First of all I must deal with something and get it off my chest. Also if your name isn't John this does not concern you so feel free to start the story :) unless you want to see me angry then read on. This is meant only for "John" this is not aimed at ANYONE else besides him.

Dear John, You my good sir I have everything planned out to this point. And if you could grow a pair of balls and use a real account so I can pm you instead of making this public. Also taking this down… no you're just being a douche bag and I know people are enjoying this story. Also there is a reason this is called fanFICTION!

John I apologize for the part I deleted those were not my words. My younger brother reads this story and got a hold of my laptop password and decided to give his contribution to this chapter. I am sorry that this happened I don't give threats to my reviewers no matter how much they deserve it but I feel horrible that I posted that and didn't know about it.

*Clear's throat* Thanks to all that have givenencouragement and constructive criticism. You know who you guys are! Give yourselves a hand :)

Chapter 6

"Yes, swooping is bad…" Alistair said in a low tone, eyes narrowed. He probably had meant it only for his ears but it seemed that had failed as the woman golden eyes narrowed at him, "Cute…" She stated with an undertone of disgust in her tone.

Night wished Alistair would learn to shut up. She could sense that this woman was dangerous. She could sense that this woman commanded powerful and ancient magic that could match Night's spells. But as it stood at this time this Witch of The Wild's- as Daveth had called her- had yet to unlock this power.

"You there," the witch said and turned her attention to Night, "Women do not scare like little boys. You tell me your name I shall tell you mine."

"You may call me Night," the witch's eyes narrowed at her; they held questions. The witch probably could tell that she would get no answers.

"See, t'was that so hard?" she asked, "And you may call me Morrigan, if you wish."

"We shouldn't be talkin' to her she'll turn us to toads she will," Daveth said with no small amount of fear in his voice.

Night decided to intervene before this could turn into another argument by doing something she would have rather not have done, "It's a pleasure to meet Morrigan."

"It is nice to see that someone has the manners to give a proper greeting, even out here in the Wilds, Morrigan said, seemingly forgetting Daveth's comment, "So what brings four armed intruders into my Wild's. Scavenger's perhaps? Come to pick at the bones of those long dead?"

Before Night could answer Alistair decided he wasn't ready to stop making a fool of himself, "We are Grey Warden's and we came for the contents of that chest. There were scrolls in there that are Grey Warden property I suggest that you return whatever you found in it."

"Invoke a name that means nothing here if you wish, I am not scared," Morrigan said as she turned away from them and leaned against a wall over grown with moss staring out into the mist covered swamp, "What makes you sure that I was the one to take what was held in that chest. It has been left unattended for many years."

"Because… umm," Alistair started but seemed to find no good explanation; that didn't stop him from finishing though, "You're a... sneaky… witch thief."

Night sighed in frustration, By the void he needs to learn to shut up.

"How very eloquent, but it t'was not I who took your precious scrolls," Morrigan said in an uninterested tone as she stared off into the foggy swamp.

"Then I suggest that you tell us who took them or el…" Alistair started but Morrigan.

"Making empty threats now? T'would not serve you best right now," She warned, turning back to them wearing an angry expression.

"Then can you tell us who took them?" Night cut in.

"T'was my mother," Morrigan stated and folded her arms.

"Your mother?"

"Yes my mother. Did you think I was born to a log?" Morrigan asked sarcastically.

"A sneaky, magical… witch spawning log!" Alistair exclaimed.

Morrigan completely ignored him, "I can take you to her if that would please you."

"We would appreciate it Morrigan," Night replied hurriedly before any one could say something stupid.

"Follow me then. I shall take you to her," Morrigan turned away from them and started down the hill the ancient ruin sat on.

The group quickly following after her, "This is a bad idea! She will throw us in the pot!"

Jory finally decided to speak up, "If the pot is warmer than this swamp it would pleasant change."


"Thank you for returning the treaties Flemeth," Night said with no determinable emotion. She handed the three ornate brass scrolls off to Alistair, wanting to get rid of the touch of the magic the older witch had enchanted them with. It clung to her skin and could feel it drawn power from her magicka reserves, which were dangerously low already.

"Such manners! Always in the last place you look!" the older mage exclaimed, but her wrinkled brow scrunched up in thought, "Just like stalkers."

Night looked at the witch that stood in front of her and she was at a quandary. Here stood a frail old woman that looked like if she fell over she would shatter her hip and had lost much of her mind. But what all other senses besides sight told her was completely different. She could sense the amazing power this woman could wield; great than that of her daughter and Night.

When the elder witch spoke Night could hear… something else speaking alongside her voice. She knew that no one else could hear it. It was deep growly voice that spoke in unison with her. It was not discernible it was male or female. If Night had to compare it to anything else she had heard before in her long life span it would be a daedra.

Even her scent was off. This witch,was nothing like Night had fought, killed, or met before. She had to be ancient, older than Night even. It had to have to do something with why everyone had been scared of following Morrigan back.

"Well your off then," Morrigan stated to no one in particular as she started to turn to walk into the hut behind her.

"Morrigan where do you think you are going?" the other witch called out to her daughter, "These are your guest's. It's rude not to walk your guest out."

Morrigan turned back towards the group. She rolled her eyes and scoffed, "Fine! I will lead them out of the swamp. Follow me," Morrigan said with frustration in her tone as she pushed past Night and Alistair.


"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you," Alistair's words echoed in Night's mind as she brought the goblet to her lips.

The results were almost instant as the tainted blood slipped past her lips and down her throat…


Night found her standing a nightmarish dreamscape. A sickly green mist swirled around the twisted weird and twisted rocky formations that formed the land. She tried walking but found her body unwilling to obey her. She started to feel panic rise in up into her chest as she fought frantically to make her body listen to her.

That's when she heard it. A loud terrible roar; it shook the very ground she was standing on. Night heard the beats of large wings and instinctively knew there was only one creature on the face of this entire world. Moments she saw the shaking of the ground as It appeared in front of her. A dragon; not like any dragon Night had encountered before; its scales were black, dripping with tainted blood. Boney spikes shot out from its back, chest, and shoulders.

Its wings held three scythe like appendages at the end of each bone keeping that would keep the leather wings opened while in flight. It gave the image of hands; sick twisted wings.

She felt pure fear run through her body as it brought head up in the let out a guttural roar, much like a wolf would howl at the moon. No words were spoken in dragonish. It brought its head level with Nights face; milky white's eyes staring into defiant orange.

"Dovahkiin!" It said in a deep twisted voice that shook the entire dreamscape.

That's when pain unlike Night had ever experienced before in her over a century of life-time. She collapsed onto the ground as the dragon let loose purple flames into the sky.


As the pain that radiated in her body slowly ebbed away Night opened her eyes to see to familiar faces; which she was grateful for. She might not like or enjoy Duncan's or Alistair's but she was happy to know she was out of that nightmare and back into the real world, away from that dragon.

Alistair offered a hand to help Night up which she took. She stood up with Alistair's help, "How are you feeling?" Alistair asked quietly.

"It's over, I'm fine," Night lied. Her entire body felt as if she had been slammed by a giant's war club… then thrown off the Throat of The World. Duncan and Alistair said a continued speaking to her but she didn't listen to a single word, she just nodded when she thought it was appropriate. She was more focused on trying to block out the pain.

"Here," Alistair said as he dropped something into Night's hand, "It's a memento for the joining," Night looked down and saw a simple silver chain holding a small vial filled with dark black blood that ran through the darkspawn veins, "It's to help remember those who did not make it through."

Night slipped it through her hood an around her neck alongside with the Amulet's of Bats and Gargoyle. She held the amulet in the palm of her hand and looked down at the small vial before tucking it into her armor.

"Night," Duncan's voice brought Night back to the world around her, "I would like you to accompany me to a meeting with the king?"

She raised an eyebrow but decided not to question him, "I will be there."

"Okay. Take a few minutes to yourself," Duncan stated. She was glad for that; she had some business with someone in the camp…


"Maybe we should wait for the reinforcements Orlais has promised us," Calian said with a sarcastic tone.

"It is foolish to think that we need the help of those who enslaved for nearly a century to defend our borders," An older man stated with anger flowing out of his voice and fire in his eyes. This man stood in front of Calian looking down at him like a father might look at his son who had been a complete disappointment his entire life.

He wore a type of armor Night had yet to encounter in Skyrim or Tamriel. It was hammered out of a metal Night hadn't seen before in her travels. But she could recognize one thing about the armor; it was a construction for war and only war. There were no ornate stampings or, no heraldry painted.

His armor was made for war and only war. It was made to save the wearer`s life from sword blows and arrows. It was unlike Calian`s which was meant to, as well as safeguard his life, to show off his status as King, gold leafed armor tended to do that.

"Our disagreements with Orlais are thing of the past!" Cailian exclaimed as he brought his hand down loudly onto the table in front of him, "And you, Teryn Loghain, will remember who is king."

"I'm glad that Maric didn't live to see his son ready to hand of his country back to the Orlesians," Loghain said to himself as he turned away from the strategy table.

"Then our current forces will have to suffice!" Calian said. Loghain said nothing as he turned back to the table. "We need someone to light the signal at the Tower of Ishal," Calian stated.

"I have a few men stationed there. They can light it when its time. It is not a dangerous task but it is vital," Loghain said in a calm tone.

"No," Calian shook his head quickly, "This is vital. Duncan, I want you send the new recruit and your junior member to light the signal."

"Of course your Highness," Duncan said.

Night head turned on a swivel towards the men gathered around the table. She had been leaning against a one of the many marble pillars that made up what had been a former chapel; well until recently. She quickly made her way towards the table, "What? I won't be fighting in the battle?" she questioned.

"I need people I know I can trust to light the beacon," Calian said still wearing a childish. This earned him a furious scowl from Loghain. "Your fascination with the Grey Warden's will be your downfall Cailan," He stated solemnly.

Calian turned to Duncan, "I will trust you to inform them with what is needed."

"I will your Highness," Duncan said with a slight bow, "Night we will discuss this further at the Grey Warden's tent."

"Fine," Night said curtly. She wasn't pleased with this turn of events but she followed Duncan back to the tent.


"What!?" Alistair exclaimed, "I won't be fighting in the battle!?" Night had the same feeling. What was the point of recruiting people to fight a mighty battle against an enumerable foe that taints the very land they touch, just to have them light a bloody beacon?

"I agree. We should be fighting in the battle," Night agreed.

"The King gave you both an important task. It is vital that the tower is light, the battle could be lost if it is not lit on time," Duncan stated in a calm tone. From what Night was reading off of Duncan, he had known that this would happen, perhaps even encouraged it. That would not be so hard to believe; Calian was a perfect puppet and Duncan for all his honeyed words and chivalrous attitude could undoubtly

"So he needs two Grey Wardens standing up there holding the torch, just in case right? I swear that if he ask me to dance the remigold that's where I draw the line," Alistair stated in a disgruntled tone, "What will we be doing anyways?"

"You two will be the ones to light the beacon in the Tower of Ishal when Teryn Loghain's men tell you to. I don't have to tell you how important this will be. The entire battle plan hinges on the lighting of the signal, otherwise Loghain will not know when to signal the charge."

"How much time do we have to light the beacon," Night asked.

"The battle is about to commence. When I leave move quickly, you will have less than an hour," Duncan answered her.

"Can we join the battle after the signal's lit?" Alistair jumped in.

"No stay at the tower. Help the men stationed there to guard the tower. We will send word if you are needed."

Night was the next one to ask a question and it probably was the most vital one yet, "What happens if this archdemon appears?"

"We soil our drawers, that what," Alistair sarcastically said but with no hint of humor or mirth visible in his tone or in his facial expression.

"If it does, leave it to us, I do not want any heroics," Duncan eyes passed over both of them, "From either of you."

Off in the distance Night heard the beating of war drums, then a much closer horn. "I must join the King now," Duncan stated and started to turn to leave.

"Duncan," Allistair spoke up causing Duncan to turn his head to face him, "May the Maker protect you."

"May he protect us all."


Thunder cracked and lighting illuminated the sky. For a spilt second time seemed to stop, then rain started falling. It was like some unseen force had started weeping for the battle to come, it was so force full.

"SOD!" Night screamed out as she sprinted across the stone bridge. She had nearly lost her footing several times already because of the massive rocks that buffeted the ancient bridge. The question still stood; where in the void did the Darkspawn acquire siege engines? Apparently from what she had been told by Duncan and Alistair, the darkspawn aren't intelligent enough to forge a proper blade or armor. Anything of quality that the darkspawn wield was scavenged off the battlefield.

Yet they were able to build, load, and fire sometime of siege equipment; it just defied logic. Even if they had somehow managed to scavenge multiple siege weapons how did they learn how to operate them?

Not that Night really cared at this moment, as she jumped forward landing hard on her stomach. 'To close,' she thought to herself. "Night!" Alistair's voice rose above the sounds of battle. She got back to her feet and wiped some of the mud off her armor. Alistair ran up beside her with concern written across his face, "Are you alright?"

"Better than them," Night said as she quickly pointed towards the dead archers that littered the bridge. They had been quite a few more on the bridge before the barrage of flaming stones; they either where knocked off or chose that jumping was a better alternative to living there lives emaciated.

'Surprise!' She thought of the troops down below.

Alistair looked back, his mouth set in a grim line. "I'm fine Alistair," Night answered. No words needed to spoke as they started sprinting towards the Tower.


"Shit," Night hissed as she stared out of the place she had token cover.

"What are darkspawn doing here!? How did they take the Tower?!" Alistair questioned beside her.

"I have no clue. But I do remember you complaining about not getting to fight."

Alistair let out a small chuckle, "This won't be a fight this will be a slaughter… for us."

He was referring to the darkspawn that stood on the two levels in front of the door that led into the inside of the Tower of Ishal. There where at leasta hundred of the monster stood between Alistair and Night and the door way. There were more than even she could kill even with Alistair help.

She didn't see any other ways in either; the closet windows were at least four stories up too high up for her jump up to. She could try to climb up to them but that would be next to impossible in this weather and even if she could make it through the window without getting blown off or spotted by the darkspawn that would leave Alistair completely out of the picture. That wouldn't work either.

"Damn it!" Night cursed.

"We need to let Loghain know that the Tower is lost. He won't know when to charge otherwise," Alistair said.

Night tried to recall the strategy table, "Then we will go find him."


Night ran as fast as she dodged around the trees. It was didn't help that the that hit her eyes that caused her to continually blink to be able to see.

She heard the loud clank of metal behind her and turned to she Alistair on the ground red faced, panting heavily. She started to run towards him before he waved her away, "Go! I'll…catch up…once I… get my… breath… back!" He shouted at her, his words interrupted with large intakes of breath.

She didn't say anything and turned and left him behind quickly. She felt electricity run through her body as she started running, her unholy speed caring her through the forest and mud at no speed a normal mortal could run.


Night heard the clanking of many armor clad bodies and she knew she was close to Loghain. She slowed herself down, but still kept a fast speed as she broke from the cover of the tree line. She was greeted with the sight of a tall man with long salt and peppered hair matted to his face from rain, Loghain.

There was a woman standing beside him. Her ebony hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her armor was of fine make but just like the man beside her there were no fancy embellishments. There was only one shoulder pauldron on her left shoulder; a massive, beautifully made great sword was strapped to her back.

The other woman obviously heard Night's approach as she turned towards the sound, drawing her blade. Loghain put a hand on her shoulder as he looked towards Night. He leaned in and whispered something Night couldn't pick up on but she could guess what it was from the result. The other woman sheathed her blade.

"What are you doing here?" Loghain called out to Night. She quickly sprinted towards him, ignoring the stare from the other woman. "The Tower of Ishal has been overrun by darkspawn," Night stated.

"Overrun!? How did this happen?" The black haired woman nearly yelled.

"Don't know," Night shrugged her shoulders, "Me and Alistair couldn't make it even to the front door."

Loghain ran his hand through his hair, "Ser Cauthrien."

"Yes m'lord?" Cauthrien seemed to perk up like a dog whose master has come home from a long trip.

"Go tell the men to ready up then come back to me," He ordered her. She gave a quick bow before she sprinted away from them into a different forest. "I did not get your name before," He asked Night.

"You may call me Night."

Loghain huffed, "Do you jest?" he asked, but from the flat stare that she gave him he could tell that she was not joking.

"So… Night? You are not of Ferelden blood are you?"

Night crossed her arms, "You like asking questions you already know the answer for don't you?" she countered.

"And you don't respect authority," He countered back.

"From the way you speak to your King the same could be same for. I don't know the traditions of this land and nobility, but from my experience with them, people don't usually treat the leader of their country with the same respect they might show to something the find on the underside of their boot."

"He is king in blood and title, but he is no leader like his father. So I do treat him with the respect he deserves."

"And yet you bend over for him, let him do whatever he pleases and you are the General of his force's."

"Then tell me what I should do," he asked with frustration in his voice, "Do I owe my life, my soul, my allegiance to my country or the King of the country."

Night scoffed at his words, she hated debating with everyone, human, elf, demora, mortal or vampire, "I do not care for any country or king in Nirn; I owe no loyalty to them. My family is all that matters to me they are the ones that I'll die for."

"At least you are honest. But if you have no loyalty to any of this land you only kill because you are told," said with a fire that made Night shiver. His stare, his appearance, the height difference causing her to have to tilt her head up quite a bit to just meet his eye's-now that she actually could get a good look at him- made her chest tighten in instinctive fear. He looked so much like her father, 'He's not your father, Night he's dead.' She told herself and summoned courage from that knowledge and tried pushing the terror down.

"You are honest at least, if nothing else. But if you don't fight for anything in this land than I fear than you kill only because Duncan tells you."

Night smirked under her mask, "That coming from soldier. A fancy soldier, important soldier at that, but soldier's kill because that is what they are told to do."

"No that is not what a soldier does girl," Loghain stated in a matter of fact tone, "There is a very large difference between the two. One is willing to sacrifice to sacrifice anything for their cause. A soldier is willing to give everything for their ideal. The killer is nothing like a soldier."

Night hoped her next comment would through Loghain off balance, "At least I get paid better than the soldier."

Loghain's brow furled in confusion, but after a few moments his face changed from confusion to recognition at her words. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped as he looked past her. The clanking of metal announced Ser Cauthrien, "M'lord," she crossed her forearms across her chest and gave a bow.

"The men are ready to move?" Loghain asked her as Ser Cauthrien walked past her, completely ignoring Night's presence.

"They are my Teryn," Cauthrien she said respectfully, "They await your order."

Loghain turned away from both of them and looked out across the perch the three of them towards the Tower of Ishal, which was barely visible because of the weather. "Where is the other Warden?" Loghain questioned.

"He should be catching up to me anytime now. We split up in the forest somewhere. He had to catch his breath," Night stated simply. That was something that amazed her still. Even not running her fastest he had been able keep up with her while wearing full splinter mail, through mud and thick undergrowth.

Night started to walk beside the Teryn, but stopped when the Teryn turned around to face her, "I'm sorry for what I have to do. Please know that I take no pleasure in what must happen," Loghain said as started walking towards Night.

Night didn't know what he meant at first, but when she realized what he meant she quickly tried to scramble for her blades. But that was too late as he quickly filled the gap between himself and her. He unsheathed his sword and thrust it towards her heart. She had enough time to grip the flat of each side sword between her hands, mere centimeter away from her heart. The sword bit into her gloves, splitting the hard leather and soft skin.

She started to push the blade back from her heart before two hands grabbed her arms and pulled them away from the blade. This caused the blade to veer off, only slicing through the armor and flesh under her breast. Ser Cauthrien started to pull Night backwards, but the knight didn't expect Night to head butt her.

There was a wet crunch as Ser Cauthrien released Night arms and stumbled backwards grip her nose in pain. Blood poured down her face as she fell to her knees in pain.

This gave Night enough time to draw the Blade of Woe, not that it mattered much as Loghain brought his armoured fist square against her jaw. She felt something in her jaw snap as she fell down to the muddy ground below her. She landed face first into the mud. It splashed against her eyes and mask as she hit the ground.

Night felt the right side of her jaw hang weakly as she got to her hands and knees. She tried wiping the mud from her eye's which only succeeded smearing it across her face. She pulled the cloth that covered her mouth down to her neck, finding it hard to breathe through the wet and muddy fabric.

"I will not let Calian's foolish search for glory weaken this country from her true enemy's," Loghain voice boomed. Night felt the tip of a sword on her back, thunder boomed and lightning jumped across the sky as Loghain drove the blade through her chest. She fell to the ground as the blade drove through her body. He pulled the blade free and drove it through her once again.

She attempted to spit the blood that pooled in her mouth, but it only sputtered out weakly through her broken jaw.

"What about the other Warden," Cauthrien's muffled voice spoke up.

"Leave him. He won't be an issue… if the darkspawn don't kill him first," Loghain stated coldly.

Night could hear the steps of two armored feet slowly disappear off into the distance.

She didn't know how long she had been laying there in the cold mud but it felt like an eternity. She grew weaker and weaker every moment that passed. She had used the last of her strength to prop herself up against a tree. It gave a magnificent view of the battle.

As she sat there she tried her best to block out the pain but it was shaper than any blade she had ever wielded. The only comfort that came from this entire situation was that she would finally be in the void. She felt tired, so very tired, 'What could sleeping hurt?' At that she closed her eye's

It was the foot step of two people running in her direction. If her heart still beat, it would probably be pounding its way out of her chest. But the thing was only one of them was wearing armor. The other just padded across the much silently. She tried to open her eyes or even move but the blood that had kept her alive for over a century was to low.

"NIGHT!" Alistair's voice shouted. 'Of course. Can't let me die peacefully could you?' she thought to herself darkly. That answered one question, but who was the other. "Quiet down fool," a familiar female voice hissed, "T'would seem that you wished to announce your presence to your fellow warden's would be murder's."

'Morrigan,' Night thought, 'What is she doing here?'

She felt the presence of the two near her, "She's not breathing," Alistair voiced was full of concern and what sounded like sorrow.

"She live yet do not worry," Morrigan stated matter-of-factly.

"How do you know? She's not BREATHING!" He yelled back at her.

"AND she lives. If you do not allow me to what I can, she will certainly perish otherwise," Morrigan stated morbidly. Night wanted to tell them that she was still alive but blood loss prevented her from talking.

"What are you doing?!" Alistair hissed.

"I am keeping your friend alive," Morrigan stated, "She has lost a lot of blood, but she will live if we are able to get her back to Mother's hut."

Night felt a strange energy pass through her body. She felt cold, freezing cold. Every part of her body felt as though she had been encased in ice.

"We must hurry. You will carry her," the Witch's voice sounded empty, like it was an echo off the wall of a great cave.

She had the sensation of being lifted before whatever Morrigan did took full effect.


Night found herself standing in an unfamiliar place. She started walking slowly forward and looked around the building she stood in. As she took in her surroundings she noticed that everything was giant, the table, chairs… just everything. Everything in the building was poorly maintained, light shown in from various holes that littered the roof.

A cold draft ran through her body and she had the urge to go to sit down in front of the only source of heat and light. It was a small fire place on one of the walls, the mortar that kept the bricks in place was starting to rot and the bricks threatened to fall at any moment.

Night sat down in front of it without another thought. A hand grasped her hair violently and dragged her backwards, "Stupid lil' girl. Did I tell you that ya' could sit there?" A feared voice boomed. Alcohol and body odor from months of not washing filled her nose

She suddenly recognized the building she was in. It was her childhood home. She fought violently only to find she was nothing but a weak little girl.

She looked over to the corner to see her mother huddled up into the corner scratching at her scabbed and scarred arms. Night eyes pleaded for her to do something, but like every time she had plead with her words or her eyes she sat there in her own little skooma induced world.

The creaking of unoiled hinges opened and light poured through the door way; it was a room she was too familiar with. She stopped fighting know that it would make everything worse. Night was thrown down to the ground and the door slammed violently behind her.


Night shot up from the bed, cover's flying off. She shot panicked looks around her surroundings. The room was small but it held multiple things within it walls. Book cases, drying plants, furs of animals, and the smell of cooking meat wafted through the air.

"So your eye's finally open. Mother will be pleased," A voice called out. Night looked over to the fire place that dominated the wall that faced the bed. There stood the scarcely clad witch Morrigan. Golden eyes watch her with interest.

Night rubbed her temples; she had a killer head ache, "Urr… Yeah, you sound surprised."

"You could say that," Morrigan said as she walked towards Night, "The amount of magic mother used to keep you alive," she shook her head, "T'would kill any human or elf."

Night tucked a stray strand of her snow white her behind her ear she also grabbed the covers to cover up her body from the witch, "I'm special," she stated cheekily.

Morrigan scoffed, "Mother wished to speak to once you awoke. Also if it mean's anything to you, your friend outside is fine."

"My friend," Night asked, her mind still felt cloudy, "Do you mean Alistair?"

"The suspicious, dimwitted one?"

"Yeah that one. Do you see any others?"

Morrigan let out a small chuckle, "Tis true. Your armor and weapons are on the table."

"Thank you Morrigan."

Morrigan looked surprised, "I… you are welcome. Though all I did was change your bandages, I am no healer."

"But you are the one that led Alistair to me, I suspect."

Morrigan didn't say anything, just nodded. Morrigan then turned around and continued to stir whatever was in the cast iron pot that was over the fire.

Night got out of the bed and walked over to table and started putting her armor on. She looked out the single window and saw the bright rays of sun light shining through. She pulled her hood over her head and slipped on her mask-which had been kindly washed she noted.

As she started towards the door she started to remember what happened last night. And then she felt the chaotic emotions that haunted her life. She felt the rage that kept her alive throughout her life surface from Loghain betrayal. She felt the churning of all her emotions at the thought of the thought of herself being too weak to fight Loghain and his lap dog.

The feelings of insecurity, helplessness and chaos of fear and weakness gnaw at her like a starving wolf. Her body cried out for blood her soul cried out for death.

She approached the door that led out of the shack she swore to all god's out there that Loghain would die by her blade.