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Ezra isn’t passively sensitive to blood magic. That was the sort of thing that got Tie Breaker training halted and the mage redirected into some other form of spirit magic.

It was a useful skill until it wasn’t and there was too much blood magic around at once and over stimulation caused mistakes. Sensitivity to blood magic was excellent unless it couldn’t be turned off, in which case it was a potential liability.

Even so- even without speaking it out- they could sense it. Potential and spilt blood something thrumming from somewhere.

Elgar'nan is not supposed to be here, none of the reports mentioned the possibility of him showing up beyond the always looming threat of him being awake again. They knew that at any time he could, that was why they had the wards, but now the dreadful possibility was right in front of them. 

Nyx stops breathing , and again, just like before, the darkness curls in on the edges of their vision, but they hold it off. He doesn't know they are there, they could still help, and they should still help. There is no reason that him being here should stop them.

They are always a little bit aware of split blood, in the same way a warrior might recognize the light glinting off a blade. There is so so much of it. And in the distance, and they could taste the spirits malicious and not pressing against the veil. Compassion and Despair and Valor and Fear and Courage and Bloodlust and Wisdom and Rage.

They weigh their risks and pull out all the stops of their spirit, so much stranger than it had ever been. Their tethers and wards have only strengthened over time and give feedback. They glow distinctly even in the light of the day, a full set of wings and eyes. Their own eyes are pupil less, so they could see through all their eyes at once.

As they move through the forest looking for those liberated and taking out any venatori they found. They can feel as they draw near Elgar'nan and they know He could feel them as well. They try to be careful, but they know he will try to take them. They have faith that Ezra's wards will give Elgar'nan a run for his money.

“Ah, little Protection, you’ve come crawling back to me. You see now the error of your old choice to leave me. What a perfect time for you to reunite with me in the hour of reclamation of my glory.” They feel Elgar'nan’s grip around them, the red swirling of his magic pulling them closer.

They plant their feet and resist. “Never, I left you and I refuse to join your cruelty again. I am not yours.” Elgar'nan growls in frustration when he can't force them, and as predictable as ever, he tries to bend them to his will trying to use his magic to rebind them to him, and Ezra's wards flare.

The symbols Ezra had traced in ink and blood along Nyx’s skin begin to flicker and then spread. It is a maze with a prize at the center, with walls too high to climb and too low to dig and too strong to crack too fast for a path to be found.

The wards aren’t unbreakable- but that’s fine, because there’s no such thing as an unbreakable ward, not really. But there are such a thing as strong wards, and such a thing as clever wards, and such a thing as tricky wards.

A strong ward would not be enough to hold back Elgar’nan.

A clever ward might not be either- although it might last longer.

But a tricky ward?

Strength doesn’t matter in a fight against an opponent you haven’t noticed on the rooftop above you holding a brick.

Cleverness doesn’t matter against someone who’s openly cheating to an audience that doesn’t care.

The magic creates a lattice of words and sigils and poetry and power that wind in and around each other in confusing twists and spirals. The beginning is hidden in the middle and the end is halfway between that and the start. It changes and how it changes and when is based on a pattern that’s solvable yes- but not quickly.

It takes a long time changes too much for anything you learned from your failure to be useful if you tried again. Like trying to retrace your steps along the shore when the tides have risen and fallen again.

The wards are working. They’re working!

They struggle and the wards let them slip like water through Elgar'nan’s hands, but he keeps trying to catch them. They need to hide from him. They wrack their brain for how they escaped him the first time, and they remember only darkness.

Darkness! That’s what it was. It fills them with dread, they know the darkness and how it fills their lungs, but they know it will work, they are not night, but they are not as bright as the sun. They are the light in the dark, and they need that darkness again.

They pull on the shadows around them, between the leaves of trees, in the corners of the ruins. They let the darkness fill their lungs and their breath becomes labored, but they keep breathing and keep their eyes open. They look for their tethers, Vena, Kalais, Bug, Desi, Rook, Ezra. They are the brightest spots in their sight, but their sky is filled with many smaller lights, all the people they had met and formed connections with.

They reach toward them and out of Elgar'nan’s hands.

“Ezra! They worked perfectly. I was able to get away.” They take the other’s hand and move from where they were, not risking the possibility of lingering here. They know he will try again, it is just a matter of what.

They reach out for Ezra, needing that reassurance as they hadn't said anything yet, but they are looking beyond Nyx into the mid-distance and Nyx can feel the magic working on them.

An anger they rarely feel burns in their chest. They pull on Ezra's tether and increase their protection that they have given them. They imagine the breaking of threads around them.

They are in a palace. There is a warmth on their face. The sun? They thought it was the sun. They were surrounded by people who. Who- were they? They were fairly certain that they knew or should know? The people looked like people. They had sockets with eyes and mouths with teeth and heads with hair, and markings on their faces that felt right.

They were people- even if Ezra couldn’t quite identify them- even if they knew them. They had to know them? How else could they be there? What Ezra was certain of was that they were safe. Not just Ezra themself, but these- people who had faces and yet- did not. One of the figures meets Ezra’s eyes. They stand out more than the rest, even though their features are obscured. Their hair a flame and their eyes a glow. Their mouth is turned into a scowl and their glare burns more than the sun did- although it feels more real. 

It stares at Ezra, and then it looks to the side. Ezra follows its gaze.

There is a figure more clear that the rest. They stand away from the crowd. Ezra hadn’t recognized them at first, or but perhaps they had just arrived? A Protection Spirit! The figure had grey hair shining branch like groves on their face. Their eyes were like glass and their smile painted on. They looked almost doll-like.

That's Nyx. Why would Nyx look that way? Why would they- And they were safe, because of the light of the Sun shining on Ezra and through Ezra and no one could hurt them- any of them. And all they had to do was to embrace the Sun back and-

This- wasn’t a thought of their own. None of this was. Because whomever had created this version, did not know what Nyx look liked happy. 

Ezra looked out into the indistinct crowd. Were any of these people happy? With their glassy eyes and painted smiles?

None of them were. Because none of this was real. Except-

They look out into the crowd, and bit into the meat of their palm, clenching a bloodied fist, and yanked- as if pulling aside an invisible curtain.

They are on a cliffside- a place they weren’t quite sure how they left and knew they never had. Immediately they turned to Nyx. Their runes flashed and burned like embers waiting for a simple gust of air.

They squeezed their staff with their bloodied hands, the white wood remaining just as white as it always was.

 They gently cupped Nyx’s cheek, and waited for them to return from wherever they were.

“Here/Helper/Here”

The Glorious Sun has important plans today, so they must be completely vigilant. The people that the Sun had gathered were large in number and not good at waiting. They had caused a disturbance already with an animal of some kind. Protection hated when innocent creatures got in the path of the Sun's glory. 

“See, aren't you so glad that you returned to me Protection? I can keep you away from the riff raff. You will be witness to the coming of my new kingdom.” Nyx was very used to how Elgar'nan talked, it was irritating to say the least. They much preferred… someone else. They blinked, trying to recall the face they were thinking of, gray like their own hair and purple. Helper. 

But they don't know a helper spirit, do they? 

They try to remember how they got here. They had left Elgar'nan, so why did they return?

“Protection! What ARE you doing? I need you here and at your best.” 

They blink and nod looking back to the Sun. “Of course, my apologies.” but they still can't shake the nagging feeling that they need to look for this Helper. 

They look past Elgar'nan to try and find them. They felt in their spirit that they needed to find them, something was tugging on them. Something pulled at their chest. They turn away from Elgar'nan again, searching the faces to find the one they need, following the tug in their chest. Their feet are moving before they think. They see them, their friend, Helper. “Ezra!”

The magic breaks around them both, their connection to each other prevailing over anything that Elgar'nan tried to ply them with. Nyx wonders what pulled Elgar'nan’s attention away from them, likely whatever the inner circle is doing, so they should get moving. They lock eyes with Ezra and they don't need words to both get moving to help the captives.

There are cages, full of terrified people with Venatori standing outside of them that are, in Ezra’s opinion, not terrified enough.

They can fix both of those things.

Ezra runs towards the first one, quick, efficient. Their staff clenched tightly and their fingers splayed as sickly green melts the first guard from the inside and their lightning took out the second.

They knew they could trust Nyx to watch them as their magic ripped apart the threads holding the cage door closed. They almost burn under their finger tips. They felt- something- and they turned to find a Venatori too close to them and rushed forward. Their palm, cracking with lightning, slams into his chest and they are sent to the ground, twitching lifelessly.

They notice Jerran, dressed in his old mercenary garb. He makes eye contact with them, and then his dagger is in the chest of a man standing next to him, dressed similarly. And so Ezra works on freeing the Dalish trapped inside.

There are so many people here. They don’t recognize any of them, and they wish that they did. Just enough so that they could know who to look for and who to ask about. There are Dalish elves in the Veilguard. They seem to know what to do, so Ezra focuses on what they know. Their fingers picking apart arcane locks with ease. They feel like they should be bleeding, but they know that’s just in their head. Shaza and her son look different- and it’s perhaps the magic of this place getting to their head. But they help guide the people to safety.

Their eyes catch that of a woman. The left side of her face is covered in blue ink, save for the negative space in the shape of twisting vines that’s mirrored on her left. They do not envy her. She looks away from Ezra, her head lowered. Ezra’s smile is as soft for her as it always is.They rub their own face in sympathy. In another life, they could easily see themselves as having donned Falon’Din or perhaps June’s vallaslin, and the idea is-

They’d have scraped their skin raw.a

They nod towards the where the other members of the Veilguard are waiting to bring the newly freed to safety. That woman, they point in the direction of Naina. The white haired woman should be able to give her the guidance and help she’ll need.

That’s the nice thing about Veilguard. Everyone has a part to play, a piece to fill. And if everyone does what they know, then there’s nothing left to be done.

They take up their bow and cover Ezra as they work. They feel each breaking of the seals and bindings like small pops of energy released. They fire as fast as they can, most of the venatori coming for them only need one shot to take down, but they start to overwhelm with numbers alone. They see some slipping through and getting closer. The crack of lightning is familiar and expected as Ezra drops one that was too close to them, and Nyx redoubles their efforts. 

They see as allies start to join, more arrows join their own; more pops of energy as bindings break; the sound of metal clashing on metal. Truly there are so many venatori here. 

They free the last of the captives and they start to move to retreat.

There is a calm, in which there’s no one left to fight and no adrenaline rushing through their veins and nothing to siphon from and then that’s when it happens.

It was the wetness they’d felt first. A damp that brought with it a chill on their borrowed disguise. The stinging came next, and then, an understanding as they stared at the red on their fingertips. 

Their side was very very wet with something that felt like potential.

Blood. It’s not one of the Venatori’s nor one of the Dalish. And there’s a lot of it.

 They caught Nyx’s eyes, and put a hand not holding their side on their shoulder. “Help.” They uttered, as their vision went strange, as their knees simply gave up carrying them, and they collapsed into the spirits waiting arms. 

They fall into step next to Ezra, but it is different now with Nyx's new powers, they have more things to watch, more to take care of and more everything. They want to believe that is the reason they don't notice at first; the reason they don't notice really at all.

Only when they see Ezra, their hands holding in blood on their side, a small ‘Help’ calling to them. It stops their breath. They move quickly to catch Ezra in their arms, holding them close. Arlathan Forest doesn't need or deserve to take Ezra's blood. They should not be another tally in the land's bloody history.

He looks at Protection and the mage who looks so much like her. Protection can see him now, and he’s aware of that. He holds out his hand and presses it to the mage’s wound in a way he can only manage with all of the anger and the injustice and the fear and the blood.

The air is filled with the smell of burnt flesh and blood as the wound is burnt shut and the mage hisses in pain, but cannot pull away.

He stares at Protection for a moment longer. 

The Sun’s servant approaches and his head does not turn but he sees him, and the servant’s clothing ignites and him along with it.

They stare at the other spirit. He looks like Ezra, but not quite. They feel him burn Ezra's wound closed. Rage. He is a kind of rage. The Rage they felt before, an old rage. They are stuck for a second, remembering the Rage that hurt them and lead them to Ezra.

Burning flesh fills the air and brings them back to the here and now. The venatori are burning, this rage is with them. “You've been with them, protecting them, helping them.” They see some of their family coming to them. “We have to get them back to the lighthouse.”

Ezra's mouth fills with ash and that they are conscious enough to know it doesn't come from Nyx. They turn to see their own face, or- sort of their face? A younger face staring at them silently.

Gratitude/Appreciation/Thanks

They feel warm, but also cold as they see Beck and Kalais and Del approach. 

They feel tired but they know it's not- true tiredness and that they cannot sleep here.

He nods to Protection and steps back to where he can be felt but not seen. It’s easier this way. He would rather see than be seen.

He will follow the Protection Who Is Not His Servant and the Mage Who Is Not Her as he always has.

They Mage Who Is Not Her has Protection and does not need him now, but- he is, it is not that he is needed. It is that he wants-