"Exhausting us the day before the battle," questioned another. "To what end?"

"We're to do our best to ascertain the threat and see if we can find sign of the archdemon. They're convinced it's a true Blight."

"Wouldn't we have heard about a dragon gallivating around?"

Uldred snorted. "You'd think. Still, the king commands us, so we do it. He's to arrive in the morning and he'll find us obedient, lest we spend the rest of his rule locked away in Kinloch."

Aware that she was well below the rank of a mage who should be privy to such details, she tried to back out when Wynne rejoined her near the tent's entrance.

"Wynne," Uldred called, stopping them both. "You'll have command of the camp tomorrow."

"As you wish." She bowed her head. "In the meantime, you know where to find me."

The other mage waved her away dismissively, and Wynne shared a tight smile with her fellow healer before they left. Once they were back in the apothecary, Elona let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. Of all the senior enchanters, Uldred put her most on edge; his eyes had a look that haunted her, a look that had told her he had seen too much.

"Isn't he your junior?" She blurted out before she could think better of it.

Rarely offended, Wynne simply chuckled. "Uldred doesn't believe anyone is his junior."

"Surely the First Enchanter—"

"It's best to keep that opinion between us," Wynne cautioned. "Now, tell me about this handsome lad that came calling."

Elona flushed as she tied back her hair and began to roll up her sleeves, preparing to get back to work. "He's my brother. I know I shouldn't…"

As she chewed on the inside of her cheek, Wynne simply began to cut down the dried stalks of elfroot. "Arran or Fergus?"

For a moment the younger mage's mouth hung open; she had expected a lecture, but so much had changed in their relationship once she was no longer an apprentice. "Fergus."

"And the rest of the Couslands?"

"Arriving tomorrow," she explained. "They were delayed by one of my father's friends, Howe."

"I'm sure I can find some errands that need running tomorrow afternoon." They split the dried plants between them and began to prepare them in sync. "Family is important, Elona. I know what the Chantry says, but I trust you can retain control of your emotions to weather a visit? I trust it won't cause any pernicious repercussions?"

"Of course," she said, quickly and firmly. "Thank you, Wynne."

Together they worked in silence for a time before a runner stuck their head into the tent, calling the senior enchanter away. She was able to pack two more crates of potions for the king's camp thanks to the bounty her brother had brought. It had just been a silly excuse to see her, but it would help more than he ever knew. The thought alone brought a smile to her lips, and she said a quiet prayer that his expedition would go well.

“I went to a Harrowing once,” he confessed. “It didn’t go well.”

“Oh,” she breathed the word. “At Kinloch?”

“That poor mage,” Alistair sighed. “I couldn’t imagine watching any more of them; I didn’t have much interest in being a templar after that.”

For a moment she hesitated, but then she laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”

He startled a little and she jerked her hand back. When he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at her, she wondered if she should leave. “I tried to forget most of that night, but one thing I do remember - aside from the blood and the burning hair - was a mage who put her hand on my arm while I was hyperventilating.”

Her mouth fell open in surprise. “I had to use magic to calm you.”

“And then you dealt with the Knight-Recruit that actually got hurt.”

“Cullen,” she nodded. “His whole arm was…It took a long time to heal.”

“Wow,” Alistair laughed. “Small world.”

She smiled and looked back up at the stars. The night replayed in her mind - her heart racing as she rushed up the endless stairs of the Circle still half-asleep, the foul smell of burning that wafted from the Harrowing chamber and churned her stomach, sounds of agony hurrying her steps as she looked over the templars who had already staggered down the stairs, the haunted look in his eyes as he'd been in the midst of a panic attack - and she'd always wondered what had happened to him. Cullen had been assigned to Kinloch, but the other templar had disappeared.

“Do you ever wonder–”

Her voice filled the quiet library, startling the templar that sat near her. The Knight-Recruits were usually given night patrols - probably because the older templars couldn’t be bothered - and in the past that had meant it was too risky to visit the library then; the recruits were still young, given to youthful urges and iniquities of the flesh, the Chantry sisters would say. Mages knew to protect themselves. But Cullen had been different–quiet, gentle, serious. It was safe to curl up in a blanket in a corner of the library on nights she couldn’t sleep as long as he was the one patrolling.

When she looked up from her book at him - a romance novel one of the new apprentices had smuggled in and hidden amongst the histories - she started to second guess her question. It was something she would ask Arran or Neria, so she had just started to blurt it out. She considered Cullen a friend, but he was still a templar.

“Sorry, it’s silly,” she deflected. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You can ask me anything,” he assured her, “even something silly.”

Candlelight flickered through his earnest gaze, the fire casting shadows over the patchy stubble he had begun to grow. If she didn’t ask something, he would be disappointed. She hated disappointing people.

“It’s just…” She pushed strands of hair that escaped her messy bun behind her ear as she turned more toward him. “Well, my father told me once that the Maker creates someone for everyone–a perfect match. Do you ever wonder if it’s possible to find them when you’re somewhere like this?”

At first he only gaped at her, and she laughed softly and shook her head. “I told you it was silly.”

“N-no,” he managed, and when he ducked his head, his blonde curls fell onto his brow. “I mean–no, it isn’t silly, to wonder about that… If, well, the Maker does create someone for everyone, then He would know where to send them so you could find them. Probably, um, even here.”

Even though he couldn’t meet her eyes, she smiled. “You’re right. I’ll remember to have faith in His plan.”

For a time she had been reassured by his words, and eventually it became easier to ignore the need to belong to someone by belonging to something. Love became a small splinter in her skin, something she could ignore by turning her mind to another topic. The Maker had given her magic, and helping others was a bandage she pressed over it.

For some reason her chest ached when she thought about the incredible coincidence that had unfolded. They'd been brought back together, their paths overlapping once again. When she glanced back at him, she caught him watching her and his resulting smile was equal parts shy and intrigued.

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