When Fate Summons (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

One Way or Another

Anawyn held tightly to her friend's shoulders. She tried to feel beneath the skin, to staunch the flow of blood from Cybele's nose and mouth, but there was no sensation, nothing to hold on to or fix.

And then Urthemiel spoke in Cybele's voice. "I ... can't ... get out." The teeth clenched. "Why ... what have ... you done?"

"What are you doing?" Anawyn asked desperately. "You said you were my friend."

"I am!" Urthemiel's eyes were wide in Cybele's face.

"Then why are you doing this to her?"

Blood spattered over Anawyn's face as Cybele sighed heavily. "I told you I had to be free."

"But you didn't tell me you had to kill her to do it," Anawyn said, her voice very small.

From across the field, the exchange between the two girls was finally beginning to draw the adults from their concerns. "What are you doing? Come away from her!" Anawyn turned her head to see Cybele's mother advancing toward them.

"It's not me, it's Urthemiel!" Anawyn said, tears rolling down her face and mingling with Cybele's blood.

Morrigan gasped, taking a stumbling step forward. "Urthemiel?" she said increduously. "How do you know about him?"

"Anawyn, what's going on?" That was her own mother now, her brown eyes confused and worried.

"You weren't there! You don't know ... anything!" Anawyn shouted at them all, clinging to Cybele's shoulders. She could see her friend drooping, her skin paling due to the loss of blood. "He's trapped in there, he's trying to get out! Cybele," she said urgently. "Cybele, don't let this happen!" Anawyn clasped Cybele's hand, feeling the ring on it.

Thora looked at Morrigan. The witch's face was pale. "Morrigan, what's happening here? What can we do to stop this?"

"He ... Urthemiel, the Old God. If he is trying to be free ..."

"What does that mean?" Thora asked urgently.

A tear quivered at the corner of Morrigan's eye, sliding down her cheek. Xandros put a hand on her arm, and she closed her eyes, nearly undone by his silent support.

Alistair drew closer to the circle, reluctant to touch the girls if Morrigan, who seemed to know what was going on, was keeping her distance. But the instinct to protect his daughters was nearly uncontrollable.

"Can't we do something?" Thora asked. "Heal her! Stop the bleeding! Anders!" she called out, looking around for the mage. He left Jens's side to come near, his face paling when he saw the two girls locked together.

"There is nothing to heal. The blood ... He is killing her from the inside out." Tears were rolling unchecked down Morrigan's face now. "We are too late."

"Anawyn, I can't get through," Urthemiel said in Cybele's voice. The head tilted in bewilderment. "This should work—why am I not free?"

"Urthemiel, please, don't do this to her. Please!" Anawyn begged.

"Do you not want me to be free?"

"I don't want you to kill her! She's my friend, my sister! Please, Urthemiel!"

"Ah." Cybele's head nodded. "I see. In that case ..." The sea-blue eyes studied Anawyn, then the face brightened. "You see, all I need is the blood. This does not have to be the vessel." Cybele's hands came up, clamping down on either side of Anawyn's head, their eyes meeting. Anawyn reeled back, clutching her head, shrieking, and Cybele crumpled to the ground.