A/N: Holy abandonment, Batman!

So here's the thing, Lovies...not gonna lie or mince words. I fell into a deep depression recently and could not shake it for the life of me. It's something I've dealt with all my life and usually am able to handle it fairly well, but something about this last time was just...harder. It obviously lasted for quite a while and I'm finally starting to come out of it. Even so when I'm depressed I have no motivation whatsoever, and writing—something that brings me infinite joy—is very difficult to churn out when joy is a foreign concept. So I apologize for the delay and hopefully it won't take as long for the next chapter to come out.

That being said, I'm not completely over it so this might not be the best installment but I figured I'd put this off long enough and if I didn't start writing again NOW I might actually abandon this fic permanently. So it is what it is.

Most of the elven language in this is made up as there is very little available on the wiki to pull from. Also the wiki states that while the Dalish can speak elven it actually not the full language as most of it has been lost to time (which explains why Evanthe is a bit lost during part of this chapter).

Also, before anyone starts nitpicking, in this future Cullen started taking Lyrium again, something that will be explained/explored in later chapters.

It's good to be back, sorry once again, and I hope you enjoy!

R&R lovies, reviews bring a smile to my face!

"You're dead."

Harlow uttered the words without malice and no trace of threat lingered in the syllables. They were spoken in disbelief, as if a truth held universal had irrevocably become false.

"My presence speaks otherwise, girl," the strange woman replied, her lips quirking upwards in a mocking grin.

"I killed you!" Harlow insisted, voice gone a bit shrill.

"Did you?" the woman replied lightly before turning her attention to Morrigan. "More importantly did my foolish daughter believe you?"

"Why have you come, Mother?" Morrigan asked through clenched teeth.

"The world spins with great and terrible deeds and the time line has become disrupted," the woman answered dismissively. "I come as a witness to the chaos, to see if I can suit it to my purpose."

"Wait..." Alistair interjected, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Did you...were you living in a mirror?"

"I can see a crown has done little to improve your wits, young king. Though it has netted you a pretty wife. She seems capable, shrewd A woman such as her would have much to offer a world on the brink of destruction." Alistair took a protective step in front of Elissa upon hearing the underlying malice in the elder woman's words, a gesture that did little more than irritate the queen who promptly nudged him out of the way with a fierce glare.

"What do you want, Flemeth?" Alistair asked coldly and Evanthe jerked in surprise upon hearing the ancient name.

"Asha'belannar," she breathed in reverence before bending deeply at the waist. The woman's legend may not have been native to her clan, but all over Thedas people told of the great and terrible Flemeth. The witch held ties to to not only the People, but to humans, Alamarri and the Chasind as well. She had survived for centuries, far longer than any mortal was rightly owed, and the magics that swirled through her story were spoken of in hushed whispers. It mattered little that Flemeth was not a denizen of her land or race, Evanthe knew when she should show supplication

"Why on earth are you bowing to her?" Harlow demanded, striding over to jerk Evanthe upright.

"Because the Dalish know to show respect in the presence of legends," Solas answered quietly from his post across the room. He spoke with such a calm manner it was difficult to catch the slight tremor of worry in his voice, but Evanthe heard it all the same. Glancing at him sidelong she saw that his bearing was straight and proud, and he regarded Flemeth with a familiarity that was startling.

"And yet you do not bend," the woman remarked in slight amusement. "Larelvarel, lethallin."

"Aneth ara, Asha'Belannar," Solas replied, tipping his head ever so slightly. Flemeth seemed to be taken aback by his greeting and she let out a breathy, disbelieving laugh.

"Sharelath sa maran em falon? Grana elvarel?" Evanthe may not have understood the words, but she caught the meaning of them all same. Flemeth was displeased with Solas' welcome, and she spoke to him as someone with whom she shared history. It appeared as if not all of the man's secrets had fully come to light, and Evanthe wondered what possible relationship could exist between an immortal and clanless elf.

"Fa ilaranel hasnar. Chanar ilan fa em Solas," the man answered quietly after a time, sounding guilty and chagrined. Evanthe shook her head, looking pointedly at him in a silent plea to speak in the common tongue. She was able to pick out only a few of the words spoken between the two, none of which helped her in the slightest to decipher the conversation. It was as if she were catching the reflection of syllables, finding them almost familiar enough to understand, but somehow backwards and false.

"Has araneath dal serasath? Ma sera harellen barana?" The elder woman prodded and each word seemed to be a physical blow to the man on the receiving end. Solas flinched under the weight of her inquiry, but nobly stood his ground, and it seemed to amuse the witch all the more.

"That is rich," Flemeth remarked in the common tongue with a barking laugh. She eventually shrugged and waved a hand in the air, as if dismissing the tension that sat in Solas' shoulders. "As you wish, my friend. I am eager to see just how you intend this mockery to play out."

"'Eager to see?'" Harlow spat out, "Does that mean you intend to stay?"

"I was invited, child," Flemeth replied with poisoned sweetness.

"I don't recall sending a summons," Leliana remarked with a cold and steely voice. Flemeth let her amber gaze trail over the bard, eyes making a thorough and calculating assessment. Leliana stood stoic under the scrutiny, her eyes hard and unforgiving. She knew exactly what the old woman saw: the lines etched by pain and loss, the hollows in between ribs that had only just begun to fill out...the scars that curled over one shoulder and trailed up the smooth expanse of her neck. It was a storybook of torture painted across her skin and Leliana knew every syllable yet didn't show even a hint of shame or distress. Evanthe was startled to realize that somewhere in the recent past the Orlesian bard had begun to own her trauma, transforming it into something of survival and metamorphosis as opposed to nightmares and open wounds. It was remarkable, and hopeful, and Evanthe couldn't help but smile at bit upon seeing the woman's strength.

"You have grown," Flemeth remarked, her voice carefully free of inflection. "Hold on to that pain, my dear. You will find it a valuable weapon."

"What do you mean you were invited?" Evanthe quickly interjected upon seeing Leliana's eyes narrow in anger.

"Just that, girl. When you touched the glass you beckoned me out."

"Don't quite recall that..." Evanthe muttered quietly, finding herself thoroughly confused. "Regardless of your welcome, intended or not, Morrigan did bring up an excellent point. Why have you come?"

"She's come for the child," Morrigan answered coldly. "For Keiran and what lays inside him."

"Absolutely not!" Alistair exclaimed before angrily striding to stand mere inches from Flemeth's person. "I will not let you touch him."

"It appears you have not touched him either," Flemeth said with chuckle, easily side stepping Alistair and stalking over to confront Morrigan. "An absent protector is a useless one."

"That was not my fault!" Alistair shouted uselessly to Flemeth's back.

"Morrigan, my daughter," the elder woman remarked after a careful, but quick inspection of the girl. "It seems court life suits you. You always did love the frivolous and pretty things."

"You will not have him," Morrigan hissed out through clenched teeth. "Hunt us all you want, I will lead you on a merry chase and spend my days out running your very long reach but I will die before I watch you take him from me."

"Would you, now?" Flemeth whispered back, the threat unspoken but frightening all the same.

"I am his mother!" Morrigan cried out, voice cracking to show a never before seen vulnerability.

"That you are," Flemeth answered after a time, respect, and, strangely enough, tenderness whispering along the edges of the words. Sighing deeply Flemeth turned her back and focused her gaze upon the now dormant eluvian that sat forgotten across the room.

"Worry not, girl. I haven't come for the boy. Our dealings were concluded months ago," she remarked quietly, and Morrigan gasped in outrage at the revelation.

"When?" she demanded and Flemeth laughed.

"I taught you never to turn your back on an unguarded mirror, my child. Kieran and I have been companions for quite sometime."

"You-"

"The boy is unharmed, as you are well aware. Do not waste my time with outrage," Flemeth snapped.

"Then perhaps you will do use the courtesy of not wasting ours," Cullen growled, speaking up for the first time. "Why are you here?"

"I am here because of that, commander," Flemeth remarked thrusting a finger out and pointing at Evanthe's hand and the amulet that had been forgotten in all the upheaval.

"The amulet?" she asked dumbly and Dorian snorted a bit in derision.

"At least someone appreciates my work," he muttered. "Delightful as it is, I'm afraid the trinket it already spoken for, and I don't fancy you trustworthy enough to craft another."

"I have no need of your power, boy," Flemeth replied, smiling a bit at his bravado. "Unfortunately neither do the rest of you."

"Beg to differ, darling," Dorian remarked affronted. "That power is what is going to save the bloody world."

"Oh how young you all are!" Flemeth cackled before turning to address Solas with wide, bright eyes. "And you, falon? Are you complicit in this naivete as well?"

"The magics are sound," Solas answered frowning. "The amulet will serve its purpose."

"You have been asleep too long, my friend," Flemeth muttered in disgust. "It appears you're slipping."

"Asleep?" Evanthe questioned and Solas quickly looked away, refusing to meet her gaze.

"Do forgive me, but naivete?" Dorian spat out. "The magics that went into crafting that amulet are-"

"Useless," Flemeth finished, her eyes flashing in annoyance. "It is not only time that has been altered, children, but worlds themselves."

"Worlds?" Evanthe echoed, feeling a bit chilled upon hearing the plural attached to the word. She had a feeling that whatever wisdom Flemeth was about to impart would bode ill for all involved. This was all starting to become far too much and Evanthe desperately fought against the rising anxiety that roiled through her stomach. She had experienced so much upheaval in such a short span of time that she wondered in she would make it out the other side whole and the sudden and ominous appearance of a legend out of time did little to alleviate her fears.

"Yes," Flemeth answered. "You were not supposed to exist, Herald. This future was born from your absence and your reappearance has altered the landscape irrevocably."

"I don't understand," she murmured in reply. "How could I not have been meant to exist? I-I was born, I grew, I've lived twenty plus years and here I stand breathing before you."

"You lived twenty plus years in a different world, girl," Flemeth explained striding over to the narrow window along the back wall of the cramped room. As the woman stared out across the fade-ravaged land a quiet overtook her and her face softened into something approaching wistful calm. It smoothed away some of the savagery of her face, transforming her into a beautiful woman in her twilight years, and Evanthe could easily see how a Alamarri chieftain could have throw the world into chaos just to earn her favor.

"Brave new world," Flemeth muttered with a quiet smile, her eyes gazing out over the emerald horizon. "The sky is broken and bleeds upon the land, and all its creatures tremble in the wake of such power. Look at all you have wrought with your pathetic and naive stumbling; look at how you have changed the fabric of worlds and created new ones from your choices. It is glorious."

"I created nothing," Evanthe insisted. "I had no part in the making of this future. The burden of that lies solely with Corypheus."

"Does it?" Flemeth remarked turning once more to face her. "This future exists because you did not, Herald. Never forget that."

"I never will," Evanthe grit out through clenched teeth. She was getting rather tired of being reminded that had she not been absent for so long, through no fault of her own, things may have fallen out rather differently. She had enough guilt heaped on her shoulders by her own hand, she did not need an immortal legend adding to the weight.

"Do you wish to save it?" Flemeth crooned in a mocking voice, "Do you wish to erase the green that pulses at the sky and cleanse the land of corruption?"

"It's why I'm here," Evanthe replied coldly.

"No it's not, but admirable just the same," Flemeth laughed before striding over to snatch the amulet out of her hand. Evanthe gave a token gasp of protest but bit her tongue when the woman gave her a pointed look in warning. Swallowing down her irritation, Evanthe watched as Flemeth held the amulet up to the light and examined it with a critical eye.

"Powerful indeed, if somewhat clumsy in execution," she murmured in what one could almost call appreciation.

"I beg your pardon!" Dorian snorted affronted.

"The trinket may have its uses yet," Flemeth sighed tossing the amulet towards the Tevinter mage who plucked it out of the air with an easy hand and a scowl painted across his face.

"Could we please stop dancing around with vague and ominous sounding speeches and get to the point?" Alistair lamented with impatience.

"Yes," Harlow chimed in, "Why are you here, Flemeth? What did you mean by worlds?"

"And my choices creating new ones?" Evanthe added, her voice quavering a bit at the implications.

"My but you are all so young," Flemeth chuckled, turning her attention to once more regard Solas across the room. "I'm surprise you have not told them, falon, or are you too just as young in this brave new world?"

"Mother," Morrigan warned with a dark voice.

"You too should have told them, daughter," Flemeth hissed "you know better than they the folly they court with useless magics."

"Morrigan keeping secrets, imagine my shock," Alistair muttered as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I have hid nothing!" Morrigan spat in reply. "The elf is right, what she speaks of is idle speculation, nothing more."

"That's enough!" Evanthe cried out, "Explain yourself, or so help me-"

"So much for supplication," Harlow whispered under her breath, a hand rising to cover her grin.

"So help you what, girl?" Flemeth asked with a deadly calm, thrusting a finger out to point at Harlow's chest. "If that one could not end me, what makes you are any more well equipped to do so?"

"I did end you," Harlow growled. "You just didn't have the decency to stay dead."

"Explain. Yourself," Evanthe ordered, refusing to get side tracked.

"Oh but your bravery is precious," Flemeth cackled, seemingly unconcerned with the rising level of animosity in the room. "But it will be as you wish, child, if only because I find you amusing."

Evanthe fought the urge to roll her eyes, the ingrained need to show respect warring with her desire to lash out. Flemeth watched her struggle with amused eyes before turning to address all those assembled.

"As I said, I came because the time line has become disrupted. This world in all its chaotic beauty was created by the Herald's absence. Her reemergence has changed all that. She is an aberration She does not belong."

"How can I not belong?" Evanthe questioned. "True, there is little that can be done to alter the events of my absence, but this moment, everything that comes after, how can it be said that my presence is an aberration? I am here."

"And by the very fact that you draw breath beneath a breach cloaked sky you have created another path. Another future. Another world."

"What you speak of, the magics involved...it is no more than speculation. A theory that has gone unproven for centuries," Solas interjected, pushing himself off the wall and striding over to join the group.

"Speculations and whispers are often based in truth," Flemeth answered with a patronizing sigh. "The magics have existed longer than you or I, my friend, waiting to be called on. The Herald is the catalyst responsible for its awakening."

"What magics?" Dorian asked before Evanthe had the chance, though he asked with far less trepidation than she felt. The mage sounded pleasantly curious, as if attending a lecture on the nature of obscure spell craft. It frustrated her a bit, his nonchalance at all that was happening, but she reasoned it was merely the fault of his upbringing; after all Tevinter was a culture steeped in magic and the notion of magics heretofore unheard of would be quite the titillating bit of knowledge to be privy to.

"There's a legend," Solas explained, never once removing his stare from Flemeth's amber gaze, "Of how the choices we make alter pathways, create new worlds that run concurrently to the one we perceive. It is a form of unsympathetic magic, a power woven into the very fabric of the world. It is a fable, traded between mages over campfires and ale. Never in all my travels have I encountered such magics."

"You haven't traveled far enough," Flemeth whispered with a cold and calculating grin.

"If what you say is true," Leliana remarked, her brow furrowed in thought, "what you are suggesting-"

"What is she suggesting?" Harlow interrupted. "The whole thing sounded like a bunch of magic-babble to me."

"Perhaps I am wrong," Zevran offered slowly and carefully, "but I believe the strega immortale is stating that our delectable Herald has created a new world simply by blessing us with her presence, yes?"

"Well done, child," Flemeth remarked, nodding her head slightly in acknowledgment "How refreshing to be surprised."

"I...created...a...no. Absolutely not. I refuse to believe it, it's just too preposterous," Evanthe insisted, shaking her head furiously in adamant disbelief. What Flemeth was suggesting was so far fetched she would have been hard pressed to believe it under normal circumstances, but when added to the already unbelievable twists and turns her life had taken in just a few short months, Evanthe felt it all become too much. She wasn't sure she could handle one more revelation, one more bit of devastation that somehow bound her up in pain and death. And so she refused to believe, if only to preserve her sanity.

"How is any of this possible?" Leliana asked, voice gone soft with horrified wonder.

"This future, the world we all inhabit was predicated upon Evanthe's absence," Solas explained. "She was not supposed to be here. Her part was ended upon entering Redcliffe."

"And her reemergence, what? Created a new world?" Alistair asked, clearly lost but struggling to keep up.

"For lack of a better word, yes. Her return split the future in two...one in which she remained lost to us...and the other we currently find ourselves ensconced in," Solas answered, closing his eyes as if the whole notion was causing him pain.

"But why does it matter?" Harlow asked. "Who cares if this is world is different than the other? Won't it all become wildly fucking unimportant once they use the amulet?"

"Because the old bat is right," Dorian lamented on a weary groan, "if what she says is true the amulet is useless."

"No it's not!" Evanthe practically screamed, still unwilling to participate in the farce her life had become. "It will work!"

"Oh it will work, darling," Dorian replied, "It'll send us back to Redcliffe and this little holiday into hell will have been nothing but a bad dream...but only in this world. The other- the one we left behind, that will continue on, resulting in a future just as horrific as this one."

"So then there's no hope," Harlow lamented, "Corypheus wins either way. Even if we strike him down, he gets a chance to play at god in another world."

"Not necessarily," Leliana muttered, glancing sidelong at Flemeth. "You said the amulet may still have a use. What did you mean?"

"Ah, but that would be telling," Flemeth remarked, tsking at the presumption of the bard.

"Then you better get to telling," Harlow growled, her fingers clenching and unclenching in anger.

"The worlds run concurrently!" Elissa cried out, causing everyone nearby to jump a bit at the sudden outburst. The Queen had been unusually quiet during the whole confusing exchange, to the point that Evanthe had clean forgotten the woman was in attendance. It appeared she was not the only one to have forgotten the woman and Elissa sighed in annoyance when her explanation was meant with startled and blinking stares.

"Concurrently," she said again, over enunciating the word petulantly. "That's what you said, isn't it?"

"Yes..." Solas answered hesitantly

"Then that's it, then," she answered happily. "If they run concurrently then however much time has passed since Evanthe's arrival is how much time has passed in the other world since her departure That's the amulet's import."

"Of course! The amulet can be used as anchor for time, effectively allowing us to pick and choose the date and hour we wish to travel to," Dorian declared rushing over to the Queen and grasping her hands tightly in his. The pair smiled widely at each other, each pleased beyond measure to have sorted out this particular riddle. Dorian leaned in, planting a swift and smacking kiss upon Elissa's cheek, earning him a startled laugh in response.

"You are delightful, your majesty," Dorian declared with a flourish.

"She is," Alistair agreed, gently maneuvering his wife away from the man, "but I fail to see how any of this concurrent time business makes any difference. According to the scary witch we're dealing with two separate worlds, it's not as if we could just travel a few miles to the east and cross into the other one."

"Not quite so long a journey I assure you," Flemeth remarked, earning her the silence of every other person in the room. Judging by the smug, self-satisfied expression on the woman's face it appeared the witch was immensely enjoying the position she had put herself in. Evanthe could tell that Flemeth enjoyed manipulating situations to her purpose, be it amusement or ambition. The woman chose her words carefully, trickling out bits of information as she saw fit and in the most tantalizing ways possible. It was infuriating but brilliant, and when coupled with the ancient power that seemed to pulse from the woman like a heart beat it made her all the more intimidating.

"Oh, just tell them, Mother," Morrigan sighed after a moment, "This penchant for subterfuge is arduous. Do you never tire of it?"

"Do you?" Alistair remarked with a raised eyebrow.

"Tell us what?" Evanthe asked quietly, "How it's possible to travel between two opposing worlds? Or perhaps why now, after all that has happened—after thousands of innocents have died at the hands of a monster, you choose now to appear and offer cryptic advice."

"There was no need for this magic until you arrived, child. Petulance is most unbecoming in a leader," Flemeth remarked coolly.

"Not this magic, no," Evanthe replied, her voice rising a bit with the swell of overwhelming emotions crashing into her, "but if you have knowledge of such power then clearly you are trading in spellcraft beyond what us mere mortals are capable of. You're the great and terrible Flemeth are you not? Asha'Belannar. Witch of the Wilds. Your legend is steeped in the darkest of magics and kings tremble at the very mention of your name, and yet here you are, absent, just like me."

"Do not presume to know my purpose," Flemeth growled in warning, her eyes darkening. Evanthe couldn't help but notice that there was something unmistakeably reptilian about those amber orbs, and she swore she faintly hear the sound of great wings beating on the air, but she soldiered on, too upset for rationality.

"Perhaps you aren't so terrible as we all thought," she accused, "perhaps you aren't all powerful in the slightest. Perhaps you are nothing more than an old woman playing at power and hiding behind myths that paint you to be more than you are."

"I am something you have no comprehension of, girl."

"Then do something!" Evanthe demanded, taking an angry step towards the woman. "Anything! Use all that is beyond my understanding to stop this madness in its tracks. The land is dying, people are dying, and you hide in ancient mirrors forming riddles to toy with those who are trying to heal what has been lost. I have no comprehension of what you are? Hardly...you're a coward."

The word had barely left her mouth before Evanthe felt the air get sucked from her lungs in a painful, scraping pull and she was hoisted upwards by tendrils of unseen power. Gasping in desperation her legs flailed uselessly in the air and she clawed at her throat, stars winking before her eyes. Cries of outrage and alarm echoed around her, but they felt far off, echoing in her skull as the lack of air began to affect her hearing. Just as the edges of her vision began to turn to a hazy black an ancient phrase was called out in Tevine and Evanthe suddenly found herself dealing with an entirely new sort of pain.

The power that held her captive vanished whilst another reached deep inside her and smothered every bit of magic that she claimed. She cried out in agony as she fell to the floor, back arching at the dueling sensations of suddenly being able to breathe and being cut off from her power. Curling into a ball she sucked in ragged gasps of air and struggled to breathe around the pain of being magicless. After a moment the sensation eased and she cautiously raised her head, wincing a bit as she did so. Glancing around she was shocked to see Dorian, Solas, and Morrigan in a similar state of discomfort. Even Flemeth looked unsettled, though she had managed to keep her footing. Frowning she glanced up to find Cullen standing protectively before her, a hard, deadly look etched into his face.

"If you ever seek to harm her again, I will happily bring an end to your very long existence," Cullen threatened quietly.

"You can try," Flemeth wheezed. Cullen ignored the threat and turned to help Evanthe to her feet. She took his hand gratefully and was a tiny bit ashamed to note that she swayed upon standing.

"Are you alright?" He asked quietly, gently touching her cheek and peering down at her with concerned eyes.

"What happened?" she croaked out, not feeling adequately able to answer his question.

"The commander cleansed the area," Solas answered his voice reedy and thin as he pulled himself to standing. "A bit of templar trickery made to destroy access to all magic for a time."

"I'm sorry," Cullen murmured. "I knew you'd be effected but I saw no other alternative." Evanthe merely nodded, unable to forgive or condemn. She felt strange, as if her tissues had been stretched and rearranged. Cautiously she reached for her magic and felt relief sweep through her when she felt a spark of power answer her inquiry.

"Perhaps we could return to subject at hand," Leliana offered slowly, as if afraid that any words spoken would ignite more spellwork.

"You wish to know how to cross worlds, to see if you can save both this future and the past from Corypheus' hands," Flemeth responded, sounding for all the world as if nothing out of place had happened. She was utterly calm, seemingly unbothered by the altercation that had taken place only moments before. It only angered Evanthe all the more.

"If possible, yes," the bard confirmed.

"There is a way, but first you must do something for me," Flemeth remarked and Evanthe surged forward in anger at the old woman's presumption. She was instantly restrained by Cullen who wrapped her tightly in his arms, both comforting and protecting her from her own foolishness.

"Ah, the required catch, as it were," Zevran lamented on a sigh. "We scratch your back, you scratch ours, that is the way of it, yes?"

"You will find that Mother never offers her assistance without first securing a debt of those in need," Morrigan replied.

"So that's where you get it from," Harlow countered sweetly.

"'Tis only logical," Morrigan replied with just as much false nicety "Not everyone is foolish enough to play hero for the public good."

"What favor could you possibly ask of us?" Leliana quickly interjected, seeking to remain on the subject at hand.

"More importantly what makes you think we'd ever agree to it?" Alistair added.

"If you wish to best Corypheus and return both you world and the one that came before to peace you will happily comply, young king," Flemeth crooned. "As for the what, some secrets are better kept until all parties are too far in to flee."

"No," Elissa quickly replied. "That is not how this works."

"It's the only way it works, girl," Flemeth laughed. "But I'll be generous. I'll give you a full days turn to argue and bicker until you concede"

"You're quite confidant for one who has no friends in this room," Dorian muttered, folding his arms across his chest.

"Enemies are far better friends, dear boy...they're always far more desperate," Flemeth whispered with a grin before casually sweeping out of the room. Zevran hurried after her hovering in the doorway as he tracked her movements with shrewd eyes.

"She has gone to the northern ramparts. Perhaps to seek lodging?" he mused.

"Yes, by all means make your self at home you spooky hag," Alistair spat sardonically.

"What do we do now?" Harlow asked. "I mean, I don't really see a choice but to take her up on her offer."

"Absolutely not," Elissa insisted with a shake of her head, "you do not align yourself with someone such as her without a great deal of caution. Walking blind into what ever misdeeds she intends is most certainty the opposite of caution."

"But without her we're left fumbling in the dark," Dorian argued. "Debate tactics all you want but if you haven't noticed Corypheus isn't exactly bothered by the word Inquisition anymore."

"Dorian's right. Flemeth may possess the only key to our victory. I do relish the idea, but war is rarely about easy choices and safe alliances," Leliana remarked before turning her gaze to Evanthe. "What do you think, Herald?"

Evanthe froze upon hearing the question and felt panic rise up inside her when everyone in the room turned to regard her and wait patiently for her answer. She had no earthly idea of how to respond to such a thing. So much had occurred in the space of a few short minutes that she was still struggling to come to terms with it all, and the anger that Flemeth had incurred still festered, urging her to be angry and petulant. When added to all that had happened—stretching as far back as the conclave—it seemed as if she might break from the weight of it all. Bad enough she was responsible for one world's safety, now that burden had been compounded, and Evanthe wasn't sure she was up to the task.

"I...I..." she stammered out on a shaky voice, her hands trembling at the unfairness of it all.

"Thee?" Cullen asked, his voice concerned.

"I don't know," she managed before setting her heels and sprinting out of the room. Gasps of surprise chased her as she made her exit, and she could hear Cullen calling for in desperation, but she paid it no mind. All that mattered to her at that moment was the slap of her feet on the stones as she sought to outrun a destiny that had begun to feel more and more like a prison sentence with every moment that passed.