Alistair took shelter at the base of the Hidden Stairway, which wasn't far from an abandoned Inquisition camp.

  He sat with his back propped up against the cold rock wall and watched the dark sky that was sparse of starlight. Shrieks and cries from beasts could be heard above and below. The stenches of sulfur and sweet-bitter poisons from the canyon valleys were stronger, but not so much they could harm.

  His mind recapped his recent events.

  The Venatori and their ability to recreate versions of fade rifts were both impressive and terrifying. They obviously hadn't been idle after Corypheus's defeat. Then there was Hawke and Iron Bull being in the area. They were either a magnet for trouble or up to no good. The Inquisition did some good in stopping an evil magister god-monster from destroying the world, but they ended up like all the other good organizations that became corrupt. They were no different from the Grey Wardens who were so obsessed with blights they nearly destroyed themselves with blood magic.

  "And yet the Inquisitor stupidly acquired them into his order." He shook his head at the fact.

  "Inquisition. They're all the same. Another organization that stabs you in the back and plays with people like they're things." A silky voice slipped into his ears to penetrate his thoughts.

  He groaned at the dark voice that had followed him around for years like an itch that couldn't be scratched away.

  "Demon. You keep trying and keep just being a thought. I recommend you give up attempts of bodily possession."

  "What is a thought but a shared connection of fate? We are fated whether you like it or not."

  "Fate." He laughed bitterly. "That's just an excuse to mask selfish actions with a cause."

  "It is more than that, dear Warden. It is the cause and effect of grandeur. Fate is the law by which actions from giants don't kill all ants beneath their feet. And it is our connection. Just as the blight is for darkspawns"

  Alistair cast a dispel spell over himself to put the demon to sleep. He then fell asleep himself.

  His mind slipped into old memories he hadn't dreamt about for years. The Calling tended to numb all other visions out of the brain. So a good night's rest was with a dreamless sleep.

  As he wandered his memories, he felt emotions and sides of himself he had long thought gone.

  One memory made his internal energies a chaotic mess as he saw himself talking to Kiran Tabris for the first time at Ostagar.

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  "You're Duncan's new recruit."

  Alistair eyed the young, lean and handsome elf with short dark hair and calm green eyes with interest. Especially the way he observed him with mild curiosity and caution. He didn't want to judge an elf on their stereotype but seeing the studded leather armor well-fitted to Kiran's toned body made him think that he wasn't a stranger to scraps and roguish trouble.

  "I saw you have a strange conversation with that human." Kiran responded with his blunt observations. The way he said it came across as childish curiosity and unoffensive. It was the moment Alistair thought he was a man who could make a difference.

  His memories chopped and changed to other experiences with Kiran.

  Greeting King Bhelen to saving the Ferelden Circle Enchanter from abominations. Throughout all their horrific and heroic adventures, Kiran never changed to please people but was always cautious for reactions. It's what made him likable even to someone as prideful and irritable as Morrigan.

  His memories cycled through events and stopped on a moment when he saw Kiran and Morrigan share an intimate conversation at her campfire. It was obvious they were in love with each other by their gestures.

  Alistair would have also thought of her as a gorgeous woman with dark flowing hair to soften her angelic features and with slender curves and a busty chest well hidden within her mage robes of an eccentric style. Fortunately, he had the sense to know better.

  But the snippets he heard from their talk were hardly romantic.

  "They're all the same: looking out for themselves. Only the stupid blindly follow orders." Morrigan commented, not caring if her words came across as blunt.

  Kiran soberly nodded as he stared at the fire. "It seems to be that way."

  It was the first time he had heard the man agree with a viewpoint that was less desirable and it made him seem less predictable.

  The memory changed to the image of the current Inquisitor's face and hearing about his victory at Adamant from one of his peers after they had recovered from the battle.

  Another powerful elf no different from Kiran. He was starting to understand why humans distrusted their kind and why there was so much hate for them. He hated that this elf made others believe he was a righteous man when he was leading them into darkness and danger like moths to flames. This hatred burned so deep within him that it made him hate himself more.

  "The Inquisitor is a good man. He stopped Clarel's madness and saved us. I can never be more grateful."

  Alistair could only nod at his peer's naive opinion. He certainly couldn't say what he thought at that time. But Lavellan defeated the nightmare demon, which made the false callings. So he would give him that. The Calling went back to being the manageable small humming bug in his head.

  "Small bug. Yes, that is what the Calling truly is. Just like what you've revealed in your heart: that anger and hatred that makes you. Without it you're nothing." Morrigan's sickly velvety voice laughed triumphantly in his ears.

  "I'm... nothing. LIES!" Alistair's words flowed out of his physical mouth like he was chanting holy scriptures.

  It was suddenly unbearably hot like his clothes were catching fire.

  He woke to the crackling of roaring flames and the stench of burnt corpses. The entire canyon valley below was being overrun with magical fire. Hovering in the sky before him was the face of his stalker: the orangey head of a rage demon.

  Cries of anguish and pain rushed into his ears, disrupting his spirit to weaken him. He sensed the desperate rush of boots headed to where he rested. But he couldn't stop or warn them for his body had been taken over.