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The last thing he remembered was feeling the air shift behind him, just before he lost his footing. Just before he stumbled, tried to grab at the fading walkway, and met Winter's wide, panicked eyes. And then the final thing. The thing he honestly didn't recall much of at all, save for an oppressive heat washing over him in the last moments of his consciousness… The Fall.

But, even though he expected that to be the end, even though he accepted that-

"Ohhhhhhhhgnnnn." He groaned as he came around to a sun peeking down on him through the scattered leaves of towering trees. Laying spread-eagle, he groaned, "Oh, everything hurts."

No one answered, of course, and after a few more moments everything came back to. Everything that had happened, what he'd done- He shot up, pressing a hand against his aching side, and pushed himself up on shaky legs. Above him, the tree-limbs were broken, just a bit, and leaves and sticks surrounded him on all sides.

"So," he sighed, "I crashed through. But how did I survive…"

Maybe his Aura had taken it? But that shouldn't have been possible when he wasn't conscious. And, when he tried, he felt it flicker to life. It was weakened, only a hair above where he'd felt it in the fight in the In Between, but still there. So either he had survived it on his own, or his Aura had stopped it on its own, somehow, and he'd recovered after falling. Recovered to almost exactly where it had been before he'd fallen at all.

And it didn't explain why he was so sore…

"It doesn't matter." He finally decided, fishing out his Scroll. It was still charged, and worked in spite of the crack in its screen, but it didn't have a connection. And, when he had it ping and map out his local environment, it only showed hilly trees. Which was, "Awesome. Super useful. Ugh…"

He found his shield a few yards away, partially embedded into the soil, and…

And what was left of Crocea Mors, too. A couple yards in another direction. Still wet from-

He shook it off and knelt, stabbing it into the ground to get rid of the worst of it and then pulling out the rag from his sharpening kit. And a small hammer. Wiping it clean, and rinsing with a bit of water from one of his bottles - this was a temperate enough area he expected to find more easily, and had cleaning tablets - he used the hammer to chip away some of the ragged edge so it could stay a proper cutting tool and collapsed his shield, sheathing the just under half a sword that was left.

"Compass was working at least." He sighed, turning and shaking his head. "Let's hope the others remember to head south…"

And there was somewhere that they'd see his smoke signals from.

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By the end of the first day without either a clearing or any sign of any of the others, Jaune was annoyed, but resigned to deal with it. After what he'd done, he figured he was due at least a little bit of fatigue and isolation. By the second day's end, though, he was more concerned. He'd been walking miles, now, and hadn't seen anything. No farms, no villages or villages, no signals from the others or from anyone with a Scroll at all that he could ping for a message request. or outposts or forts.

Just… The woods.

"It's not right…" He muttered that evening, sitting at the edge of a little ridge over a wide but shallow creek while he watched the haphazard fish trap he'd thrown together to try and bolster his rations. His fire crackled behind him, warming his back as he turned a look on his Scroll.

The local map wasn't anything the basic map or the Atlesian one recognized enough to guess his region, even after all the scans he'd taken on his walk. It wanted to say Southern Mistral but when he checked out the plants, none of them fit. And, sure, he wasn't an expert but… He'd spent enough time in Southern Mistral to recognize a few things, and had some more info he'd downloaded onto his Scroll when they got to Argus, too, because he thought it would be useful.

"But not only Mistral…" He muttered, holding up a flower he'd picked by the river. It was a pretty blue, with a bell shape and purplish protrusions, but he knew it wasn't rare. There were dozens just from where he could see. So, "Not a chance my guides just happen to not have you…"

Or any of the other flowers he'd chanced across. Odd nuts, bushes, and berries all growing on plants he didn't recognize. And, like what he was pretty sure by taste and look were raspberries, on the wrong continent if this were Mistral. He'd found a tree with apples on it, sure, but even that had been an odd tree. Shorter, wider, with darker leaves than his book said any of the Mistrali apple trees had.

"It doesn't make any sense at all…" He sighed, looking up at the cloud-spattered sky and watching them drift by. "Where am I?"

A splash caught his attention and he turned, spotted the fish trying to break out of his trap and flailed to get up and reach it first.

Even it didn't quite look right… Or rather, not for Mistral. It was a highland Salmon, or close enough to one aside from having the wrong fins. But highland Salmon were only in Northern Mistral, up towards Argus, and in Northern Vale and Southern Atlas.

Nothing made sense. Not the fish, or the fruit, or the trees, or the map, or what had happened to Penny-

"Stop it." He snapped, clutching the side of his head and growling as he dropped onto the ground beside his fire and laid the dead fish out on the rock he'd washed off for the work. "Focus. Fish, sleep, then…"

Then what, exactly?

"Keep walking." He answered no one, "Find the others. Figure out what to do next."

If they were alive…

"They were last time I saw them."

They Fell, though. Just like-

"I survived, so they survived." He snapped, skinning the fish and shaking the thoughts off. "They have to have survived, too…"

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He woke up early the next day and spent a few hours cooking and packing another fish he'd caught in the night. It was long, thin and had a tall, barbed spine like the Mistralian lake fish from the North, at least according to his book. But had four small fins at the front instead of the two long, tapered ones they had. But, after a moment to make a note of it on his Scroll, he just moved on. It was more than clear by now that wherever he was, he wasn't on Remnant anymore. And while that terrified him, and while he felt crazy for considering it…

He knew the Brothers had to have gone somewhere. Who was to say this wasn't their new world and he hadn't just fallen into it?

"Don't fall…" He sighed as he watched the water boil and carefully picked up the insulated metal bottle he'd gotten from Atlas. Setting it aside, he got to work on burying the firepit and the fish remains like he always did and growled. "Because that is a good enough warning. Thanks, Ruby…"

He regretted the words as soon as he said them but couldn't do more than turned and hurl a rock away for his frustration.

"Damn it." He sighed, then screamed, "Damn it!"

"You're a rather loud one. Aren't you, young Ser?" He spun, kicking up dirt as he did, and met the gaze of a dark-skinned man in silver armor with long, layered cloth protectors hanging from his waist. He had a pair of swords on his back but made a point of keeping his hands visible, palms towards Jaune, while he smiled and said, "At ease. If I wanted to harm you I would not have announced my presence."

"Fair…" Jaune sighed, relaxing and then grimacing. "And… I'm just frustrated. The last few days have been a lot."

"For many, I know." He nodded, gesturing at the buried fire and smiling. "May I sit?"

"It's not going to offer much warmth…"

"I know." He nodded, "I am merely being polite. It is rare to meet someone in the Wilds. Much less someone armed as you are. Unless they mean harm, that is."

"I don't." He snapped, turning and, after a breath, sighing. "I don't mean harm to anyone, now. Sit, if you life. I can restart the fire. You… Look like you've been walking for a while."

"That would be very kind of you." The man grunted, taking a step forward and waving at the leftover pile of sticks, leaves and the one log he had gathered the night before and not burned. "That will sufficed, however. You need not think to gather more."

"Sure." He nodded, using the broken tip of Crocea Mors to dig out the pit again and laying the leaves on the embers. Even having been buried, some smoldered still, and a few gentle breaths and the dry leaves were enough to bring it back. Feeding sticks in slowly, he asked, "What brings you out into… You called this the Wilds?"

"The Korcari Wilds, yes." The man nodded, pulling out a linen packed bit of meat and raising an eyebrow. "You don't know where you are?"

"I don't know much of anything." He grunted, sheathing the broken sword and sighing as he sat back on the ground. "Only that I…" He paused, reconsidered his words and what he should really be telling the stranger, and then finally said, "Only that I woke up out here a few days ago, after a… Battle. And now I'm trying to find, well, people."

"Well, you have succeeded at that, at least." The man chuckled wryly, smiling when Jaune just snorted and shook his head. "You said you were in a battle? Are you one of the soldiers sent to fight the Darkspawn?"

"I'm no soldier," Jaune grunted, "and… Darkspawn? You mean Grimm?"

"I do not." The man answered flatly, eyes narrowing in… Suspicion? Thought? Finally, he just asked, "What is a Grimm?"

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"Are you serious?"

"I am ever serious." The man nodded, "Please, describe these… Grimm to me."

"Uh… Well…" He sighed, trying to find the right words and finally shrugging. "Creatures of darkness? Monsters beant on killing every last man, woman and child on Remnant? Horrible, black beasts? Any of this ringing bells?"

"Why would… No." The stranger answered quietly, "Although they sound quite like Darkspawn to me. Ancient creatures of darkness, rising from the bowels of our world to ravage it until they or we are all dead and gone. They are what brings me out here, in fact."

"Oh…?"

"I have heard… Rumors." The man answered quietly, turning his gaze skyward and frowning deeply. "Rumors and rumblings. Four villages have been wiped out bordering the Korcari Wilds, where we now sit. I have been to three, and found them burnt but not sacked."

"So, not bandits, probably." Jaune frowned, "That tracks with Grimm, too. Survivors?"

"None." The man answered, "I found the villagers ripped apart where they fell or… In one case, heaped upon a tree, stuck by spears and shafts and nails."

"Gods…" Jaune murmrued, drawing another of those furrow-browed, narrow eyed looks from the man. "You're heading for the fourth, then?"

"No." He shook his head, turning and waving a hand south before saying. "It lays further south than I am heading. I am heading to a smaller village north of it, along the arc of the savaging. I have confirmed my fears. My hope, now, is that I may reach them and see them safely away."

"Why not defend it?"

"A mere village cannot resist what I believe is coming." He frowned and, when Jaune waved for him to explain, he rumbled. "I believe a Blight is upon us. A wash of Darkspawn unlike anything anyone alive today will have seen. Something which will take even nations decades to ever truly recover from, if it is allowed to reach its end."

"Geez…" Jaune murmured, thinking quickly. The grip of Crocea Mors was a heavy weight in his hand and on his mind. The hilt, and what it had bitten into only days ago… She would already be well on her way to help, however she could.

After what he'd done, mirroring what she would have done was the very least he could do.

Not that it would atone him for any of it…

"How far?"

"Two hours march from here." The man rumbled in answer, gesturing north and then off to the side a bit, enough that Jaune very well may have missed the village on his own route. The man went on before he could think about how bad that could have been, if he wandered into whatever actually made up a Blight without knowing about it, the man went on to ask, "Why do you ask, stranger?"

"Because I'm coming to help."

"Why?" The man asked as he took a large hunk of the meat and ate it, offering Jaune a piece right after.

"I just ate." He waved the man off and sighed, "And… It's my job. Helping people, I mean. You know, protecting them."

"But you are not a soldier?"

"No." He shook his head, "I'm a Huntsman."

"We do not march against deer." The man chuckled, "But somehow, I doubt that wherever you come from deer are such grave threats as to merit plated armor."

"No." He shook his head, "I hunt Grimm."

"Ah." The man hummed, "Then we are more alike than not, all mystery aside, and my instincts were not wrong. Shall we, then, Huntsman?"

"Jaune." He grunted, "Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue and the ladies love it."

"Do they?"

"No." He sighed, "But… Well, it's memorable, isn't it?"

"Indeed." The man nodded and stood, tucking away his meat and inclining his head ever so slightly. "I am Warden Commander Duncan, of the Grey Wardens. And yes, let us go. And quickly. I hope you can keep up, Jaune the Huntsman."

They buried the fire - again - together and Jaune followed the man into the woods with a frown. Not knowing what Grimm or Huntsmen were would normally have made him far too suspicious to go anywhere with him. But… With all the irregularities, all the things that just didn't add up, and just how completely stupid a lie not knowing what Grimm were would be, he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

What was the worst that could happen, anyway?

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'The worst that could happen', as it turned out, was pretty damn terrible.

They reached the village a few hours later but, by then, whatever had been coming for it had already come and gone. And left behind nothing but blood and bodies. But fresh bodies, which lined the wide path that separated the two rows of homes, shops and whatever else they had been before they were left half burned down, crushed, or ransacked. Carts, barrels, crates and all kinds of furniture and other stuff were heaped in smoldering, half burned piles of metal and wood. There were only a few people among them with any kinds of weapons or armor, mostly broken spears, pitchforks, hoes and the like and simple padded leather and cloth. But everyone had died regardless, cut down by…

"Is that a sword…?" Jaune asked, looking at the armless heap of an old woman pinned to the ground by a chipped, gnarly handled sword.

"It is." Duncan rumbled, pacing along beside him with a deep scowl. They stopped by the old woman and he knelt to gently withdraw it, exposing a wicked curve and turning to the knife laying beside her. Nodding at the black sludge on it, he said, "She, at least, gave as good as she got, it would seem."

"Yeah…?"

"Darkspawn blood." Duncan explained, flicking him a look when Jaune knelt to look at it. "Do your… Grimm not bleed?"

"They do, kinda." He shook his head, "Sometimes. But it… Evaporates."

"Evaporates…?"

"Yeah, like… Smoke." He shook his head and, before Duncan could ask, added, "And no, I don't know why, or how. I just know that I stab them, or N-" He took his breath and sighed, "Or one of my friends does, and they die, and they turn to smoke eventually. Ussually just takes a couple minutes. Honestly, I figured that was why we weren't seeing any bodies."

"That is likely just because there were few, and the Darkspawn ate them." Duncan shook his head, "These were simple farmers. Castouts, far from the rest of Ferelden. They would have put up little in terms of a fight, and offered little for the Darkspawn to linger."

"They eat each other…?"

"Darkspawn will eat almost anything," Duncan sighed, "so long as it's meat."

"Then…" He grimaced, because he hated to ask as he stood and looked around at the scattered bodies and… Bits. Not looking back to Duncan, he asked, "Why didn't they eat everyone?"

As if on cue to answer him, they heard the shrill, piercing scream of a woman and turned as a young woman in bloodied clothes staggered out of a dilapidated house. She was young, barely older than Jaune, and tripped over one of a pile of corpses and stumbled. He and Duncan were already moving even before the squat, grey-ish skinned thing came rushing out, hissing and hefting a blood-stained cleaver that it brought down towards the woman who had curled up into a ball in a desperate attempt to protect herself.

Duncan got to them first, one sword lopping off one of its hands as he stepped by and then lashed out with his right, carving through the back of its neck.

"More in the house!" He snapped, dropping a sword to stoop and grab the woman by an arm to drag her, screaming in fear, away. "Several!"

How the man knew that, Jaune didn't know, but he stepped to the side as Duncan dragged the woman away regardless and then stepped back in, raising his shield as it expanded.

Three more came out, these ones taller and more gaunt than the first. One carried a short spear and the others carried iron hatchets, but they all threw themselves at him regardless. He didn't let them meet him, though, charging and pulsing the Gravity Dust ingrained into his shield to hurl them away with enough force that they crushed into the wall. One snarled as it came up, arm hanging at an angle, but Jaune's broken sword took it in the throat and turned the snarl into a wetter gurgling. The next pushed off the wall and came from the other side, axe coming down from on high, and Jaune caught the blow on his shield, turning to snap a knee into its groin like Pyrrha had shown him long ago. It staggered away and he followed, thrusting the broken blade into its chest.

Unlike Grimm, though, it's armor was made of steel. And though he drove it back, and left a sizeable gash in it, Crocea Mors couldn't punch through in its condition.

Roaring, the monster lashed out with its axe and caught Jaune on the side of the head. It bounced off his Aura, but the creature hit surprisingly hard. Hard enough to actually knock him to the side just a bit. Still, he was fine, and turned with a snarl of his own to drive the broken sword into its throat in a splash of hot, wet, rotten smelling and foul tasting blood that he felt fleck on the skin of his face as the monster threw itself at him, trying to bite him.

He threw it off and spun, hacking and spitting as the other rushed at him and he hurled it away with another pulse of Dust. It staggered and tripped, falling over a fallen beam of wood and collapsing into a pile of scrap and detritus. Duncan was on it before it recovered, driving one sword into its neck and using the other to lop its head off.

Turning, he demanded, "Did you get blood in your mouth?"

"It tastes like rotten fish!" He coughed, "What the hell!?"

"Damn…" Duncan murmured, turning to the woman who lay, sobbing, on the ground a few feet away. Quietly, he asked, "From your face when we saw them, these are not Grimm."

"No." He spat, shaking his head and reaching into his pouch for one of the ration bars. They tasted strong and foul, too, but hopefully it would… Mute it, somehow. Grimacing, he asked, "Why?"

"Darkspawn blood is poison." Jaune froze, but Duncan ignored him, waving him over to the crying woman and grunting. "Come."

Jaune did and, when he knelt beside her, Duncan pulled her hands away from her face.

Black eyes stared up at them, blind, and the woman struggled to cover them again before she rolled over. Black veins trailed all along her neck, too, now that Jaune could see her up close. And more down her back, where her dress had been ripped below the shoulder. Jaune stared down at it, and realized what Duncan was implying.

Quietly, he asked, "How long…?"

"A day or two, to kill you, if we do not… Treat it." The Warden answered, laying a sword across his knee and frowning. "For her? Hours. And she lacks any of the constitution needed to survive the Joining, even if we had gotten here in time."

"The Joining?"

"The only way to survive even a drop of Darkspawn ichor." Duncan explained, turning the apparently insensate woman over and raising his sword. Jaune caught his hand by the wrist, heart racing, and Duncan paid him a pitying sort of glance. "For her, this is all that we can do, Huntsman."

"Yeah, I-I get that, but…" He couldn't bear it, shaking his head even as he couldn't form an argument as to why he couldn't. Stammering, he said, "I-I can't-"

"Please…" The woman murmured, cutting him off. She sounded so… Hopeless and broken and pained, and when he looked down he saw gold under them. Red hair, a gentle smile. He was up and turning away before he could think, breathing quickly and staggering away.

He made it fifteen steps before a hand on his shoulder stopped him and turned him, and he met Duncan's frown with a snarl. The man stepped back, holding up the hand in a gesture of peace, and said, "Are you… Alright?"

"Yes. No. I- The woman?"

"I made it a painless end. More than she had hope for, before our arrival." Jaune's face twisted in understanding and pain that he couldn't quite hide and he palmed his face, trying to collect himself. All it did was make the taste of the blood stand out all the more, though, and he realized he was covered in it now.

Turning, he grabbed his water bottle and washed his face and hands, scrubbing the gloves desperately while Duncan watched.

Quietly, finally he said, "I thought your reaction was due to innocence regarding such matters, but… You have some experience with the granting of a gentle death. Don't you?"

"I…" He considered lying, for a moment. But what would lying really give him, now? Nothing. So he just said, "Yeah. She… She was my friend. She asked me to, I-I didn't have a choice. There was nothing we could do. Cinder was… Too strong, for us. And Pen- She was hurt."

"I will not demand your story, but…" Duncan sighed and turned, looking over the ruined village. "Often, all we can do is ease the ending. Though the burden is no less heavy for knowing it, that is what must be done. And what must be done is all we can do."

"That doesn't help…"

"As I said," Duncan nodded, turning back to him, "the burden is no lighter. Though, in time, the pain may begin to fade. For now, focus on what must be done."

"Right." He nodded, "My… Poison."

"Indeed." He nodded, turning back to the village. "Come. We must collect blood from the Darkspawn and see to the Joining quickly, or your death is all but guaranteed."

"As long as it helps…"

"It may kill you on its own." Duncan grunted, grimacing when Jaune shot him a look. Shrugging he just said, "A guaranteed death or a chance for something more. Those are our choices, Huntsman."

Jaune just frowned, "Say what you like, but 'something more' keeps getting people I care about killed. So I'm not all that enthusiastic about it."

"That," Duncance sighed, "is fair. But it's your choice, in the end. The Joining and a chance, a long death, or a quick one by my hand."

Jaune considered it for a moment before he sighed and waved the man on, shaking his head. "Come on. Let's get what we need."

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What Duncan needed, it turned out, was a glass vial's worth of the inky black blood of the Darkspawn. And time, with a fire and a large sort of… Bowl. Jaune sat at another, larger fire a few feet away, reheating the fish from the night before over and boiling water from a creek a few dozen yards away, at the bottom of a steep hill lined by rocks. Their camp was in the trees, hidden partially by them and set on higher, flatter, relatively softer ground.

Watching the fire, he asked, "So… This will make me a Warden?"

"It will." The man answered, kneeling like a monk with his back to him while he worked. "Presuming you survive it."

"Awesome…"

"Which would you prefer?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Surviving as a Grey Warden, one of Ferelden's few hopes in this dark hour. Doomed to walk a short, brutal path of self sacrifice." He explained, "Or dying here, tonight, if the Joining fails. Which would you favor as an outcome?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Why don't you answer?"

"Because I…" He hesitated, took a breath, and sighed as he set the fish aside and took a drink of water. Shaking his head, he said, "Because I don't know. I don't… Know what I want. What I deserve, after what I've done."

"Giving your friend the mercy she desired is not something to feel shame for."

"Yeah, well…" He sighed, "We'll have to agree to disagree."

"Then, if you will not give yourself the strength to move on…" Duncan turned, holding the bowl in both hands as he stood and moved to sit beside Jaune. Holding it out to him, he said, "Let those you called 'Gods' before, or fate, or the Maker himself decide your fate. And honor your losses in doing so."

"I… I'm not worthy of what you described." Jaune murmured, thinking back to the man's explanation on their walk. "The Wardens deserve better."

"If you cannot believe in yourself," Duncan smiled, "believe in me. And in doing, believe in the me that believes in you. Put your stock in me, and I will put it in you. And, together, we shall strike down the Blight."

He hesitated for a moment before he nodded and, when Duncan filled it, took the goblet from him. Holding it, he said, "For Penny. For Pyrrha…"

"For all." Duncan nodded, "There are only a few words to be said, before the Joining, if you would allow it."

"Of course…"

"Then jon us, Brother. In the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us in duty that cannot be foresworn. And…" Duncan frowned but nodded gently, almost bowing his head. "Should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that, one day, we shall join you."

Frowning, Jaune nodded and took a long, deep drink.

It burned, like fire all the way down into his gut, and he nearly threw the goblet as he turned and clutched his stomach. His heart wrenched in his chest and his eyes watered, and then… He collapsed onto his side, and only knew that he was asleep.

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