When they stepped up the stairs to the ruins camp, their collective energy made Strife shift and cross his arms. The others held back as Rook approached the stoic man.

He had all the brooding and self importance of Viago, but, as capable as this revered elf was, Rook couldn’t muster the fear of danger from him. Maybe it made him cocky. Maybe it made it look like bloodlust, never backing down from a fight. Never losing.

They reported on D’Meta’s Crossing.

Met the Witch of the Wilds.

Viago silenced a group of young Crows sharing and scaring the fledglings with tales of The Witch of the Wilds turning an Arainai Crow sent to kill the last of the Wardens. They warned if they didn’t go for the kill in every duel, she would be able to take over their bodies and murder their whole house. Viago made them drink his new poison and they vomited for a week. Viago also made everyone else take the poison, but at lower doses. They only vomited for the rest of the day.

She knew about Solas. She looked into his eyes as if she saw him there in his head. Solas screamed at her in old elven Rook couldn’t understand. He bit the inside of his mouth until he was drinking blood trying to keep the others from noticing how affected he was.

Bellara broke the entanglement. She can repair the Vir'revas.

She said aloud what Rook had been keeping in the depths of his guts. Our Gods Are Back. How DO we stand up to that?

Everyone gasped, expecting the boat to tip, but his acrobatics and finesse barely made a ripple.

“What would that have accomplished? What does this?” Neve took Harding’s help loading into the small boat. “You made us all accomplices to your bloodlust, Crow.”

Rook’s eye widened. “Bloodlust!?”

“That human was instrumental in erasing an entire town, Neve.” Bellara also took Harding’s help.

“I could go back. Invite him to the team. Maybe he would be a better leader.” Rook stood.

Harding shoved him back down and waited for the boat to settle before loading in. The detective grasped at the walls of the boat, desperate to stay out of the water.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Crossing her arms and hoping to look less 'scared cat' and more 'cool cat' she stared over the glassy lake.

“Now I’m ridiculous.” Rook seethed. Varric was wrong. Wrong about everything.

You did what you had to do. Solas’ voice tickled the back of his mind.

“Not the time.” Rook mumbled.

Neve’s eyes snapped at him. But she could sense the weft of blood magic, see the winging on Rook’s face.

“It’s done.” Harding pushed off. “If he has the talent for it, he will survive. If not...”

“A whole town, Neve. People I knew.”

“I get it,” the detective relented. “I shouldn’t call you 'Crow', as if you haven’t a name.”

“It’s not like anyone uses my real name.” Rook pulled his hood over his head, trying to keep Solas out.

“Rook’s not your name?” Bellara watched Rook and Neve in turn hoping someone would clarify.

“It’s a nickname.” Rook sighed. Better than Viago's for him, he supposed.

“Varric gave it to him when we first picked him up. Because a rook is a young Crow?” Harding couldn’t quite recall.

“Who’s Varric?” Bellara stunned them all.

Harding hid her face in the shadow of the growing night. Neve watched Rook for how to proceed.

“Varric Tethras. Rook, Scout, Slick.” Rook pointed at the owner as he named them.

“The author?” Bellara knew is books.

A pang in his head stopped him from saying more. Somehow over the water the connection to the Fade was easier. Solas was trying to find information. Rook was trying to keep him out.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry.”