Domus Reditio

No...this can't be. I must be in the Fade. Yes, this must be some demon, trying to catch me unawares.

Celestine did not hear any of the words of Greagoir's explanation after he had revealed that the Tower had fallen. Fallen to demons and abominations. The evidence to support his claim was all around them. A mere handful of Templars were in the room, the entrance-hall to the tower. One corner seemed to have been designated as a space for the wounded. There were several armoured and robed figures lying there, alternating between groaning, whimpering and sleeping fitfully. One injured man had woken up screaming as the group passed by, the sound chilling the returning mage to the core. Some even looked to have stopped breathing entirely, with the designated surgeon - who may have simply been a Templar that had docked his armour - occasionally indicating that a body be removed. Her attention snapped back to present reality as soon as she heard the words 'Rite of Annulment.'

"What? No!"

Greagoir's eyes grew wide before his face set into a scowl. "Listen here Amell: I've been a Templar for longer than you've been alive. I know when a situation is irredeemable. I've lost three quarters of my men to whatever has taken over the Tower and I refuse to risk any more in some vainglorious idea that there may be something we can do against that many abominations."

He leaned back folding his arms, both face and tone softening, "Fighting even one abomination is a challenge, but a whole Circle's worth? I won't throw away lives like that. I'm truly sorry, but once we receive reinforcements and the Rite from Denerim, the Annulment will take place."

Celestine wrung her hands, the gauntlet-like half-gloves unfamiliar and damp with sweat. She paced once before turning to address the Knight-Commander again. "What if we clear the Tower? What if we get rid of all the abominations?"

The older man scoffed visibly. "Impossible. I won't stop you, but what chance do you few have where a hundred of my men failed?"

"So, you will withold the Rite, if we're successful?"

This elicited a thoughtful look from Greagoir, who paused for a moment before answering. "...Bring me the First Enchanter. Bring me Irving. I will take his word as assurance that the Tower has been cleansed."

Celestine nodded, before motioning for her companions to follow. She could not place the feeling in her breast - whether it was fear, anticipation, hope, anxiety or hopelessness - but she sure as the Void wished it would go away as she watched her hand shake just a little bit before gripping her staff while two Templars removed the bar and opened the door for them.

As the entrance-hall doors swung open she absently wondered whether anyone in her group would be able to teach her how to someday use her staff as Hawke did hers. She was pulled out of the stray thought when she found herself gently gripped by the elbow and turned to find Greagoir's eyes, steely. Don't lose yourself. The words echoed through her mind, resounding along with her life until they reached that memory, the memory bathed in flame.

~

He had to fight the feeling of all of it being the strangest dream sequence. They had been there mere months before...for it to have changed that drastically in such short a time…. His heart went out to Celestine.

He knew that Redcliffe should have affected him more than it actually had. He was wondering if that made him a bad person, for not feeling like the events there actually ever moved him. But the Tower was different. He did not look at anything as himself. He looked at it through the lens of "this was hers."

The Knight-Commander had given them an unprecedented opportunity. Templars were not known to give way on matters that regarded the Fade-corrupted. It made him wonder if there was perhaps more to the relationship between Celestine and Greagoir, or whether it was simply respect for the Grey Wardens as a whole.

When they first went through the doorway defended by the Templars, they were greeted by an empty corridor, no evidence of whatever it was that the Templars on the other side feared. But that soon changed.

Celestine led the way, years of living in the Circle clearly represented in how familiarly she worked through rooms. That was where they found the first traces of the hardships the Tower was undergoing. The apprentice dormitories were the first rooms that branched out from the circular corridor leading from the entrance hall. It looked like a storm had blown through the rooms, and considering the Circle's inhabitants, that may well have been what happened.

The neat rows of bunks had been knocked awry, several of the beds toppled over completely. The same went for the closets. Bed clothes and personal items seemed to have been strewn across the room at random, but the most unnerving thing was that despite all the chaos, the rooms were all entirely devoid of anything but the inanimate.

There was a haunted look about Celestine's eyes and he could not help but want to drive it away. His sword arm was restless and his shield was begging to smash into something. It was the strangest thing. A sensation unfamiliar to him. He had never been one for bloodshed, yet he found his body begin to yearn for it.

When they opened the doorway at the end of the circular corridor and he sensed the tingle of his hairs standing on end, he was almost grateful. Shades similar in appearance to Torpor swarmed through the room before them. At their head, a great flaming manifestation of Rage bellowed fire and fury at something obscured by the masses of Fade denzines.

Alistair felt the energy he had kept leashed break free, heard the blood rushing through his ears as his vision sharpened. He launched himself forward with a wordless cry on his lips.

His sword bit into the viscous matter that demons drew together to form their corporeal bodies. The blade's flow was hardly impaired by the substance, fueled by an energy the former Templar recruit was unfamiliar with.

He had lost track of Leliana; the bard had faded into the background as they worked through the rooms. His attention had been wholly focused on Celestine, and while he saw the occasional feathered shaft grow out of the most threatening of demons he still had no idea of where she was.

The furious battle-rage had, perhaps ironically, somehow landed him right in front of the Rage demon and the mass of lava reverberated with a bellow before swinging an appendage half his own size at him.

He shifted his feet as best as he was able before bringing his shield to bear.

There was a sharp crack and instead of a mass of heat colliding with him, as he had expected, a great frozen claw snapped at the elbow and shattered on the floor at his feet, causing him to blink several times, surprised.

Celestine did not hesitate, slamming her staff into the cobbled ground as she had in Redcliffe, and grunted with satisfaction as the cobbles in the path before her erupted underneath the demon, shattering the rest of its mass.

But if it had not been her, who had frozen the demon? His question was answered as soon as he looked from Celestine back to where the demon had stood. There was an elderly woman - a mage - standing, staff raised at them, in front of an entire horde of children. Her expression was calm, intensely focused.

"You…." Her demeanour changed abruptly as her eyes reached Celestine, face hardening. "Grey Warden or no, I will strike you down."

Alistair looked over to Celestine, hoping she would give an indication of what to do next. She was leaning on her staff, seemingly unconcerned by the weapon leveled against her, a hesitant smile creeping over her features. "Wynne, is that you? Maker, it's good to find someone in here."

Wynne looked away for a moment, then back at them, her expression softer, yet no less guarded. "You're the Amell child, right? Were you not at Ostagar? With the other Wardens? How can you be here?"

The need to say something quickly overpowered any restraint he may have tried to hastily muster. "She is, we were, yes, and magic! Or at least that's the only way Morrigan's mother would have been able to get us off that tower." He was unsure of whether he should think of the old woman as Flemeth or not. She had not shown any inclinations that the legends had stated she was prone to be, but if Morrigan had fallen anywhere close to the tree then the woman must have been evil, considering that Morrigan was the spawn of evil. Or perhaps that had been her father. He wondered if the witch had anything to say on the topic. Probably something heartless.

Wynne levelled a gaze at him that immediately made him want to apologise. He just barely managed to bite that back.

"Yes, as Alistair so eloquently put it," Celestine affirmed, chuckling slightly, something that made him oddly happy, but then her face turned somber. "Wynne, Greagoir has sent for the Rite of Annulment."

The older woman's defensive stance relaxed somewhat. "I...see." She sighed. "He has given us up for lost then. An entire Circle culled in one fell stroke."

"That need not be so," Celestine ventured. "My companions and I have been given leave to try and rescue Irving. The Knight-Commander will listen to him on what needs to be done with the Circle."

Wynne nodded, looking thoughtful. "Yes, Greagoir trusts Irving." Looking up sharply, the older woman addressed Celestine once more. "Then that is what we shall do: find Irving and rescue any others we may encounter along the way." She turned around, addressing the motley group assembled behind her like so many children trying to hide in a mother's skirts. "Petra, look after the children; get some of the other older apprentices to help you. I'll raise the barrier once more when we're on the other side."

The cautious-looking redhead Wynne had addressed nodded quickly and immediately began herding the ones assembled around her, coaxing them with soft murmurs and gentle touches.

The older mage turned back to the trio to be addressed by Celestine. "Senior Enchanter, do you believe yourself up for this? I would not have you throw your life away."

Wynne smiled, almost indulgently, "There is some life in these old bones yet and there was reason behind the decision to send me to Ostagar along with the other six. I would like to join you, in the fight for my home."

"Very well, we are grateful for any assistance."