Spellbound

11. Nightmares

Lavellan had another nightmare. This one was crueller than the last, more graphic in the horrendous images it threw at him.

He was in a basement, just like the one under Dorian's home. Chains led from his chafed wrists to the floor and kept him seated on the cold and hard ground.

Something lurked in the shadows, something with red, glowing eyes and a branding iron in its hands. It glowed orange from heat as it itched to connect with Lavellan's skin.

Lavellan was sweaty. No matter how much he tried to free his wrists, he couldn't do it. The cuffs never budged, only tightened as terror restricted him to his dream.

"You are afraid of him leaving a scar on you. No, not a scar. Something that will mark you, but it isn't visible. The man who has captured you is no demon."

The voice was gentle, understanding, and it didn't match the growling from the creature in the corner. Lavellan whipped his head around, but he found nobody. Just shadows and the threat of pain greeted him.

"What the other elf told you scared you, but Dorian won't do the same to you. I watched him for a long time. He wouldn't cause you pain. Although this is a dream, a lot can happen here. You might symbolise even the slightest touch with this iron."

"Who are you?!" Lavellan gasped out. His throat was parched from the heat in the stuffy air. In his distraction, he forgot about the demon as he searched for the faceless voice. It seemed disruptive in his dream, as if not he had conjured it, but someone else. Was he losing his mind? Or had a mage taken possession of him in his sleep?

"We met before. I am Cole, the one who talked to you when you got taken away from the Emerald Graves. You are in distress again, so I came to offer my help. I wish to soothe you. Your agony shouted at me until I couldn't sleep anymore, but you don't deserve this suffering."

This time, when Lavellan turned his head, a boy stood by his side. Small, only as tall as an elf, but an adult. An enormous hat with a wide brim hid his features from view, but Lavellan could spot some overgrown blond hair peeking under it to hang into his haggard face. Hollow cheeks that were as pale as those of a corpse loomed in the shadows.

"What are you and what do you want?" Lavellan lowered his voice to sound as threatening as possible over his fear.

"I'm a spirit of empathy, or so I have been told. I have a friend among Dorian's friends. When I saw you suffering on your way here, I told him to help you. The Iron Bull deemed it a good idea to free you by giving you to Dorian. But now you are afraid of Dorian. I didn't think you would be. Was it a mistake to bring you here?"

A spirit of empathy? Lavellan had never heard of something of the like. While he knew about spirits, he doubted their cause was to help people. They usually wreaked havoc, stole and tortured, hence the alternative name for them. Demon.

"You brought me here?"

"I tried to make the best of your situation. But I couldn't stop the evil men from taking you. I'm sorry."

Overwhelmed, Lavellan glanced at the shadow in the corner. Like rubies, its red eyes bore into him. It wavered in its place as if afraid to approach while Cole was by his side.

"Thank you, I think."

"You're welcome. Can I help you again? I can talk to my friend and he can talk to Dorian if you are scared. Or you stay away from Dorian. Even though I always found him kind. His heart is full of love, and he answers my questions."

Was this real? If so, how much of it? Had Dorian possessed Lavellan's mind after all and tried to convince him of his positive aspects? No, this Cole persona didn't sound shrewd enough for him. And he was right; Lavellan recognised his voice from his dreams during the journey, long before he had met Dorian. He felt ages had passed since then.