Chapter 13 - "Good and bad"

The organised ascent to the third floor was leisurely, taking a dozen minutes at most. Valinci tried again to ask what was meant by the idea of fire. But the sorceress twice parried the man's curiosity with the trivial argument that the explanation would come before the action, and in the meantime he should concentrate on what was in front of him. It was obvious that she was quite pleased with the mage's reaction and had deliberately taken the bait. The others in the group kept their questions and thoughts to themselves, showing little outward reaction other than initial surprise. Morrigan, however, noticed that Tomara, unlike the others, cast long, pensive glances at her.

Eventually, the stairs ended, and the party stumbled upon none of the threats their imaginations had conjured up. The hall of statues seemed empty and safe, even though the surrounding darkness obscured the outlines of the sculptures as well as the walls and ceiling at an indeterminate distance. It was as if the seven mages had dispelled the minutiae responsible for the heavy emotions and omnipresent sense of threat.

Morrigan entered the corridor where the battle with the Wrath Demon had taken place with some excitement. It was reflected in her narrowed eyes and clenched jaw. However, the traces of flame on the walls, floor and numerous paintings were still there, causing her to breathe a small sigh of relief. Valinci touched the girl's shoulder, a silent question in his eyes. When she answered, Morrigan grimaced.

— The ambush was expected, as it had been on the way down.

It was hard to tell if the mage believed the answer he gave. At least the man nodded and gestured for them to continue. Peering through the arch of the passage into the central hall, Morrigan's voice was low.

— There's been no change.

Every detail was still in its place, as if it hadn't been there for more than a dozen hours. Nodding confidently, the sorceress briefly explained that she moved quietly outside the ring of central columns. But given the size of the group, it was better to keep their distance for now.

The two men and Lida began to prepare the spells so that the result of the incantation of formulas of varying complexity would come at once. After a few exhalations, Tomara and Darin joined in, also acting in unison.

As if sensing something nearby, the shadows in the centre began to move towards the edge where the mages were positioned. Morrigan clenched her fists, fearing they would break free and attack the group. If they did, the plan would be foiled and everyone would face a painful death. But she didn't take a step back, standing firmly in place and looking ahead. At that moment, the sorceress gambled on the dominant influence of the puppeteer at the centre, who was obviously in the vice of idleness or laziness.

The magic collapsed inside the ring in perfect sequence, once again demonstrating the coherence and expertise of those present. At the same time as the movements of the agitated translucent figures became slower and more disorderly, if such a thing were possible, there was a deafening clap. It was a rapid, jerky expansion of air from the superheated centre of the two fiery spheres, which in a heartbeat had expanded to the size of the central ring of columns, filling the inner volume between them with deadly heat. With a click, every combustible material ignited. There was no one in the group who did not cover their faces to protect themselves from the waves of heat that caused dizziness even in such a solid volume. From the corridor, a stream of cool air rushed in to replace the overheated air that had risen to the ceiling. The flames gorged themselves, filling the space between the columns with acrid smoke and poison.

Whatever disadvantages the mages felt, the enemy suffered far more. Framed by the tongues of fire, the ghostly figures darting around the central pedestal with no clear purpose were clearly distinguishable. The possessed man practically ignored the fire that was burning his flesh and devouring the remains of the mage's clothes, desperately trying to overcome his own nature and his limiting magic to leave the roost and get to the source of the irritation. As his eyes darted between the various fragments of what was happening, the image could not help but be impressive, especially with the almost complete absence of sound. Only the crackling of flames and the spasmodic breathing of the mages themselves could be heard in the silence.

As the reluctant possessed finally collapsed awkwardly to the floor, Anna's nerves were frayed. The Mind Blast hit the creature again, causing it to twitch randomly. No one took their eyes off the artificial fire, ignoring the watery eyes. Soon there was nothing left to fuel the fire within the ring of columns. Within a minute or two, the flames died down as never before, leaving soot stains on the stones and new cracks in the surfaces due to the temperature differences, and plunging the room into the familiar darkness. The torches, powered by the will of the possessed, were now burning to embers. The last thing to be seen was the charred remains of the possessed man lying not far from the pedestal, and the absence of any trace of the translucent figures. Someone breathed a sigh of relief, one of the wizards coughed, and everyone continued to stare into the darkness, maintaining their concentration. Valinci raised his hand above his head, forming a bowl from his fingers, and after a short spell of «Lightbringer», a light appeared in it. The still spark emitted a cold, steady glow, creating a circle of light a dozen paces in each direction. With a few hasty steps, the man picked his vanquished opponent out of the darkness again, and as soon as he appeared in the illuminated circle, he moved. The movement of the hands could not be mistaken for a trick of the imagination, and this caused an immediate reaction. The three magic arrows, which flashed for a moment, left deep potholes in the burnt piece of flesh with a strange crunching sound, spraying black gore all around. The speed of the reaction surprised even Morrigan. She only had time to get close while some of the group immediately began preparing the formulas best suited for an immediate response to the threat. And there were no terrified screams. Except for Anna noisily taking in air. But it was Tomara who was the quickest. It was the spell of the woman with the bandaged head that struck the possessed body first. There was a look of surprising concentration on her face, despite her head injury. Morrigan couldn't help but notice how striking such deep determination was in contrast to her behaviour when they first met.

A minute or three after the fatal blow, the mangled body sprawled on the floor showed no sign of functioning. Despite this, Morrigan approached Valinci and pointed to the man's dagger, asking for permission to use the weapon. Receiving the blade from the mage's hands, the sorceress was the first to enter the centre circle, pausing only once to make sure there was no threat before heading straight for the corpse. Quickly, without a shadow of a doubt or any sign of squeamishness, she slit his badly altered and swollen throat. With a measured step back, the sorceress held the blade in front of her and wiped her hand on her clothes. Valinsi gave the girl a surprised look with a modicum of respect and nodded in satisfaction.

And from behind him came Darin's grim and grizzled voice.

— Not that the obstacle was insurmountable. Or deadly.

Lida hummed, parrying.

— It was worth the danger, may I brag? It seemed that with the years came wisdom, not insecurity.

The wiry mage with many winters under his belt grimaced before answering.

— The folly of youth... Whatever it may seem, Tomara and I did the main work. And the so-called «guide», who had been ranting about the threat, stood aside. As a spectator. I will say this. Everyone spent mana. But only the two of us with the most threatening spells spent more mana than the others. And to me, the enemy didn't seem to need that much mana. I hope you don't find that strange. M?

Tomara nodded slowly, seemingly unsure, but confirming her opinion. Valinsi returned at a slow pace, looking carefully at the faces illuminated by the created light and voicing his own opinion.

— The fight was easy for one reason. We knew what to expect. What the Morrigan said was true to the last drop. Your shortsightedness is astonishing. All right, old stubborn, but you, Tomara.

While Valinci shook his head in despair, Lida sided with the squad leader, a certain inner resistance in her voice.

— I admit that the Morrigan's plan is not without ingenuity and practicality. That I would make such a claim speaks volumes. Darin, talk all you want about your own undeniable usefulness. The flames decided the fate of those strange figures surrounding the possessed man. It would be foolish to ignore such a thing. And if they had attacked together, I don't know what the outcome would have been. But it wasn't the fire alone that won the day. The heat had made the fiend unable to breathe, and other spells had prevented him from escaping the death trap.

After looking around the group, some reluctantly agreeing, some feigning disagreement, some frowning, Valinci made up his mind.

— Move on. Stay alert and beware of strong emotions influencing your thoughts. No matter how natural they may seem.

The Morrigan tilted her head thoughtfully, scanning the faces with an unfocused gaze. She could not tell from the girl's expression whether she agreed with the last sentence or doubted the ability of the mages and sorceresses around her to follow it. Meanwhile, the outline of upward stairs was in front of her.

* * *

Returning to the fourth floor, the group was once again shown the truth of the «guide's» words. Darkness filled the hall, but somehow the eyes retained the ability to see. Not far away. Valinci's light had faded halfway up the stairs, and Morrigan had warned the group against attempting to summon it again, pointing out that the Lyrium had not yet been reached. So the strange behaviour of the darkness was on full display for all to see.

The girl looked around suspiciously, expecting surprises, and pointed to the dead man lying nearby. In the sorceress' eyes, he was a symbol of constancy and unchangeability, not having changed or moved in any way since the last time they had met.

— Niall.

His attention was immediately drawn to the object in question. The Morrigan stepped back, but at the same time she gave the group a furtive glance. They all seemed to her like a kaleidoscope of masks, each hiding something unknown and therefore extremely dangerous. She sometimes had to sober herself to keep this image from overwhelming her unbiased perception of events. Most of the faces were of grim surprise and sadness, with a touch of regret. The emotions seemed natural... On the other hand, Morrigan's thoughts inevitably returned to how outward appearances often had little to do with the motives and experiences hidden within. Tomara crouched by the body and glanced over her shoulder at the «guide». The tape contained no subtext, no expressed interest. But the words that followed drew the sorceress closer and changed her first impression.

— When our friend was dying, were you there for him?

The question seemed innocent, but Morrigan sensed the treachery in it, like the stillness of dangerous waters where something lurks, waiting for prey. Valinci looked glumly at the body of his fallen comrade, who had apparently managed to betray his trust and leave the man with a troubled conscience at the same time. The mage showed no reaction to the question. Neither did the others, who chose to turn away or remain mere spectators. Morrigan shrugged, letting a little irritation escape before formulating an answer.

— Yes. How else could have told you of his death? The darkness and what lurks around it is fickle. It's easy to fall under its spell. This is exactly where the battle took place, but I still doubt what I saw.

Tomara sighed slowly, nodded and continued the conversation, keeping her intonation neutral.

— So it is not even your own word that Niall did not die by your hand?

Out of the corner of her eye, Morrigan noticed the darkening of the faces of every man in the group except Valinci. He was still lost in his own thoughts. She could also see Lydia tense. Realising that she could not rely on the leader's intervention, she added metal to her voice and cut off.

— Clever. What's the point? These hints you leave unanswered are only good for the enemy. Before starting the climb, the right conclusions are made. At this point, new doubts do not lead to truth, but to death. It seems that your concern for your companions is not your first priority. Do we continue? Or are we wasting time?

Finishing her sentence, the sorceress turned to Valinci, who, emerging from the grip of his personal ghosts, nodded.

— Conversation aside, lead the way.

Tomara's gaze tightened, sliding over the faces of the rest of the group as if looking for support, then back to the dead man. Morrigan thought her lips twitched into a grim grin at the last moment. But remembering personal experience and the danger of the swamp called paranoia, the sorceress faltered. Biting her bloody lower lip, the girl cleared her mind of unnecessary matters and moved with a firm step towards the corridor, watching only for the dangers that lay ahead.

The only change since her last visit was the disappearance of the black veil that blocked the entrance to the armoury. This fact brought to the surface Morrigan's memories of her recent stay in Hunger's lair. A glance into the room, the door to which, judging by the twisted hinges, had been torn open as if by a battering ram, revealed the outlines of three bodies. Like the others, they had lost most of the flesh from their bones. It was hard to make out the details of the dead men's robes without going inside, but they looked more like churchmen than mages.

In the last room, as everywhere else here, there was an oppressive silence and gloom. Nothing new, no movement. And this was no less unnerving than the opposite, for everyone was expecting the illusion of safety to be cruelly deceived. So when the blackness suddenly took on the outline of a human figure, slightly darker than the general background, it was actually a relief for many in the group. The creature emerged from the centre of the hall without making a sound. As they looked closer, the familiar feeling of impending menace returned, spiced with a growing sense of impropriety. No one could readily identify the figure of the stranger as an alien. In fact, his shoulders sloped down at an angle impossible for a human, as if the figure had no shoulder blades at all, and perhaps no collarbones at all. As a result, the arms were well below the waist. Valinci, Lida and Morrigan were the first to react this time. Each had activated a combat spell. Two bright streams of magic arrows pierced the enemy, illuminating the void for a moment before disappearing into the depths of the hall, swallowed up by the darkness. Morrigan's spell had no such obvious effect, remaining invisible to the eye in such darkness. But the ribbon that was thrown forward rolled to the side, connecting with the sorceress in a seemingly empty space. But it hit the real target, bringing a second silhouette to life in the darkness for a moment.

— There!

A shout, a raised hand and a chain of spells from the rest of the group simultaneously immobilised and crumpled the true body of the enemy.

As soon as the corpse touched the ground, Morrigan and Lida ran towards it in unison. The corpse, its skin darkened to match its surroundings, was decomposing rapidly, odourless and noiseless. But the surviving robes pointed to a mage. Something had changed the shape of this one's skull, shoulder girdle and arms into something predatory, clawed and dangerous. As she gazed at the remains, Morrigan asked her unexpected companion, not even expecting an answer.

— Why didn't that thing attack at once?

Lida rubbed her forehead between her eyes before answering.

— You're right. It has all the cards in its favour. He could've come into our ranks without risk and turned into a bloody whirlwind long before we realised what was at stake. Or maybe we wouldn't have noticed at all.

— It's as if something in us made him hesitate. When a predator in pursuit of wounded prey encounters an equal or superior opponent. And hunger seems to push forward. But fear and the pathetic rudiments of reason scream «stop» or «run».

Lida glanced suspiciously at the girl hunched over the body, grimaced and looked back reluctantly. Where the others huddled in vague shapes, organised in preparation for an attack from either side, the two sorceresses were busy with things only they could understand. Morrigan straightened and asked her partner.

— You followed me here because you don't trust me? It wasn't out of curiosity.

The woman replied without even bothering to turn around.

— That's right.

— And what are your expectations?

— The same as before. Nothing good... That's how Niall died? When neither you nor he knew for sure what or who was really in front of you.

Morrigan looked at Lida's slim but not feminine form from top to toe before answering. The representative of the Circle was obviously thinking about things that troubled the sorceress from the far south. But she couldn't decide if that was a good sign or not. Probably not, for the clearer sense of the shakiness of her surroundings gave nothing but vulnerability.

— Yes. It's eerie how imperceptible it is when the familiar is replaced by a stranger. Which is why there's no point in thinking about it. A stab in the back doesn't make it any less unexpected.

— Interesting thought... Am I right in thinking that there is a strong suspicion?

— Hmm. Your choice of interlocutor for such a conversation speaks for itself. You think it is safer to share your doubts with me than to show weakness to those who have known you for a long time. It seems that your unity has a weak foundation, rotten with intrigues and mutual recriminations. One wonders if this is why Uldred has become a radical.

Morrigan took a slow step towards the woman, deliberately avoiding harshness and a nervous reaction in the tense atmosphere. She placed a hand on Lydia's shoulder, forcing the woman to turn around. Yellow eyes opposite the brown. And then the younger sorceress continued.

— If you're serious, everyone here is like a puppet. And you seem to realise that easily. The things that bind you together, like the past, are blurred and confused. Perhaps the only thing you can be sure of in the Tower is your own trust. And that's only for so long. The monsters that rush in to gnaw at your throat are simple and understandable. The dangerous ones are the ones that look the other way and wait in sheep's clothing. Don't misunderstand me. My words will certainly feed your paranoia and contradict what I said earlier. But the aim is not to drive a wedge by feeding your growing suspicions. In trying to guess where the enemy is, it's easy to end up doing their bidding. Be prepared for the monster that lurks behind every mask. I may not know the subtle taste of betrayal so well. It's a sensitivity that grows with age. But I can easily imagine the enemy from within eating away at your unity.

The woman narrowed her eyes and said with a strut.

— You're saying that the enemy is cloaked in the illusion of normality. While the body has long since been distorted by possession?

Morrigan bit the inside of her cheek, considering how best to phrase her answer, and said with slight uncertainty.

— More likely yes than no. It's a guess without hard evidence. And what the enemy is doing is little more than an illusion or an appearance.

Lida nodded and immediately opened her eyes, clearly experiencing a revelation. The next words came out of the woman in a rapid stream.

— This is it. Flame and fire... Demons crumple and crumple reality near the veil, breaking it like soft clay at their own whim. Because what you're talking about, it's as if the possessed fit themselves into a certain image, like clothes. And essentially the same trick is being done with the Tower. But, like clothes, the image created is fundamentally unchanging....

— The torch burns, giving light and warmth, but it will never burn out.

— Yes... And darkness is wonderful at hiding imperfections and mistakes. That's why it's always night inside. And that's where the idea for your plan came from. But, you know, the same trick could help to remove suspicion from each other.

The dark-haired girl smiled in surprise before she removed her hand from her interlocutor's shoulder and replied.

— That's an excellent deduction. I'm surprised. Of course, fire has other powers. However...

Lida raised her hand sharply, interrupting the beginning of the question.

— Fire is a natural phenomenon, self-sustaining, predictable, but chaotic in nature. Most importantly, true flames change the nature of things both externally and internally. If only...

— No. The idea may be good. But this kind of provocation is more likely to cause trouble than the malicious intent of a hidden enemy. At this point, it's better to wait for a stab in the back.

— But...

Morrigan frowned and shook her head negatively. She glanced at the spot where the body of another monster had lain a minute or two ago, now covered only by dirty, torn clothes.

— There is another way. The Lyrium Vault is literally ten paces away. A small, dark room with a door that is not easily opened or closed. If someone closes it. Almost all the rats would be in a bundle. Animal terror in total darkness. Vulnerability. Chance. A flawed method and an unhappy experience. But better than your mad idea to set your mates on fire and turn them all into enemies. A predator in the dark, when pushed, can't hold back the essence. If he's lucky. If not, we're dealing with something more serious than ourselves. But this plan assumes, on the one hand, that you trust me blindly. On the other hand. That this conversation isn't a game of cat and mouse.

Lida nodded, the force reflected in her face, clenched her jaw and threw back curtly.

— Let's see...

Morrigan just shrugged, showing her lack of interest in either woman's decision. And then they both returned to the group without a word, only to immediately become the target of the majority's irritation at the long and seemingly pointless wait. Only Valinci remained silent, watching each one individually from the sidelines, setting an example of restraint and indifference. After a few more minutes of Lida's storytelling, during which she avoided mentioning any new findings, the squad leader gave the order to move. And, not without a slight grin, a moment later Morrigan delivered the party to the darkening yawn of the opening to the secret vault of the Templar lyrium.

As if for no apparent reason, the sorceress approached the twisted section of wall, placed her hand on the stone responsible for activating the mechanism and turned to face the group, deliberately meeting Lida's gaze. Nodding, the girl boldly stepped inside and disappeared into the gathering darkness. The invisible darkness here shrank around everyone, making the distance visible at arm's length, that is, obliterating vision. Morrigan sensed a lack of randomness in what was happening. At first, it seemed as if the current Master of the Tower's grip was loosening in the immediate vicinity of the lyrium. But logic whispered to the girl that there was another possibility, one that would have an even greater effect in this place. It would achieve many goals at once. Firstly, it would prevent access to the Lyrium, which would have to be searched for by touch in conditions that would be difficult for any mage. Fear for the foolish and a false sense of security for the wise. It was also an excuse for mages to waste both mana and health. So when Valinci, who had entered the room after her, immediately announced the creation of the Light, Morrigan just turned around in silence and watched the result. A little experience with other people's hands should have told her either that the sorceress was right, or that the demon who had created the breach in the veil was at the limit of his power. The light flashed. But in the same second, a dark cloud enveloped it, preventing it from spreading more than half an arm's length in either direction. According to the mage's frustrated words, he had only succeeded in turning the surrounding blackness into a dense wall, testing the strength of the claustrophobic attacks. For the others, light was only visible within two paces of the man, and then only in the form of a faint flame.

Sitting on the lid of the nearest chest, which she found by touch, Morrigan spoke.

— The darkness here leaves everyone in doubt. Valinci, do you think the Lord of the Tower knows of our plan?

A weary sigh came from the side and a reply.

— Or he's completely unaware of our plan. Are you saying we have a traitor in our midst? Or rather, possessed.

Immediately the voices of Anna and the unnamed man came out of the darkness, almost in unison, as they both seemed to be heading straight for the interior of the room.

— Creator. This is neither the time nor the place. Can't we discuss this after we find the lyrium? I'm about to throw up.

— No more jokes, guide. Show me where the lyrium is. And let's get out of this damn place before this headache drives us crazy.

Darin's grim, dry voice came next.

— I think this is the perfect place for such a conversation. You can't strangle the initiator of the conversation, and you can't see the faces of the people you're talking to. And it's hard to concentrate. And it's easy to blame us. But now that the question has been asked, think about whose promises are keeping us outside the perimeter? Wandering like blind moles in the unknown, suffering from high lyrium concentrations. And as we perish here one by one, who will protect those still alive below?

Morrigan laughed softly, successfully ignoring the symptoms of lyrium sickness she was already experiencing, and turned back to the squad leader.

— Valinci, no hints, just a question waiting to be answered.

At the sound of footsteps, the man retreated to the opposite wall before answering.

— I think, um, yes.

The sorceress nodded to herself and continued the conversation.

— Darin's speculations are foolish. Today, yesterday or tomorrow, the fate of everyone on the first floor is sealed. It's up to us to do something about it. But it's worth thinking about what lies ahead. If there's an ambush waiting at the exit, we're nothing more than a suit put on by the enemy. If not, we'll be in the dark until the end. The question is, when Niall broke the barrier, who was on duty in that room?

Valinci's reply was quieter than usual, with well-hidden signs of discomfort.

— Johann and Tomara. Almost immediately, Neria came running in, followed a little later by me.

— The first, drooling over Neria's beating. The second watched silently. And she is silent now, by the way. None of them stopped Niall from approaching the barrier. And wiping it out. So there's a stranger on one side and an old friend on the other.

Once again, no word is spoken until Tomara's quiet, cautious question echoes through the darkness.

— Are you foolish enough to hesitate at such a thing? Valinci? Lida?

The Morrigan grinned and added.

— Lida didn't go in.

At these words, a dry click came from the entrance and then, with a barely perceptible creaking, punctuated by a dry rustling, a segment of the wall swung open, trapping the six mages in the vault. Judging by silence, each of them froze, slowly realising what had happened. The golden-eyed sorceress, on the other hand, just shook her head in mild disbelief. What had happened was further proof of the madness that crept up on everyone in the darkness, corroding even the strongest of minds, when under the pressure of doubt the most bizarre and risky decisions became consistent. Of course, the girl herself had nudged Lida's already free-falling mind in the right direction. Still, the Morrigan found it unlikely that the woman would really dare to lock her own companions in the darkness of a stone sack next to a lyrium just to clear up her accumulated suspicions about a fake infiltrating the ranks. She squared her shoulders, crunched the vertebrae between her shoulder blades, and spoke to the darkness.

— Maybe she's a traitor. Or maybe Lida has decided to wait for the spiders in the bank to sort themselves out. Who knows? Isn't that right, Tomara?

Valinci's excited voice came in time with the Morrigan's question.

— Tomara?

And then, as if the question had been answered, came Anna's nasty gasp, cut short by the sudden, sunlit sweep of a sharp blade that severed the enemy's head from his shoulders. Taking that as a cue, the Morrigan began to strip quickly, not caring where her clothes fell as she continued to suppress the growing nausea. The blind darkness was pierced by the sorceress' steady voice, grave and deadly indifferent.

— Find an angle. So that your back is against a solid rock. Better where the sickness is less pronounced. You are in a not so spacious room, as your deceived senses whisper, this stone sack is full of chests of wood and metal with dangerous contents. And don't make any unnecessary noise.

In the background of the incomprehensible commotion, Darin cursed, albeit muffled, and Valinci continued to call for Tomara with a thick, lingering worry in his voice, ready to be coloured by fear. Morrigan tried to ignore both this background and the nausea of standing naked and alone in the middle of the darkness. As she exhaled and straightened up, the sorceress noticed, not for the first time, how much easier it was for her to accept the transformation, which from beginning to end was an anomaly and a symptom of the frightening changes. And then the girl's flesh began to change, adding the sound of snapping joints and tearing muscle and skin to the flavour of nervousness and fear that filled the darkness. Everyone in the room felt the spreading menace. It was like being in a cage with two predators whose backsides were already up, ready to rip each other's throats out at any moment. At the same time, if you listened carefully, you could hear the echoes of spells being brought to life, without being able to make out exactly what was being done, or by whom.

Suddenly, like a shout over a river breaking through the sound of water, a wet thud overrode the rest. A jarring sound came from across the room from Morrigan, accompanied by Darin's short moan of pain, which was immediately cut short by a second blow. Morrigan snapped out of her seat and used her body creatively to run quickly along the opposite side of the wall, her claws squeaking over the stonework. In an instant, the light-filled back of Valinci's head flashed past, turning instantly at the sound and movement of air. But all he could see was the ghost of a figure disappearing into the darkness, a figure that could not possibly belong to a man. In the place where Darin had recently stood, the still warm body of a mage with a damp hole in his left breastbone was now clearly visible. Without thinking, the Morrigan kicked away with her feet and threw her own body back towards Valinci, waiting to see if Tomara had run off to the next obvious target and decided to lay low.

Her suspicion was confirmed when the sorceress was confronted by a body moving through the darkness towards the squad leader. Without hesitation, the girl unleashed her frustration and tension in a burst of pure aggression and violence, biting and tearing. The opponent showed an extraordinary resistance to pain, confirming Morrigan's initial suspicions. In one mighty motion, the possessed woman attempted to tear the creature that had saddled her. There was as much humanity in the paw that gripped Morrigan's shoulder as there was in this one. Realising that the girl would lose at least one more member of the group before she could rejoin the enemy, she sunk her claws as deep as she could into the unyielding flesh. The girl's tenacity was something to be reckoned with. The crushed shoulder cracked nastily, a searing pain burning its way up the spine to the base of the skull. There was an unexpected upside to the eruption. The sharp pain easily pushed aside the waves of nausea and the beginnings of a migraine. With one limb out of action, Morrigan sank her teeth into her enemy's collarbone, tearing through the swollen and calloused mass of muscle. Feeling the familiar taste of warm blood in her mouth, the girl instinctively tried to reach the vulnerable neck, resisting the constant attempts to rip it away. Realising that it was losing, the monster that had devoured Tomara leapt sideways from its perch. With a clatter and clang of metal vessels, it smashed through the chest that stood in its way, imprinting its skinny body on the back of the wall. The blow nearly knocked the girl's spirit out of her, leaving her breathless and disoriented for a few unbearable moments. At the same time, flames erupted from Valinsi's side, aiming for the rumble without dispelling the darkness in the slightest. Probably the result of some variation of the Blazing Hand. The fire made no distinction between friend and foe. And that was probably the idea. It left more burns on the massive body of the possessed. Still, the Morrigan was having a hard time, and another burst of agony brought her back to the here and now. With a swing, she drove the claws of her working right hand beneath the creature's breastbone, the familiar grip of the lower rib inside. There was a deafening hiss in response, like a dozen angry snakes. The possessed woman spun with astonishing force and speed, slamming Morrigan's body back into the wall with a distinct crunch. The sound of the impact was accompanied by a gurgling, inhuman groan, with a whoosh of air escaping her lungs. And as if drawn by the pain, a bolt of magical arrows immediately emerged from the darkness, playfully entering the sorceress's elbow joint and tearing off everything beneath with a thud. This time the pain was blinding, gripping her mind so tightly that there was no room to scream, to breathe, to think. But heart kept beating. And after the enveloping numbness, the girl burst into a laugh that sounded more like a wet cough in this body. For on closer inspection, the arm that had been removed by the possessed had been torn off. Because the ones the Sorceress was protecting had done it. And finally, because of the desperate question in her mind as to what would happen in the reverse transformation... As a sign of Justice's presence, a bolt of energy also flew from Valinci's side. But though it was aimed at Morrigan, it struck the broad chest of the possessed woman. With a wet sound, it ripped out a fist-sized chunk of the possessed woman's flesh in a fountain of bloody shards.

Pulling herself out from under the viscous shroud of shock, she expertly used the energy in her blood to push her legs away from the wall. Pushing the fiend into the centre of the room, the wide mouth found the pliable flesh again and sunk its teeth into the gums. Tomara's irritated replacement abandoned her attempts to rip her foe from her, instead letting the Possessed's massive right fist deliver a series of jerky blows that struck Morrigan in the head. Her left paw tried to find the sorceress's leg. Fortunately, none of the blows found their target, instead striking the possessed woman once in the head. The girl struggled, realising that the heavy blow was guaranteed to stun her, even if time was slipping away with the rest of her strength. Abandoning her attempts to reach her neck, Morrigan tried to inflict as many wounds as she could before her luck changed.

Another Magic Arrow passed over the heads of the two monsters, knocking dust and fine crumbs from the ancient stones behind them with a dry crackle. At that moment, two things happened simultaneously. The possessed woman grabbed Morrigan's leg and immediately used the power of her bulging muscles to literally pull the sorceress off her own back. At the same time, the girl, seeing the creature's right fist frozen, managed to get the claws of her upper left hand around the swollen neck. And as the body was torn away, Morrigan used the fiend's strength to rip out her own caduceus along with the flesh. A moment later, at the same time as the desperate pain in her leg, the sorceress felt a swift movement around the massive body and a flight through the blackness. The sound of the wind in her ears was cut short by a sharp impact. Behind her, in the darkness, she heard an angry gurgle and the sound of blood splattering on the stone floor. The possessed woman refused to surrender. But after a minute of stalling, as the Morrigan tried to fill her aching lungs with precious air, there was the thud of the carcass, a few final scrapes, and silence.

— The Morrigan?

In a way, the sorceress felt a mixture of triumph and grim satisfaction as she heard Valinci acknowledge the inescapable reality and hope of the girl's victory with a single question. Of course, dark thoughts whispered in the background that the question was meant to ensure that it was her death and not Tomara's. But Morrigan silenced that voice in her mind. Even so, in her current state and form, she was unable to give the man an intelligible answer.

— Beware! We don't know what happened in the darkness. Or that it ended at all.

The voice of the mage, who had so far withheld his name and avoided most conversations, sounded full of suspicion, much more familiar to the sorceress' ear than the intonations of sincere concern of the squad leader. Spitting out the blood, the girl gathered herself and initiated a reverse transformation. She felt a wave of excruciating pain that was nothing compared to her previous transformation experience. The girl returned to her natural form, her teeth clenched in a moan she couldn't hold back. The first thing she did was to raise both hands in front of her nose and clench her fingers into fists, and she experienced a glimmer of bright relief. The rest was secondary.

Cautious footsteps were heard, until first a faint light appeared in the impenetrable darkness, and then the cold form of a man bent over Morrigan. And in that light, in addition to the obvious fact of her nakedness, it became apparent just how pitiful the sorceress' condition was. Her body was covered with nasty-looking abrasions on her back. There were also large, flesh-crushing fingerprints on her right shoulder, fresh reddish bruises on her left side, arm and thigh. And blood everywhere. The blood on his face and arms was the worst, covering them up to his elbows.

The mage frowned and asked through the force.

— Are you all right?

— Is the answer not obvious? Why does the prosecutor question clear truths?

— I suppose. I think you have a lot of explaining to do.

— It's nothing new.

— I can tell from your tone that can't hope for answers. Yes. But you're in no position to be evasive. The way you look now and the way I first saw you are very similar.

— The position is to avoid unnecessary questions. Remember your priorities.

— Half my squad seems to have fallen. Don't prioritise!

Valinci himself was the first to grumble at the raised voice, clearly suffering from a growing headache.

— I think it's about time. The original cause of their deaths, remember? And the chances for the rest of us. Enough of this. This righteous indignation. Survival is the priority. It's the only way to prove anything. Doubts and questions in the midst of battle are for fools and the dead. That is one thing. If you want proof of something, find Tamara's body in the dark. Traces of possession will be immediately apparent...

The second man's tense voice came from the other side.

— Strange as it may seem to admit it. But the girl is right. It... it doesn't look much like Tomara. But the amulets, the clothes, the earring, everything points to her.

Valinci presses his lips together into a thin line, but then breathes out impotently and asks.

— The others?

— Dead. Not a chance. Anna's neck snapped, her head almost completely torn off. Darina's chest was crushed in a single blow...

The Morrigan made an involuntary correction.

— Two.

After a brief pause, the voice replied.

— Whatever you say...

Valinci closed his eyes and asked about the last mate.

— How did Tomara die?

The mage tried to gently correct the squad leader.

— Valinci, it was no longer .....

— How?

— Well, from what I could see here. Multiple claw lacerations, a puncture wound under the ribs, bite marks and a torn throat.

Glancing darkly at the naked body beneath him, Valinci nodded to his own thoughts. The man's gaze lingered on the form of a living, breathing and, even in this state, attractive girl. But soon his eyes rose to her face again, meeting a raised eyebrow of expectation and defiantly accentuated surprise. Wrinkling his nose, the mage finally spoke.

— Where are the clothes?

— They're in here somewhere. Look for them. You'll find the lyrium. I'm going to rest, if you'll excuse me. It's been hard work.

At that, Morrigan's heavy eyelids dropped, hiding the yellow pupils. Just to give her eyes a rest, the girl convinced herself. Just for that...

* * *

Morrigan opened her eyes and felt someone rub her cheek. It was dark, but not as dark as the Lyrium Vault. Looking up, she saw Lydia leaning over her. The woman's face was a combination of doubt wrinkled on her high forehead, irritation hidden behind tightly pressed lips, and relief hidden in the depths of reddened eyes. A quick glance revealed that the girl was lying against the wall with her back to it. And she was in the hallway near the secret door, dressed, albeit sloppily. There were no men around. The silence dragged on and, apparently tired of waiting, the woman began to speak first.

  — I'm awake.

  The empty statement of fact caused a flash of irritation in the younger warlock, and the emotion definitely found an outlet on the girl's face as Lida shook her head tiredly before continuing.

  — Good. That's not the right word, though. It didn't go as planned.

  As she wiggled her arms and legs, Morrigan could see that her limbs were obedient and that they hurt all over. There were two or three places she hadn't even realised she was capable of feeling pain. The sorceress also felt that her upper body was bound tightly under her clothes with a cloth bandage, covering the abrasions on her back so that they would not touch anything when she moved. Only then, still clenching and unclenching the wrist of her right hand, did Morrigan deign to answer.

  — Not according to plan? What was the plan? Was there one? Did you believe what you said before? Lida, less hypocrisy. Or at least not so much. When you closed the door, you may have hoped for a smooth resolution. But you don't seem the type to lie to yourself. Locking your companions in the dark with a possessed man, you should have thought. Will anyone ever come out? Will anyone?

  The yellow eyes stung the woman fiercely and she finally turned away, crossing her arms over her chest in a protective posture.

  — There is truth in what you say.

  — Have you bandaged and dressed me?

  — Yes.

  — Thank you.

  — You shouldn't. Tomara… No, I don't want to know.

  — And rightly so. The way it was, remember. And you must try to forget the nightmare.

  — Optimistically...

  — It was either that or die.

  Groaning like an old woman and using the wall for support, Morrigan rose to her feet and began to straighten her clothes, continuing her conversation.

  — How long ago?

  — An hour.

  — And... I...

  — Did you sleep well?

  The sorceress replied in silence, keeping her eyes on her current case and waiting for Lida to continue. The woman sighed softly and paused for a moment before answering.

— You're no exception when it comes to nightmares. It's hard to say when the last time anyone here had a normal dream was. Into the abyss! I can't even remember the last time I woke up without remembering a dream more vivid than my own childhood. The fact that you were moaning and groaning in your sleep like everyone else was even comforting....I'm sorry. But I didn't wake you. Your body needed rest, even at the cost of another jumble of horrible images.

  Morrigan nodded, telling herself that she remembered nothing of the dream. There was nothing between the moment she closed her eyes and the moment she opened them again. And she didn't know if that was a bad symptom or a terrible one. In the past, nightmares had not passed without a trace.

  — Where are the others?

  — Digging through the vault. I think it's time to tell them what to do next. «Fire» is too abstract to be a guide to action. And everyone has felt the difference between a prepared battle with a possessed one and a sudden confrontation. While you... We've been talking. Frankly, what's happening now is little different from an elaborate suicide. I'm getting to the point where even the slightest hope of success is fading.

  Shrugging her shoulders and looking around, a little suddenly to herself, Morrigan muttered.

  — I'm sick of the dark. And I've only been here a short while. I can't imagine what it's like for you. Maybe this dark night has another purpose. Sure to drive you mad like the rest. The plan. Yes, the plan. The plan is simple. And a little mad, almost like your last idea. But we'll wait for the others.

  Lida nodded, leaning against the wall and casting her blind gaze into a room that was devoid of shape and depth due to the darkness. Morrigan, who was looking around carefully for signs of a breach, called out to the remaining mages in an unmistakably loud voice. Contrary to expectation, there was no echo in the spacious, high-ceilinged rooms.

  Soon a tired looking Valinsi and his mysterious partner, whose name was still unknown, emerged from the vault. The latter didn't even glance at the sorceress. The squad leader nodded and looked her over from head to toe once more. The girl spoke first, a few moments before the man.

  — No obvious questions about health, condition, well-being. Did you find the lyrium?

  — Yes. You may remove the chest.

  — Did you study it?

  — Slid a couple of crates to get the damp lyrium further in and make a toilet. Worthless revenge, just like us. And the natural necessities are still in play.

  Morrigan waggled her chin in disbelief, marvelling at how the man before her had managed to remain practical and collected enough to deal with something useful instead of falling apart or going mad from paralysing anticipation and endless worry mixed with self-love.

— Plan.

The word made the mage raise her eyebrows, and her stealthy partner finally «noticed» the sorceress' presence. Lida gestured to Morrigan and she began her story.

  — The point is simple. It's based on conjecture. So it's open to criticism. But only criticism that contains thought. It's best to keep the chatter to yourself. As each of you has noticed, the stairs to the fourth floor were guarded by a demon. Laziness or idleness. There's no reason why it should be any different between the fourth and fifth floors. But of course the demon would be many times stronger here. It goes with the idea that the closer you get to the Curtain Rupture at the top, and the further away from the base of the building, the more intelligent and powerful the demons are. Getting closer to the rift also brings other dangers. For example, the madness increases. I assume Proudhon hasn't moved. And he won't. Otherwise we wouldn't be here. There are two objectives. To defeat the guardian of the staircase. And then to destroy the Tower Lord. And no one but the First Wizard can be a worthy witness to the end of the crisis. Not my words.

  Valinci grinned grimly.

  — Gregor?

  — Commander, yes. Well, here's the thing. Lyrium will help us defeat both targets. It just so happens that there's no one left with a powerful fire spell. Valinci, you've seen the formulas that can start fires, you know.

  The mage nodded openly and waited patiently for the continuation.

  — We'll place flammable things at the entrances to the central hall. Let's make a fire. The more smoke the better. We will smoke the creature out. It'll die, run away, or come after us. The main thing is to get it away from the stairs.

  The second mage interjected, slightly suspicious.

  — What makes you so sure that whatever's sitting there won't come after us?

  — The best guards would not be tempted to roam the floors out of laziness and idleness. Like on the third floor. To the fires. We'll build another one by the stairs. Smoke again. But this time, everything in the lyrium will go up in flames.

  The three mages all turned pale. The unnamed member of the group was the first to speak again, clarifying what the others were worried about.

  — As it vaporises, the lyrium will quickly regenerate into an unbound state and regain its poisonous properties. Rising with the smoke as a fine suspension, it will poison anyone gifted with the talent.

  Lida hummed and corrected in a strained voice.

  — It's not only poison for magicians. But... Yes, the mages will die first. Painfully. Very.

  Morrigan shrugged, brushing aside the hint of overkill.

  — Remember? I'm open to suggestions. But judge for yourself, how do you see yourself now compared to the one who started this nightmare?

  There was no one to beat his chest and make a brave speech. But Valinci tried to find an alternative.

  — Niall?

  The Morrigan caught the idea and shook her head negatively.

  — If he'd had something practical in his hands besides blood magic... The journey would not have ended in this hall. He would have died anyway. But he didn't. This hope is empty. It looks like the edge of a blade. This is the truth of our chances. The idea is that the poison will make the demon disappear. Probably before its victims are dead. In the worst case, we clear the fortress, but the First Wizard dies. And the negotiations with the Commander will fall on your shoulders.

  Valinci nodded, accepting each of the arguments, but in a grim, focused tone began to clarify another aspect of what was to come.

  — There's something beyond that, a brutality that puzzles me. Lyrium dust. There is a Church law against the use of Lyrium against mages. On the one hand, this is to appease the Circles and stop the widespread use of Lyrium as a weapon by nations and free cities. But more importantly, it is the cornerstone of a political deal with Tevinter that removes the inevitability of conflict between a mage-ruled state and a religious organisation dedicated to keeping mages under strict control. There is a single exception to such a ban, enacted in the aftermath of the Nevarran Incident in Age of Glory. «The Right of Extermination». Everyone here should understand this. This is not a matter of conscience and the trampling of personal principles. This is a serious offence in the eyes of the Church hierarchy. Much more serious than apostasy, the public use of blood magic and similar trifles. This is about politics and the precedent it sets. Everyone should keep quiet. And not just for their own sake. It would be more convenient for the Church to wipe out an entire circle, already compromised by mass possesion, than to deal with the source of dangerous rumours. And if my comrades can appreciate the weight of that argument, I cannot say the same for you, Morrigan.

  The sorceress flashed a mischievous smile, which immediately turned into a pained grimace as she attempted a mock bow in slight mockery of the squad leader's monologue.

  — Which brings us to the deal.

  — To the fact that your word is shitty currency.

  — You've got nothing better to do. Be objective. Now that you've been warned, you can't let it slip. I'm not suicidal. Or are you afraid of something else? The stranger who holds the life of the circle in her fist? Even at the cost of her own skin.

  — Obviously.

  The girl looked at the man as an obvious fool and shrugged her shoulders.

  — Well, there was nothing we could do. But, wait. Can we? I think we've had this conversation before...

  The three members of the circle looked at each other. Lida grimaced but nodded. The second mage, looking dejectedly at the toes of his boots, said.

— There is no choice in a desperate situation.

  Valinci returned his heavy gaze to the Morrigan.

  — What's the matter?

  — If you have any doubts about me, keep them to yourself, whatever the case may be.

  — That's it?

  — Not enough?

  — Not at all. No. Well, I think I can speak for everyone. There must be a downside to this. If we catch you being too ironic, we'll deal with the situation as we see fit. And by «we» I mean any of us who will justify our own suspicions of you to the rest of us.

  Morrigan nodded slowly, aware of the unpredictability and far-reaching consequences of such an agreement. But she shook the outstretched hand anyway, also aware that there was no other way. There was only idle chatter.

  — The details are settled. It's time to begin.

* * *

Surprisingly for the greatly diminished group of mages, Morrigan's plan began to materialise without serious deviation or hindrance. Although the amount of preparation had been greatly underestimated. The main blessing was the complete absence of demons and possessed, who could not only spoil the blood, but also exhaust any efforts. The confirmation of Morrigan's prediction that the dangerous demons had sensed something and gone back behind the veil gave everyone a shred of confidence. And it also reinforced the role of «leader» in the minds of the three members of the circle.

Two opposite alcoves led from the outer corridor to the central hall on the fourth floor. The conditions inside were similar to those in the vault. That is, not the clear boundary of the Shadow's variability, but the impenetrable blackness that was the result of the Tower Master's influence on the place. It took two hours to herd everything that burned and smoked into its proper place. Bedding, clothing, leather goods, skins, parchment and the like. When Valinci had completed his barricade, he committed the first of a necessary series of transgressions against the laws of the Circle by deliberately starting a fire.

The flames burned reluctantly. It was too reluctant, as if some will prevented it. But with the judicious use of magic and an abundance of lyrium potions, the squad leader kept the flames burning. Soon two huge fires were smoldering desperately, filling the central hall with a suffocating stench and heat. Of course, the smoke was pouring into the corridor, so I had to put bandages on my face and keep pointing it in the right direction, sweating all the while. I don't know how it looked from the outside, on the fifth floor or outside the building, but the desired reaction had to wait an hour and a half. And that time soon began to weigh on the «saviours» of the Fortress, not only with tension mixed with fatigue, but also with mundane hunger and thirst.

Of the three options Morrigan had predicted, the third worked. At some point there was a heavy growl in the room, and then the pile of burning junk at one end of the room began to move apart in response to the slow advance of Bereskarn's silhouette. There was no telling how a demon-possessed southern bear, distorted by the foulness, had got here. Or perhaps the demon had deliberately assumed this form out of personal preference. Not bothering to sort out the details, the party waited for a face-to-face encounter and hurried to the opposite passageway. Each had a supply of chests of Templar lyrium compositions pulled from storage, and a pile of broken furniture for firewood. The only difficulty was dismantling the burning and smoking barricade. Instead of complicated magic, five winter blankets piled on top of each other helped create a digestible temporary «bridge».

Then events began to unfold with doubled speed. While the «guardian of the stairs» walked slowly along the corridor in search of the perpetrators of his own irritation, it was necessary to drag firewood through the impenetrable darkness to the lower steps, light a fire and...With trembling hands, he began to empty the bottles bearing the symbols of the Corps, afraid of inhaling the clouds of smoke. And the hardest part is to repeat the movements over and over again, in time to realise that the demon, which is helping to pierce the veil, has left the host's body and it is time to stop. Or it is worth the risk to do it earlier....Or even earlier, when an angry imitation of Bereskarn would fall on the group's heads.

The four worked monotonously, listening to every sound, for it was impossible to see the danger approaching. And the result of their work was black smoke with a dark blue tinge, billowing into the stairwell. At an uncertain moment, due to the loss of the sense of time, the most secretive of the four, unable to bear the silence, asked.

— What if the demon decides to ventilate the fifth floor? What use would our efforts be then?

Valinci furrowed his sooty brow, but Morrigan had a counter-argument.

— The one downstairs won't. It's not a matter of subtlety. He has, by all accounts, limited the spread of the veil rupture. And neither of them has changed anything or anyone since. They've both clung to each other, I think, hand and foot. Figuratively speaking.

The man hummed grimly.

— Hoping.

— Counting. There's a difference. Why does everyone keep your name so secret from me?

Valinci answered instead of the mage himself.

— There's nothing mysterious about it. Our comrade is paranoid, and the current atmosphere has not softened his inclinations. Besides.

— Shaft!

— Come on. What now?

— There is always... The Creator! Do what you want.

Lida smiled sadly with blackened lips as she took a few steps back and removed the bandage to catch her breath. The squad leader nodded gravely and continued.

— Jeanne. That's his name. And beyond paranoia, Jeanne finds his own origins inappropriate. Shameful even.

— Orleigh?

— Occupation.

Morrigan shook her head in mild confusion, but did not rush to judgement or comment. After all, the girl knew nothing about her own father.

Suddenly, Lida shrieked and pointed to the niche behind the group. Naturally, everyone immediately prepared to flee, turning around to check the extent of the threat. But instead of an enemy, a pale streak of daylight from a nearby room with a window lay on the floor of the visible part of the corridor. The light didn't look triumphant or victorious, but like a warm touch it melted the tight knot of expectation of the worst.

Jeanne was the first to break out of her stupor, pushing Valinci's shoulder. Without a word, the two men began pulling up the fireplace and carefully scattering the burning logs around the spacious room. They cast a cheerful glow on the walls of the austere hall, which looked more like a Templar parade ground than the central room of a mage-filled stronghold.

The darkness thickened only in the corners, and the shadows took on familiar edges and shapes. Every detail returned to normal. After repeating the ritual of administering lirium potions to those whose bodies were still capable of absorbing the dangerous mineral, the four began the final ascent. There were no surprises on the stairs. It looked maddeningly ordinary. And on the way out, a sight awaited everyone, albeit impressive to varying degrees. Circle mages had been here before, and more than once. But this was the first time for Morrigan. The hall took up the entire fifth floor. Huge, vast, impressive, overwhelming, majestic... The ceiling rose to a dizzying height, forming a vault painted a magnificent azure blue. From this distance it could be mistaken for a natural cloudless sky. The walls between the narrow window frames, spaced a dozen metres apart and broken into small squares of glass, protruded inwards in semicircular columns, as if to squeeze the sunlight in from the outside. And there were no other supporting structures. The floor was covered with mosaics and worn symbols that had once held sacred meaning for the Empire that had faded into history. But apart from the triumph of architecture and the array of marvellous engineering solutions that fascinated the minds of the architects, there were less pleasant things here.

The first thing that struck the eye was the damage to most of the windows around the perimeter of the hall. The panes were cracked, unyielding to the force pressing down on them. Frames and columns were chipped here and there by strange, lashing blows. Then the general attention was drawn to the dry creaking underfoot and the familiar sickness that rose in the throat. It was the tiny particles of lyrium that had fallen from the smoke as it cooled. The mages should not linger here, and it was best not to fall to the ground. Eventually, the eyes of the group focused on the bodies in the centre of the open space. A dozen and a half figures.

Approaching cautiously, the mages began to identify the circle's senior warlocks and wizards one by one. Virtually the entire top of the Kinloch Firmament Circle lay here, marked with moderate signs of possession. Perhaps they had been surprised by what had happened in the midst of the Council meeting, where Uldred had openly expressed his call for radicalism. Perhaps they had decided to fight rather than flee, regardless of the chances of victory, to give the others a little more time. They were now just the silent dead. All had a common feature that indicated the cause of death. Profuse bleeding from the nose, eyes, mouth and ears. A characteristic sign of fatal mage poisoning by lyrium. Apparently, the possessed continued to inhale the dust as it settled out of the smoke, without the slightest precaution.

At the centre of the dark semicircle of bodies sat three men. Each in a kneeling position, head in the ground. To the left of the central figure was a woman well past the five decades of winter, and to the right an older man in the robes of the First Wizard. Both were shrouded in a translucent sphere, woven from a complex web of mana unlike anything Morrigan had ever seen. At first glance, they seemed impenetrable. The third figure in the centre belonged to a bald man with no obvious signs of possession.

— Uldred.

Lida's exasperated cry answered the most important questions. And while the trio pondered, misjudging the risks, the Morrigan drew a dagger from the sheath on Valinsi's belt and simultaneously cast a spell on the main culprit.

— Tua vita mea este.

But before the blade-wielder could react, the spell licked the body helplessly, showing clearly that there was no life in it. With a bold, sweeping stride towards the body, Morrigan pushed the dead man aside, revealing to the others two additional pairs of eyes on the strangely altered face. Six eyes, open and red from ruptured blood vessels. There was a mask of calm superiority on the man's once strong-willed face, a stark contrast to his posture. Suddenly, the dead man focused all six of his pupils on the sorceress and mumbled softly, barely moving his tongue as he exhaled the air left in his lungs.

— I'll remember that.

Then, all of a sudden, his eyes rolled up, revealing only reddish whites with no sign of a pupil.

Lida shrugged and voiced her general thoughts quietly.

— Creepy...

Jeanne nodded, adding a pinch of her own conclusions.

— And sad. The older mentors are dead. The Circle is essentially decapitated. We're not that far from extinction.

Valinci shook his head negatively and gave his comrade a stern look from beneath his lowered eyebrows.

— Even one saved life is valuable. And we've saved many more. We may only have hard times ahead of us, but at least we will catch them.

Morrigan frowned, unable to get the dead man's strange behaviour and multiplying questions out of her mind, but she responded to the squad leader's blurted statement.

— On the surface. But I'm inclined to agree. Now. What are we going to do about it?

The sorceress pointed languidly at the two orbs. Valinci gave the girl a strange look, smeared dirt on her cheek with the outside of his palm, then turned to the subject of the question and answered slowly.

— It's the Ultimate Force Field. It turns out that Irving, the First Enchanter, and Inesa Arancia, the Senior Enchantress, know this rare and complex formula. And also the secret of how to bind a spell so that it remains in place even when its author is unconscious. A fine art. I would hazard a guess that there's some blood magic involved as well. I don't know how long these orbs have been here. The spell should successfully prevent any outside influence, while also restricting the mage within. Perhaps even protect against the effects of lyrium. But the fact that only these two are covered... I'm glad they're still alive. And yet some questions remain. I can't help but feel a pang of... disappointment.

— A hero in shining armour, isn't that shining?

The man made no response to the blatant mockery, only clenched his fists into a white knuckle. The Morrigan grinned imperceptibly and smoothed it over with the next sentence.

— Well. We're not much good for heroes either. But the question remains.

Lida licked her filthy lips, grumbled and spat, approached the orbs and spoke thoughtfully.

— If the demon didn't open these defences, we have no business being here. Ironically, we need the help of the Templars. Before the spells suck the last crumbs of life out of these two.

Morrigan sighed, looking around at the pathetic remnants of the group.

— Let's go down then. Let them witness this scene for themselves. And deal with the consequences. The role of saviour may soften the warriors of the Creator. I don't think we can do any better here.

Wiping his tired face with his sunken eyes, only to find himself smearing soot and sweat all over it again, Valinci nodded. It was obvious that the mage was holding on by sheer will alone, abstracting everything that had burdened the man's mind during the time he had spent in the lingering nightmare. The compromises he had made with himself over the last twenty-four hours had taken their toll. Even Lida and Jeanne were looking fresher. The sorceress herself, overcoming the pain, only wanted a full night's sleep without dreams, preferably outside the walls of the stronghold. Definitely a full bath. Even a cold lake would do. A full meal... She reminded herself not to forget the library, even now.

* * *

On the first floor, the group was greeted with an extremely restrained cheer. The members of the circle who were capable of feeling emotions did not allow themselves to feel any, just in case, and postponed it until the real sun was overhead. As everyone had hoped, the barrier separating the ground floor from the second floor was gone. The pitifully small remnants of the Circle's adult population were standing almost full length in front of the unharmed healers. They immediately rushed to the aid of friends and acquaintances, ignoring the warnings of the elderly woman standing in the front row. Apparently she had been the leader up to that point.

  Morrigan watched with interest from within the flowing crowd as the sombre gaze of a very distinguished Valinci clashed with the firm gaze of an older, but trim, woman with a neat hairdo. The two stood in stark contrast, as if symbolising irreconcilable ideas. A victor, soiled and compromised on the outside, and a representative of the old generation, clean on the outside, who seemed to have saved more lives, but could hardly be credited for it. There seemed to be no warmth between them before, and none now, with the new weight of mutual suspicion. The mage nodded briefly, receiving an equally restrained response, and walked past to the exit. Without giving the brooding stranger any more time, Morrigan slipped behind Valinci unnoticed.

  As they approached the large, fortress-like doors that served as the only entrance and exit to the entire building, the clamour of the novices began to grow. The doors were ajar, but just barely open enough for one not too well-fed mage at a time to slip sideways through the gap. The Templar's armour could be seen on the other side, gleaming in the evening sunlight. Carefully, the squad leader pushed his way through the ranks of the teenagers and made his way to the exit. Morrigan couldn't make out the man's voice over the din. So the sorceress began to look around. The children were on the verge of tears. Their faces reflected a mixture of hope that was beginning to emerge and fear that would not let go. Each one spoke to his neighbour, even if he did not listen to the other. Opinions and ideas swirled about in a chaotic discussion without the slightest supervision, as mentors other than Morrigan's squad helped fellow survivors down the stairs. From the outside, it looked like a storm gathering strength, and the sorceress instinctively felt how close to disaster the slightest spark of panic would be. She was like a dry tree before a fire, ready to be struck by lightning. Turning, the girl began to search her eyes for other familiar faces. A moment later, she came upon a tense Neria, concentrating yard by yard in the direction of the crowd. Looking up, she saw the teenage sorceress standing there, smiling genuinely, not hiding her relief. Morrigan noted to herself that, oddly enough, it was exactly what the girl's tortured mind needed. Selfless empathy. Tugging at the corner of her mouth, she tried to smile back, wondering what Bethany and Leliana would have advised her at this moment. Looking around again, and noticing that Valinci's intonation had changed from calm to raised, the Morrigan wrinkled her nose and raised her fist, drawing the attention of her immediate surroundings. Without wasting any initiative, the girl spoke loudly and clearly.

  — Who wants to go outside?

  A ragged chorus of uncertain voices answered, and the girl immediately repeated the question.

  — Who wants to go outside? Louder!

  This time the answer was an almost shrill cry that caught the surprised attention of Valinci, who had let the first sentence pass him by.

  — You're afraid. You should be! There are protectors behind these doors. And they're more afraid of you than you are of them. That's why the doors are not open. Yes, they're cowards today! As you and I are sometimes. But cowards have sharp swords and strong armour. What have you got? Nothing? Wrong! Wealth! Youth! No blood on your hands, no darkness in your soul! It is abundance. That can conquer fear and swords. For cowards swear oaths. Their world is built upon them. An individual Templar may be a bastard. But together? The tenets of the Order and the Church are sacrosanct in the light of day and in the eyes of their brethren. Without sanction from above, it's a hundred times harder to raise a sword against the innocent. But there is another reason you are on this side of the door. It's excruciatingly scary to be the first. Anyone but me. Right? Because the first would be trampled into the ground by both strangers and your own. And what does any of you care about the others if you're the one to die? But without the first stone, the avalanche cannot be born.

  Morrigan glanced around at the shamed teenagers, casting suspicious glances at the door. Valinci made signs to stop immediately, glaring at the sorceress with dazed eyes, but a new voice followed, making the situation irreversible.

  — I'm not afraid to be the first!

The Morrigan turned sharply at the familiar voice and stared into Neria's direct, confident gaze. Limping, she began to walk towards the door in complete silence, moving freely through the resulting passageway towards Valinci. The girl didn't look like a leader or a powerful mage. But that was all the more imprinted on the young minds. Irritated questions flew at the mage's back from behind the door, but the man gazed at the stunted elven girl with fascination, if not some confusion. Standing in front of him, the girl ordered without hesitation.

  — Step back.

  The mage opened his mouth, but closed it immediately, leaning back and lowering his head wearily. Neria slipped easily into the gap, as if into a doorway, and announced with all the strength of her small lungs.

  — There are wounded and children. We're coming out. Bloodstained swords or spared, your choice before the Creator. But none of us will stay one second longer in the cursed fortress.

  There was the sound of blades being drawn and some indistinguishable shouts in the distance. The sound of Neria's shuffling footsteps worked better than any spell. The boy roared madly and swung forward like a mass of water, pushing against the doors. Valinci flattened himself against the right wing, which creaked in protest and began to move. There seemed to be no stop at the back, just padded blocks of stone or something. As the passage began to widen, another cry of victory rang out, and a flood of people rushed out. But not senselessly, in a fit of merciless madness. Neria's example had, for the time being at least, illuminated something good in their immature minds. The youngest children were pushed forward, almost carried in their arms, followed by the protesting girls, and only then did the older boys move forward in a haphazard fashion. The flood of children, who began to cry at the sight of the sky, was a severe blow to the Templars' psyche, as they had no direct order to attack. And before the doubts of the armed men swayed to one side or the other, threatening to do something irreparable, a loud, terse order was heard.

  — Sheath your blades!

A moment later, the sorceress and the other adults were carried outside, into the cool air under the dazzling evening light, which bathed their faces in a welcoming warmth. The scents of wood, straw, fire, food and latrine were intoxicating and comforting. Even the faint touch of the breeze and the sound of the leaves seemed like a miracle. Ignoring the situation on the edge of a knife, smiles and joy filled the whole place. The Templars in full uniform kept the crowd at bay as best they could, but from the slits of their helmets confused, bewildered, perhaps a little frightened eyes without a shadow of hate looked at the scene. Morigan quickly spotted Neria standing at the edge of the crowd and ran towards her, immediately falling into an open embrace. Both exhaled in pain. The elves laughed, and Morrigan allowed herself the ghost of a smile that eventually contained nothing but the smile itself.

  The novices were followed one by one by the adults, led by the lady who had greeted them on the ground floor stairs. She shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand and smiled kindly. At the same moment, heavy footsteps approached quickly behind Morrigan. The girl turned to see the figure of the Corps Commander with the veterans surrounding him and the grim Alim looming behind him. The six Templars stopped a few paces away and the sorceress allowed a grin to appear on her face.

  — Did the wager go well? The result may be far from ideal, but that's the way it is. As for the first wizard.

  The sentence was interrupted by four naked blades that froze with uncanny precision at the girl's throat, still jingling softly. Gregor's harsh voice, without a trace of warmth, said.

  — On charges of apostasy, malice, multiple murders of warriors of the Creator, and suspicion of possession, you are sentenced to death!

  The scattered crowd moved away as water hissed from the hot rocks. Only Neria stayed close, not moving a muscle. The elven girl's eyes fluttered, not understanding the background of what was happening. Morrigan slowly wiped the emotion from her face and shifted her gaze from the cold, tense Commander to Alim.

  — You?

  The elf replied in eloquent silence. Ignoring the sorceress, he turned to his sister.

  — Neria, come here. Please.

  — But she saved me, Alim! I don't understand.

  The elf's face cracked, torn by inner contradictions. There was remorse, pain and irritation. But with a sigh he pulled himself together, put his mask back on and repeated.

  — It's the right thing to do. For everyone. I'll explain later.

  Morrigan chuckled wickedly and nudged Neria towards her brother with her fingertips.

  — Go to him. He'll tell you some stories. Maybe he won't even forget how I saved his skin.

  Then the sorceress concentrated on Gregor.

— Death, then.

  The Commander replied firmly, without looking away.

  — No. The situation is anything but normal. Considering what you may have done. It's possible. I'll go over the details first. Then we'll check the shithouse. Reinforcements will be there. In a situation like this, they always send someone who can determine possession. Only then will the fate of the survivors be decided. And I would be happy to put your fate in his hands.

  — A clear conscience? Isn't that a dream... Isn't it too late for that?

  — If I were you, I wouldn't be sarcastic, I'd be happy for the reprieve. But I'm not you.

  — Fair enough. If you were me, you'd kill everyone. Better take care of the First Wizard while he still has a chance.

  Glancing at Valinci, who stood nearby and for whom darkness seemed to be second nature, Morrigan shouted.

  — The deal's still on as long as alive. Tell the fools about Irving.

  The girl turned her attention back to the Templars and asked.

  — Will personal items be returned?

  — The church lady who was with you has it.

  — Do what you have to do...

  The sorceress won a small personal victory with the empty resolution, but that was all. Gregor gestured to the side, and the four veterans led the girl to the nearest building without removing their blades. The commander himself headed for Valinci. And the last thing the Morrigan saw was the scene of brother and sister communicating in hushed tones under the supervision of a couple of Templars...