mind.

"You will engage a target within the Fade, and force your will upon it. If successful, you will be able to make it do your bidding. If you are capable of doing that, so too will you be capable of dominating a mortal's mind.

"As for your target – I give you leave to choose your opponent. Benevolent spirit or demon, greater or lesser, it does not matter to me. Choose wisely."

I looked Superbia in the eye, and told him calmly that I wanted him as my opponent.

Why so surprised, Grand Inquisitor?

I would have died? You concern for my well-being is touching. But I am here, so obviously I survived.

Why did I do such an irrational thing? That's a fair question. To be honest, I'm not sure if I know that answer myself.

Partly because I was still upset. Upset at Superbia for his deception, and wanting to get back at him. Upset at myself for having been deceived, and wanting to prove something to myself. Perhaps I was just angry, and my recklessness grew from that.

Maybe because I wanted to be sure that the blood control I learnt was the strongest it could possibly be. That meant testing it against the strongest demon there was. Testing it against some lesser demon might have meant that I never pushed myself and my magic as far as we could go.

And because, above and beyond all else, I came to the Fade to steal fire from the Gods, to forcibly pry it from their hands, and from no one less. I came here to do something momentous, something great, something worthy of the legends of old. I came here to transcend.

Superbia, though, wasn't very impressed with talk about transcendence.

"Mortal. If that is a jest, I forgive you, and warn you never to make it again."

I assured him that it was no jest. Superbia's voice was dark with barely constrained rage as he replied.

"Foolish, arrogant mortal. Do you truly think you can best me? I, who have been here since the beginning of time? I, whose magic reaches from one end of the Fade to the other? I, who threw down Dumat himself?"

I asked him if his pride could tolerate him turning down a challenge from a mere mortal mage. The demon was silent for a few seconds, before he spoke in a cold, flat voice.

"Very well. Know this, mortal. On my pride, I swear I will destroy you."

And then the terms of the challenge were set.

We would sit in our two chairs, face to face, utterly still. We would fight a contest of wills. The winner would be one who took control of the other's body, and made them move against their will.

It is hard to believe that a battle between armchair combatants could be suitably epic, but it was.

I was prepared for this confrontation, of course. Months of research and practice, just for this moment. I hadn't expected to be fighting Superbia himself, but my previous plans and contingencies would work as well on him as they would have on lesser demons.

The first order of business was defence – to prevent Superbia from controlling and moving any part of me. This is the easy part, because you are the natural sovereign of your own body, and controlling it comes as naturally as breathing. I willed, as hard and deeply and sincerely as I could, that my body not move, that it was as still as a corpse.

The second order of business was offence – to control and move part of Superbia's body. This is the truly difficult part, because by the same lines of logic outlined above, controlling another's body is unfamiliar and unnatural. All I did, and all I could do, was will, as fiercely as I could that Superbia move his right arm.

It didn't work, but that didn't worry me. As I've said, the defender is at an advantage, and the would-be invader, a disadvantage. We were in a stalemate of statues, and would remain as such until someone lost their concentration.

Thus the third order of business was distraction - to try to force the other into a mistake.

Superbia was singularly unimaginative in this regard, relying on physical distractions – inasmuch as you can call anything in the Fade 'physical'.

He summoned an inferno, sending it burning and roaring against me.

He shattered the mountain, spearing at me chunks of rock, each larger than the Circle Tower itself.

He called up a blizzard, directing it freezing and howling towards me.

He darkened the sky into a storm, and from that storm he plucked out the lightning itself, hurling it at me like an avenging thunderbolt.

Boring.

As awesome as those feats were, they were utterly and completely useless. I was a mortal, and used to living in the material world. I understood very well that the Fade was a dream, a mirage without substance. It was all too easy for me to tell myself that none of it was real. Superbia had the wrath of the elements at his command, but his attacks passed through me like light through glass.

Meanwhile, I preferred my distractions subtle.

To start off, I summoned wax earplugs for myself, following which I conjured up a cricket, small and inconspicuous. And as compensation for making it small and inconspicuous, I gave it the most annoying chirp I could think off – the sound of grating chalk on a blackboard. I let it sing, hoping to distract Superbia. Then, I pulled out the main trick – materializing a flare of light as bright as sun, right behind my head, shining straight into the taller demon's eyes.

To his credit, the demon didn't even blink.

I tried many other tactics. I don't really remember all of them, but one that stood out was me summoning a horde of illusory demons. I set them to taunting my opponent. Some of the taunts were relatively sophisticated, and mocked him for trying and failing to best a mortal. Other taunts were cruder, and were about penis size and the like.

He ignored this and all other attempts to needle him, but I did find it funny.

Do not think of this as useless. The fact that I found the situation funny at all was a triumph. I've told you before – fear will kill you in the Fade. In the situation I was in, any trace of fear would weaken my resolve and lose me both the challenge and my life.

Laughter, meanwhile, is anathema to fear. You cannot truly fear something you find hilarious. It was a way to keep up my own morale and defences.

I burnt through the list of distractions I prepared, until I had to resort to the final, rather desperate one. In the air above me, I spelt out in burning flame, the words "I SURRENDER". I had hoped he would fall for the trick, and, thinking he had won, relax his will, allowing me to pounce.

Again, I got no reaction.

So I moved on the fourth order of business – using the trump I had prepared for just this contingency, a contest of wills with a demon.

I relaxed my defence, letting Superbia's magic seep into my left arm. This was a delicate affair. I had to relax my defence enough to let him feel what I was feeling in my arm – but not enough to give him control over it.

As expected, he sensed the weaknesses and marshalled all his concentration to wrestle control of my own arm away from me. And in response, I set my arm alight.

Pain lanced through the entirety of my left arm. But I was prepared – I didn't flinch.

Neither did Superbia. I could see in his eyes, the shock and anger, as sympathetic pain raced through his own limb. Still, with a force of will, he kept his left arm still and unmoving, remaining as it was on his throne's armrest.

But for one instance – one fateful instance – he was distracted.

So I took control of his right hand, and casually, insolently slapped himself across the face with it.

I don't know which was sweeter – the look of utter incomprehension on Superbia's face as his mind tried to understand that he had been defeated by a human – or the elation of victory, and of the knowledge that I had stolen fire from the Gods, and escaped without having my liver eaten by an eagle.

-(=DAO=)-

Why had I won?

Because Superbia was blinded by his pride.

He kept waiting for me to slip up, thinking that it was inevitable, that I had to. He thought that I couldn't suppress my fear forever – as if I feared him. His pride led him to fail to test my defences seriously.

Doubtless he had other nasty tricks up his proverbial sleeve, but he didn't think it necessary to wheel it out against a mere mortal. He kept resorting to the same, ineffective attempted distractions. It was insane – doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results.

But above all he thought a mere mortal could not have an advantage over him. He was wrong. Demons, due to their power and the environment of the Fade, rarely if ever feel pain. They have, effectively, little to no pain tolerance. The more powerful the demon, the less likely they are to experience pain, and the weaker their ability to cope when they do suffer pain. In the old stories, demons who possess humans often shriek and scream when you harm them. Well, now you know why.

I told you, earlier in this story, that demons had weaknesses. They wear their weaknesses openly, in their names, declaring them to the whole wide world. Pride and envy, wrath and sloth, greed and gluttony and lust.

I understood that, and because of my understanding, I was victorious.

-(=DAO=)-

I spent some time after that exploring the Fade, but soon enough I again passed through the Veil, to return home to the material world.

I did not get the homecoming I expected.

I woke up in a dark cell, shackled and bound at both wrist and feet, with my chains attached to the wall behind me.

The chains meant nothing to a trained mage, of course. What concerned me was the ward carved into the wall, above the door. I could make out a Glyph of Neutralization, which among other things completely prevents spellcasting within a certain area.

I could get rid of the Glyph, of course. I could literally scratch out the glyph and disrupt its magic. But that would require standing up and walking to the opposite wall, which I couldn't do given the chains. And naturally, I couldn't break the chains without my magic and without first destroying the glyph...

Chicken and egg. This was a prison capable of holding a mage. I was well and truly trapped.

No, this was certainly not the victorious return home I anticipated. I had been looking forward more to drinking myself unconscious with my friends, and less to sitting in dank cells.

I bit back a growl of frustration. Where had I slipped up? I was careful, and had chosen an empty, locked room in the abandoned Tower Basement, from which to cross into the Fade. It was supposed to be a safe place where my body could slumber in peace and without interference.

It was too late for self-recrimination. I had no choice but to try to talk my way out of this mess.

I hollered for the Templar guards that would be stationed outside the cell. One responded, and I demanded to know why I was being held here against my will. The templar – Cullen, I believe his name was – told me he wasn't authorized to discuss anything with me, but he said he would fetch Knight-Commander Greagoir and First Enchanter Irving so I could speak with them.

As Cullen headed off to fine them, I worked my mind furiously, coming up with a dozen excuses and rationalizations I could use. I thought of possible lines of interrogation that Greagoir might take, and how I could further develop my answers. I thought of how I could appeal to Irving, and came up with defences designed to elicit the First Enchanter's sympathy. I had about ten minutes, and during those ten minutes my mind whirled with imaginary arguments and possible endings.

Footsteps echoed from the outside of my cell, and the door opened. Knight-Commander Greagoir, in his imposing Templar armour, stepped in, followed by First Enchanter Irving.

I admit, the disappointment in his eyes hurt me as nothing in Superbia's tests did.

I told him and Greagoir that this was surely a misunderstanding, and asked to be told of the crime I was accused of, so that I could explain myself.

Irving spoke, his voice gentle and mournful.

"Child. How could you have been so foolish? We know that you approached the Formless One, asking to be taught blood magic. We know because he himself told us. And imagine my shock and horror when, after an exhaustive search of the Tower, we found you unconscious with a empty lyrium vial beside you. You have always had more than a healthy interest in the more dangerous arts, but I never thought it would come to this."

Superbia! While I did expect revenge of some sort from him, I didn't think that it would be in such a fashion. After I walked away from his domain unscathed, and with Superbia himself only glaring hatefully at me, I thought I was safe.

I underestimated him.

I asked Irving whether it was fair or wise to take a demon at his words. I told the First Enchanter, honestly, that I had approached the Formless One, but not to learn blood magic. I said that I had wanted to practice for my harrowing. I said that I had angered him with my suggestion, and that this was doubtlessly his way of exacting revenge.

I wasn't proud of lying to Irving, but I did think that my lie was clever. It had enough of the truth that I could deliver it effortlessly, and enough falsity to suggest my innocence. The best lies are half-lies, those with a grain of truth in them.

Unfortunately, the Knight-Commander saw right through my carefully constructed bullshit.

"Enough. This particular demon has helped us conduct the Harrowing since the beginning of the Circle itself. We know enough of its personality to also know that it would not take offence at an apprentice seeking help for his Harrowing. You, on the other hand, are not the first mage to have tried to learn blood magic, though none before you were foolish enough to approach a demon to do it. Your lies are transparent."

I admit I was floored. Not at the venom in Gregoir's voice, but at the revelation that Superbia helped the Circle conduct its Harrowing. I knew that the Circle summoned demons with the apprentice mages as bait, but... this?

I tried to speak, but couldn't find the words. Greagoir then broke the silence.

"For the crime of consorting with demons to learn blood magic, you will be put to death. Do you have any last words to say, Maleficar?

I did not.

-(=DAO=)-

So that is how I earned my first epithet: Maleficar. I would be known by that name for quite a while. Loghain had a field day dragging the Grey Wardens' name through the mud, by invoking that sobriquet and all its negative associations.

And that is the story of how I stole the secrets of blood magic from the demons of the fade, and almost died for my trouble.

What's that you say? My testimony only convinces you that I am responsible for the catastrophe that befell Denerim? Yes. Yes, I suppose it would.

-(=DAO=)-

Grand Inquisitor, you accuse me of committing an atrocity, unrivalled in depravity since the Magi stormed the Golden City! I say that I stole the secrets of blood magic from the demons of the fade; I scaled the Tower of Ishal to grasp victory against the darkspawn at Ostagar; I slew the Archdemon with my magic to quell the blight itself. At this farce of a trial, what more of a defence do I need, but my deeds themselves?

-(=DAO=)-

There is a city, dead and broken and shattered by blight and blood magic.

In the city, there is a room, vast and dark and silent.

In the room, there is a man so incapable of living with his crimes that he does his best to convince the jury of his guilt.

-(=DAO=)-

A/N: Comments are welcome. Do tell me whether you think the story is interesting, and whether the Warden has enough believable flaws. It's kind of hard writing a character who is basically a Mary-Sue in canon, while making him or her relatable.