After breakfast, and any awkwardness between them sorted out, Evelyn was unexpectedly whisked away by her friends to Dhara's hut to work on the Knotting Rope. Opening her door, her nostrils were assaulted by incense burning with fragrant oils, reminding her of the bathhouses of Ostwick. The thin smoke circled to the top of the hut getting caught in the rising sun's light making the space warm and inviting. The apprentice was seated on layers of pelts on the floor, behind a wide circular table. A large steaming kettle was placed on a leather beside stacked mugs. Various bowls of dried and fresh tea leaves, roots, and crushed spices sat waiting to be made into earthy tea. A honeycomb dripping with the sweet golden treat was also on offer, as well as goat's milk, to add to taste, but Evelyn had always enjoyed the richness of the Basin's natural flavors.

With her arms splayed out to the sides, she dramatically welcomed the women in, "It is the honor bestowed upon me by The Lady of the Skies to guide ye through the Knottin'." She was draped in her ceremonial pelts and skins with her face painted white with black lines and dots. Evelyn was frozen by the entrance of the dwelling, but the others filed in and took their seats. "These women have agreed to help ye, the Phoenix of Redhold, prepare and assist ye on yer journey to become the next Lady of the Hold." For a moment, she almost thought they were kidding with the typically spunky mage acting so somber and subdued, but there was this glimmer of hope and sincerity in the eyes of the others. "We have waited years for ye to come, and restore balance to the land. Ye have the hopes of the clan riding on yer union and through such a bond, will bring new life to our people."

Evelyn plopped down across from Dhara, suddenly becoming contemplative through her words. The past few weeks she had been so selfish, concentrating on herself and enjoying her freedom while forgetting the larger picture. This was her duty, her new purpose. The Avvar had suffered the decline of their culture for years. Knowing now what she knew about their way of life, she felt a pang of guilt hit her at the thought that she had not been subjected to such suffering. It also did not make her feel any better about her behavior when she first arrived. There was much to atone for.

Dhara continued, "The women here all have a purpose; Ilara is yer Bond of the Mind, Cassandra is that of the body. Rosalie is yer blood bond, as she will become your kin, and I will be yer spirit bond through the Realm of Dreams."

"What is the purpose of bonds?" This was the first she was being told of such things.

"Each bond will join you here in this room to perform a cleansing in preparation to rid yourself of any negative energy or spirits that you have accumulated, so that on the day of yer wedding ye enter the bond pure. We do this because most Avvar are married multiple times, so symbolically we are giving you back yer innocence. You and yer mate will meet unburdened by the past. Afterward, we'll meet back here to knot the rope."

A surge of sobering emotion suddenly gripped her. This was the farthest thing she thought was going to happen today. She just assumed she'd be tying some rope together, not this. Tears well up in her eyes at the memory of the forceful loss of her virginity. Blinking a few times and clenching her jaw, the gentle hands of her bonds touched her shoulder.

"Don't fight the energy's release, the Hold Spirits will starve off the demons that are attached to it. The more open ye are to them, the weaker the demons become. The cleanses today have all been planned based on the specific relationship you have with each bond." More tears began to flow having never felt such care or tenderness from anyone since before she came into her magic. She had friends in the Circle sure, but it was… different. Mages were purposely set against their peers to compete ruthlessly for status in the Circle. The Chantry did it to keep them from feeling as if they were like a clan. They were less likely to rebel that way. Knowing that each one of them had devised something specifically for her melted her heart. She may have only known them for six months, but in that time, she felt closer with them than people she had known for years back in Ostwick.

Evelyn sniffled a 'thank you' while wiping some falling tears.

"Ye do not need to thank us for this, we would be poor clanmates if we did not support ye, whether ye are destined to ascend into Avvar legend or not. We love you." That broke her so profoundly, that she wondered if they had heard all the barriers around her heart shatter. Sobbing uncontrollably, she felt Dhara's magic around her. It was the same odd sensation the Augur had touched her with, but this time there was a pull happening on her mana. "That's it, I can feel Despair’s attachment," her eyes were shut tight and her extended hand shook. Ilara looked at the young mage with concern, allowing her to go on for a few more moments before placing a hand on her. The spell broke, and Evelyn let go of a breath she didn't know she was holding. "The demon is stronger than I expected," she frowned, "only makes sense that only the most powerful demons would attach to ye. The Spirits and I will keep trying throughout the day. Fear not, we will banish it to the deepest pit of the Abyss."

"W-why is Despair attached to me?" Her voice was shaky.

"Only ye know the answer to that. I sensed a trace of Rage as well, but… the Spirits tell me Hakkon had banished it when he bestowed the mark upon you."

"I did feel my mana almost become tempered following his gift," she waved her marked hand at them.

"As did Dusan and I." After a brief meaningful look, she sighed happily, invoking some of her usual perkiness forth, "Now, Ros will connect with ye through the bond of blood. Followin' that, Ilara will guide ye through meditation exercises to clear yer mind of yer troubles and relax your body, then Cassandra will return with healers for a vigorous massage of yer muscles, and then ye and I will banish the demons." Standing with a jump, she clapped her hands once, "Right, let's get to it, ladies! We have a bride to cleanse and ready!" Everyone but Rosalie exited the hut, leaving the two to begin with the day’s festivities.

The Bond of Blood began with a history lesson, which was always welcome since she was a student of history herself. Rosalie pulled tome after dusty old tome from Dhara's bookshelf to browse through. She explained that because she was a Lowlander, she needed to start from the very beginning with the birth of the gods. Evelyn listened intently to the fables and hymns embracing her newly adopted culture. As she had observed from their way of life, everything revolved around the clan and the family, which was reflected in the lesson each story portrayed. Though there was no prophet, there were heroes who shaped Avvish culture through their great deeds, to which Rosalie remarked she'd be counted among them soon.

The last of the lesson had to do with the Rutherfords. Opening a well-cared-for leather-bound book, they thumbed through the long lineage of their line preserved in the paper. At the end, where she and her siblings were listed was her name below two others marked with a black underline and the word ‘deceased’. Next to each name was a thumbprint pressed to the page in blood. Ros held her hand out grasping a sharp piece of bone in the other. Giving it over willingly after asking if this would result in some blood magic and receiving a confused 'no,' one quick prick and press entered her into their family history. She remarked that they had not been blessed with a hero in their long lineage, but that that would be changing.

"Ros, seriously? You're really laying on the pressure!"

"I'm merely a footnote in your legend, helping you discover how special you are. I believe in you, even if you doubt yourself." A sweet look graced her beautiful face.

She couldn't help but become sentimental at it, "You have been more of a sister to me in the last six months than my real sisters have ever been. You are not a footnote, you are a part of it." Evelyn tapped on the Book of Heroes, "It seems to me every hero needs their clan and family behind them to complete their destiny. I'm glad to be becoming a member of yours." The two women of opposite looks and traits embraced. The Phoenix's long-toned arms squeezed the skinny homemaker affectionately, taking in her flowery scent. "Could I marry you instead of your brother, I feel we're more compatible," she said chuckling.

Returning the jest, "Not with the way you snore! You and Cullen belong together on that fact alone."

Evelyn laughed harder, "I forgot about that, he is going to be so thrilled when we…" The thought of sleeping beside him tripped her up. She knew it was bound to happen, but it had always seemed so far in the future. Now it was four days away.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm sure he is exceedingly more nervous than you are about sharing a bed daily. I'd bet anything he'll offer to sleep on the floor for the first month." The youngest Rutherford's brown eyes softened, "He wouldn't want me to say, but he lamented over the decision to force you into marriage."

"Why tell me this now?" She wondered at the ulterior motive, knowing before that she had tried to help her see her brother in a better light.

The blonde shrugged, "I suppose I just want you both to be happy, and that begins with forgiveness and understanding." Evelyn froze as they both stared deep into each other's soul from the feel of it, "I know my brother, and I think he needs you, he just doesn't know it yet. And you need him too, but I feel like you are becoming more aware of it than you let on."

The mage looked down at her hands, breaking the trance, "I won't deny that he makes me feel safe. I've always had to watch my own back, but with him, I feel at peace also knowing I can protect him as well."

Ros smiled at the words, "Well it’s a start, even if you two skipped ahead a few steps on Wintersend."

"Blame your brother, I was on my best behavior that night until he showed up and all hell broke loose." She gave her a pointed look in response, "Alright, I did provoke him. We both share the blame. Happy?"

"Yes," as she went to say more, Ilara softly knocked and let herself in. "Seems our time is at an end, sister." With a hug, she collected her family records and left.

The next hour with her Bond of the Mind passed by quickly in guided meditation. Ilara's soothing voice paired with the gentle chimes ringing out periodically was calming. Paired with the scented oils wafting about, Evelyn was more afraid she was going to fall asleep rather than still her mind. Yet, she was practiced in the art of meditation, having being urged to pursue it as a young hot-headed mage. In the serenity of the hut, she achieved the state of clarity she sought. Her mind absently made order out of the recent chaos. Change and the fear of it had held her back, and ironically it was the Avvar who embraced change. Not wanting to break the trance, Ilara switched out with Cassandra seamlessly.

Before the bride-to-be knew it, she was stripped and lying face down on a table of some kind. Peeking out to her side was her Bond of the Body, though she only saw her torso. Straining to look up more, she was greeted by a stern command to continue her meditation. Cassandra's calloused hands kneaded her flesh hard, but the deep tissue massage was not unwelcome. The tight pressure and then release of each stroke made her feel as if she was floating on air. Blood coursed to areas that were lacking it, warming her to the bone. The tension and stress that had built up over the last few months, maybe even a year, was beaten away - quite literally.

When Dhara returned she felt like a new mage. Evelyn was so relaxed she feared opening her eyes to allow reality to ground her from the high. The apprentice allowed her to stay in her state for a while longer as she delved deep into her subconscious. The bride opened herself up to her in the hopes that she'd learn more about this demonic attachment. That thought alone was enough to undo the past few hours of relaxation.

"I cannit do it," Dhara huffed in disappointment. "I've never seen one this strong before." Opening her eyes finally, Evelyn looked at the young mage who scratched her wild copper hair. "I will have to speak to the Augur of this. I'm sure he'll have a solution!"

“What more can you tell me of the demon? I have extensive experience with them, so I know the nature of Despair, I’m just not sure why it’s attached to me?”

The apprentice Augur closed her eyes reaching out to the Realm of Dreams seeking knowledge. Her eyes squinted and she winced a few times, “It… has been with ye for about eight years.” Evelyn tried to think of the significance of the number, but was drawling a blank. “I think it may be linked with the prophecy, that’s why it… hunted ye.”

“So, it’s a strong demon that had some form of knowledge of the prophecy.” She sorted through all the lessons from her demonology class for something that could aid her. She mumbled to herself, “A twisted Hope spirit, purpose denied, it knew of me through the prophecy, so it possible originated from the Basin…” She sighed, this time looking across the table, “It’s odd, but there’s got to be something I’m missing to piece together. How was it able to hide from me for so long? The Templars should have sensed it – I should have…”

“To me, the connection felt more like it marked ye as its pet. Through dreams it could find ye, but it wasn’t always with ye, which would explain why no one felt its presence for long enough to investigate. Other demons let ye be, not willing to challenge it to claim ye.” The Knight-Enchanter’s brow knitted together as a feeling of unease brewed in her belly. Dhara sensing it, not wanting to let it ruin the day, added, “We’ll speak with the Augur tomorrow, if Despair has let us see it, then the Hold Spirits are no doubt working to protect you against it. They may not be able to break it the attachment yet, but with our combined power and the Heart of the Hold, it’s a good as dead! Yer safe.” Feeling slightly better, she nodded, closing her eyes trying to find the serenity of the hut again.

With a knowing smirk, she invited the others in, and for the rest of the afternoon, they shared tea, nuts, bread, fruit preserves, and goat cheese. "It's time we Knotted the Rope." Everyone gathered around the table perked up for the main event of the day. Dhara pushed a large rectangular box into the middle of the table. Lifting the lid gently, a well-worn rope appeared. From their reaction, one would've thought it was made of gold. "Lady of the Skies, may this Knottin' of the Rope by this stolen bride be blessed by you. We call upon Ye to help Evelyn Althea Trevelyan weave the sacred rope that has joined every man and woman in this clan since its founding. This Knottin’ today will bind her to our Thane, Cullen Stanton Rutherford. It will be by your will that her knots will hold firm or unravel at his deft hands, for Ye are wise and will not lead them astray. In return, Evelyn will honor the time set forth by the Knottin' Ceremony, and lead our people beside Thane Rutherford. As Lady of the Hold, she will embody Redhold’s spirit of a lioness and protect our ways and our clan."

The other women took the old softened hemp braid from its box, carefully placing the frayed ends towards her. Towards the top, where it was braided as a handhold loop, were various knots still left untied from previous brides. She gently touched a finger to them, blinking a few times as distant visions flashed through her mind’s eye. She wondered at if it were the souls of her former self reacting to such a profound artifact. With that thought fresh in her mind, she looked nervously up at her friends, "Um, I just…?"

"Just tie knots," Cassandra replied plainly.

Dhara sighed shaking her head at the sword maiden, "Do as you feel, Phoenix. The Lady will guide you. It is she who will determine the strength of your knots." With a weary look, she began.

With no plan or knowledge of knots aside from the ones used to tie her field tent to the stakes, she tapped into her heightened state letting her fingers move of their own volition. Watching her digits weave an intricate pattern, pulling the thick threads tightly every now and then. Evelyn tried to push the competitive urging out of her mind to just tangle the bloody thing to see the look on Cullen’s face when she saw what he’d have to unravel. No, this was as sacred as anything she had held in such high regard in her former life. This was her marriage! When she felt lost or stumped in the tying, she closed her eyes and listened for the Lady around her as she had been taught to do. After a few moments of listening, the odd bird would chirp jolting her into action or sing a sweet song for her fingers to dance to. When she had no more rope to tie, she sat back and looked to the others. Just as they had set it out, it went carefully back into the box, which Dhara then sealed magically to avoid tampering.

With a loud cheer, their duty as bonds was complete, lounging back on the cushions and furs about the room in relief. Ignoring the nagging of her rational mind worried about Despair, she resigned herself to enjoying her current company. No demon had got the better of her yet, and she was confident this one wouldn't either.

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That same evening was vastly different from the rest of her day which had been filled with friends. She arrived home to find that no one was there, including her brother, all seeming to have plans except for her. Her shared room was empty and quiet except for the crackling of the low fire. Rosalie had already left for the evening to spend it with her beau. On the way back to the house, she had purred about how she was going to 'surprise him' when he returned from their drinking. Not wanting to know the details in case she was interrogated by the Rutherford brothers, she winked at the blond beauty letting her know she expected to hear all the juicy details in the morning, since the girl took every opportunity to talk about her and 'Ry,' as she called him.

Evelyn had thought she would've enjoyed the quiet having had an emotional and contemplative day, but found instead she wanted a distraction, feeling lighter than she had in years. She stoked the fire with her magic giving her some heat to take with her as her nightgown was thin, having rotated out their winter attire for lighter fabric following the first warm days of spring. With the amount of heavy furs they blanketed on their beds, they didn't need to sleep in much as nights became milder. This particular garment was borrowed from Rosalie because for once it actually fit her because it was flowy not form-fitting. The Avvar cotton nightgown was modest in the front and the back dipped down to her lower back. The length fell to just below her knees, almost making it look ridiculous on her due to her height. Wrapping a shawl around her to protect against the chill the stone of the longhouse house still bled, she walked out into the common room to find some way to amuse herself.

The whole house was silent as if she had entered a Fade-version of it. Hearing people walking and talking in passing out front, she knew she wasn't dreaming, but she had never been left alone before. Annoyed at the quiet, she began humming and singing to herself taking laps about the room in the hopes the three men would return from the Mead Hall, but as time passed she grew bored. Was it too late to change and join their drinking? No, it was a night for the boys, she probably shouldn't break up their merriment. So she continued to wander about inspecting everything until she reached Cullen's room.

When she entered, she almost mistook his armor on the stand in the corner as him, jumping slightly. It looked different in the dark room, and she quickly used her mana to light the chamber and fireplace. She quietly stepped towards the set to get a better look at it. The pads of her calloused feet protected her from the rough wooden floorboards as she crept closer as if it were a sleeping lion. She could never study it too closely when it was on him for the fact that she'd be staring at him openly, but she had always been fascinated by it. There was one piece in particular that intrigued her most - the lion helm. She knew they had good trading relations with several Dwarven merchants and had wondered if that's where he had gotten it from since its quality was nothing she'd seen produced in the Hold. It was made of Everite, like her spirit blade hilt, which had plentiful deposits in the Basin. From how expensive the ore was on the market, she had to assume that he had mined the metal himself in order to have it expertly shaped, for of what she knew of his income, there would have been no way for him to afford such armor.

Picking it up off of the stand and looking sheepishly around to make sure she was still alone, she tucked her hair up into the helm donning it. It was too big on her, naturally, but the added padding of her hair stopped its heavy visor and guard from dropping down off her forehead too far. With a hand holding the chin guard up to support the weight as well, she tried to turn her head but failed. It smelt of pure sweat and leather from the scant padding on the inside. As she peered out through the lion's mouth, she was surprised at how well she could see, as helms of such intricate designs are often less practical for battle. The longer she wore it the more her neck muscles tightened under its weight. The metal and long fur making up the mane was incredibly heavy, though she knew for him it was of little consequence.

How many battles had this helmet seen? How many times had it saved his life? Her fingers felt along the outside to where she knew it was scared by battle. The sharp scratches her fingers traced in the metal spoke to her as she closed her eyes envisioning the incoming enemies. She saw the young and foolish charge him, seeking glory at killing a Thane such as he. Through his eyes, she watched as he quickly assessed his foe targeting their weakness before dispatching them quickly or simply knocking them out with a good shield bash. Then she saw the stout and seasoned warriors who engaged him with the deserved respect, giving the gods a good show. They were not so easily defeated, engaging in the dance of death with them for some time. His armor did its job when it could, but the enemy had got a few good licks in on his leg and exposed sword arm. When at last they fell to him, he silently thanked the warrior for the battle and that he was able to give him a good death befitting their caliber. Then Axlan appears full of vengeance looking for blood, his hulking form running at him with a large axe swinging lethally as he braces for impact about to slam into his shield --

She shook herself from the visions. Though the helm held power, it also painted a target inviting death to try to claim him with each use. As a mage, she was used to fighting at range most of the time, but standing there holding your ground for someone like Axlan to charge you, gave her a new respect for Cullen. The room was quiet once more as the fire communed with her through soft crackles that all was peaceful. When she felt the unnerving feeling of being watched, she pivoted around on her bare feet, causing the visor to clang shut.

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The Thane had returned.

He was leaning up against the wall between the fireplace and door, having snuck in no doubt after seeing her. He wore an amused smirk on his face, along with his usual red cotton shirt and brown leather pants held up by a thick belt. Though she wanted to throw the damn thing off her head in a huff of embarrassment, it was too late to pretend he hadn't caught her in it. Instead, she reached back and drew his sword from its rack. The familiar ring of Silverite echoed through the room. As she wielded it as if it were her spirit blade, her arm and shoulder muscles tightened with the effort of holding such a heavy blade. She had to grip the longsword with both her hands to hold the point steady at the base of his throat.

"Enjoying yourself?"

She flipped the visor up, "Smells like wet Mabari in here." Her voice was slightly muffled by the helm.

He chuckled, still having not moved even with the sword to his throat. Appearently she wasn’t much of an intimidating figure in the decorative armor. "And I'm sure your helmet smells of honey and wildflowers, right?"

"Embrium, actually." He arched an eyebrow up. "I add the oil to the lining. It's enough that I won't knock myself out by my own stench… unlike this."

"And yet, you're still wearing it. If you like it so much, I can have one made for you. It could be a wedding gift." Suddenly, he made a face over her left shoulder making her turn, allowing him to grapple the sword from her. With the tables turned as he slowly backed her to the bed. Her legs buckled when the backs of her knees hit it and she fell back with the added weight of the lion's maul as he continued to press her flat to it with the sword.

"Why are you in here?" His tone was soft and curious. She swallowed hard despite the lack of actual danger.

"This is where I keep my belongings, I didn't think I needed permission to enter." He studied her trying to determine if it was the truth or if she just came in to snoop. "No one was home, I got bored and wandered about..."

"And your search brought you here? To my armor?"

"After exhausting all other options, yes." A soft hum of approval escaped him as his expression looked sincerer at her words.

He took the sword away from her and helped her up to her feet. After placing it back where it belonged, he came for the helm. She stood in place as he slowly lifted it off her. Her long hair tumbled out from it to hug her bare shoulders. She ran her hand through it moving wayward strands away from her face as he put it on the stand. When he returned to her, he lifted some of her locks to his face inhaling deeply. She watched him unabashed as he stared into her fiery eyes.

"Hmm, smells like wet dog." She gave him a playful shove. "And you still hit like a girl." He smiled that contagious and rare smile of his, which she couldn't help but reciprocate. Behind his back, she conjured a flame in her hand, but having been spending more time with her, he sensed it and turned an eye back to her, "Don't you dare. I like these pants."

"You're no fun, Rutherford," she tickled him slightly at his side making him twitch. "Wait, are you ticklish?"

"No," can the quick and terse reply.

"You are!" She grabbed his sides and he squirmed before her clearly ticklish. He pushed her back a few steps and got that playful look in his eye, "Wait, no--" Tackling her onto the bed, she was hit by the bulky weight of the warrior. She grunted, but thankfully he rolled off a second later on to his back. The two sighed content to just gaze up at the ceiling. Feeling the furs beneath her, she inhaled deeply feeling so relaxed that she shut her eyes. His weight shifted in the bed and she felt his gently brush against her arm. Opening the eye closest to him, she turned her head slightly. He had a smug smile on his face as his eyes trailed the length of her body, "I'm comfy, shut up!" She shut her eyes, only to open them abruptly, remembering she was only wearing smalls on her bottom. He began to laugh, and she sighed laughing along with him, "Well, shit."

"If you're cold, you do have the means to warm up the room."

The was no question as to which body part was cueing him into that, "Cullen!" She pushed him over listening to that low baritone chuckle. "Are you drunk?"

"No, when have you ever known me to get drunk?"

"True, I bet my brother could change that. Be careful with that one." She felt a shit-eating grin spread on her face, laughing lightly, "That certainly would be something."

He rolled his eyes, "I don't think it takes a drunk to comment on your attire, or lack thereof, especially when dressed like that."

"Better get used to it, this is how I sleep." She watched him swallow visibly. She threw herself back down, "That won't be a problem, will it?" They both turned their faces toward each other, drinking in the other's eyes for a long moment. His straw-colored hair stood out in contrast to the dark pelts.

"As long as you don't mind mine?"

There was a hint of mischief in his eye, and she squinted at him suspiciously, "Why? What do you… oh." Remembering back to the morning of issuing the challenge, clear as day in her mind, she remembered he wore even less than she was now.

Watching her face redden, he chuckled again mocking her, "Better get used to it."

"So long as you stay on your half of the bed, Rutherford, I won't have to singe you."

"I can, can you?"

She sat up, bringing her knees to the side and tucking them partly behind her, "Claim your territory," she motioned with her hand as if drawing a line, "where is the divide?"

He followed suit, rolling up on his knees, "The center obviously." He drew the boundary atop the blankets. "Agreed?"

"Mmm, no. Here." Assuming he liked to sleep on the left side where he had failed to smooth the ruffled pelts from the previous night, she made her half larger.

"You daft, woman?" The scowl on his face was priceless, and she took no small pleasure in it. Unable to hold in her giggles, she broke holding her sides. He pushed her over without resistance.

"Come now, you can’t believe I'm that unreasonable?" She wiped at the tears at the corners of her eyes.

"Is there a reason you're still here annoying me?"

She hummed in thought before answering matter-of-factly, "I suppose you are right. Goodnight." She ignored his gaping and bewilderment at the obvious jest, and as she slipped off the bed, he caught her spinning her before pinning her down. "Oh, I'm that kind of annoying tonight," she laughed.

He held her throat gently gliding his hand up and down the smooth expanse, "You really are."

She purred, "What else am I?" Shifting her hips to align with his, she arched slightly brushing up against him. The thin nightgown slid up her thighs at the movement. As much as she believed both of them were trying to ignore it, they were gravitating towards the other since the challenge. It was hard to figure out whether it was natural or helped along by the fact that regardless of what they actually wanted, they were getting married.

Pushing her strong chin up, his finger grazed her scared cheek, "You're pig-headed and haughty," she smiled wider at each insult.

"And… I'm in your bed. I thought beds were for Ladies?" As her hands roamed, she found his chest muscles extremely tight... and clammy. Suddenly, he froze and slowly parted from her having turned white as a ghost. His stare told her he was far away, not fully aware of where he was or what was going on. It was an all too familiar glazed-over look, "Cullen?" Evelyn shook him gently, then again harder, "Cullen?" His chest heaved as he began to panic silently inside the prison of his mind. She pushed up onto her elbows a bit, "Hey, come on! You're alright, you're just in your room. You are safe, everyone is safe." He shook his head trembling as his muscles coiled tightly. Pushing him back slowly so as not to be seen as a threat, she watched as his facial muscles twitched and reacted to the unseen.

He continued to shake his head almost violently, "No, there's blood. There's so much blood. It won't stop." Pointing to a spot right off the bed on the floor, all she could see was a clean woven rug. "It's there." He was frozen reliving a horror.

She slipped off the bed still not seeing anything, "Cullen, there's no blood. No one is hurt." Fingering the corner of the floor covering, she hesitated a moment looking up at him. Her stomach tingled, knowing she did not want to see what was hidden, but was also compelled to look. Throwing it over quickly, she saw a dark misshapen stain soaked into the wooden floorboards. She couldn't help but ghost her hand over the bloodied floor which continued underneath the bed. Specks dotted the area and she knew now what purpose the rug served.

Whipping her hair and head back around to him, he began to come to, blinking and sitting back on his heels while running his hands feverishly through his hair. He looked around sorting through what was real and what was not, answering the phantoms who asked questions of him. Cullen's shoulders drooped and his hands rested palms up as if he was cradling something.

Bounding up onto the bed, she grabbed his face, looking into his amber eyes, "Cullen, don't listen to them! They are not real, it's just you and me! Focus on me, breathe!" He tried to break away but Evelyn held strong and soon he began to calm. His hands came up to grip hers, pressing his cheeks into her palms. A sheen of sweat moistened his forehead, and he looked thoroughly exhausted.

"I-- I'm sorry."

She waved a hand about before pulling his head against her chest, "Do not apologize for the horrors you've suffered. It is I who should've been more careful not to trigger such visions had I known." He looked at her with guilt-laden across his features. The soft brown hues of her eyes tried to be as reassuring as possible, "I understand, probably better than most, what it's like. Never apologize to me."

After a few minutes, as he gathered himself. He sighed heavily, "I suppose I need to tell you about how I lost two wives."

She searched his eyes seeing if he had the resolve there for the tale, "Only if that's what you want?" Her voice was soft and sincere. She repositioned herself so she was partly facing him and found his hand, resting hers on top.

He began abruptly, like if he didn’t start now he was never going to, "My first wife, Kattrin, and I were married two years before the gods called her home and my second marriage to Ninne was only for a year."

"I'm so sorry, I can't imagine what you went through. Did you love them?"

"Kattrin was my sweetheart from childhood. I never thought I'd have another, I didn't want another, only her." Evelyn couldn't help the tinge of jealousy, nor the stab of pain that he'd have to suffer through a marriage with her, a woman he didn’t fully choose himself. He hadn't said much about this Kattrin, but the besotted expression conveyed more about her than words ever could. How could she not be slightly jealous that the man she was marrying still loved another woman? Shaking her treacherous thoughts from such petty envy of a dead woman, she listened as he went on, "Ninne was purely a duty," his face turned serious, "and every day I was with her, I felt guiltier for she deserved someone capable of caring for her better than I could. Kat had only been a year dead before I married her. My heart was still broken, I suppose it still is if she’d still haunting me." She swallowed hard, knowing that this marriage was to be likely the same as his second. He stared at her as if hearing her thoughts, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be saying this before our wedding."

She squeezed his arm, "Ever since I heard you were married before, I never had the expectation that I'd ever replace them. I think were I a younger woman, I would be jealous," she partially lied, "but I'm not. Frankly, no man back home would marry me for my age... or because I'm scarred... or because I'm a mage." She couldn't help but laugh sarcastically at her lot. "Wow, nice Trevelyan," she slapped a hand down her face, "you're quite the prize. Do tell me to shut up before I go on." Looking over at him his eyes had just barely softened at her words, relieving a bit of the gloom of the conversation, if only momentarily. "I hate to ask but, how… did they die?" Having processed the question, he was in the full grip of the ghosts from his past, seeing but not seeing as he stared off into the memories unblinking. He swallowed a few times, and a cold nausea settled in her stomach waiting for him to answer.

"Childbirth." Her heart stopped. She watched the deep shadows invade his face as it creased and tightened. The muscle in his jaw twitched as he clenched it tight. Her hand slid up his arm to rest on his bicep. Leaning her head towards his shoulder and rested her face on it. There were no words that could convey the depth of his grief or the sincerity of her sympathies. The gut-wrenching knowledge that she never met any of his children, nor were they ever mentioned answered her next question, which she couldn't bear to utter. Both wives and children had died.

Since the sawn of time, childbirth was a risky endeavor. She had never assisted with one having specialized in pyromancy, but Solona, her friend from the Circle of Ostwick, told her of the few she attended. Each description was fraught with danger to both mother and child; The mother's innards out of her body, the bleeding, the stitching. Her convulsions and screams from the pain of being torn open after hours, maybe even days of labor. The child is being pushed and pulled from the womb, breathing or not breathing. The umbilical cord was both a lifeline and a hazard. Or the father having to make the impossible decision of who to save when only one could survive. Magic greatly increased the success of births, but it never guaranteed it, and most people had a healthy enough fear of magic that they refused the aid of a mage despite their better chance of survival. There were times when she was grateful she would not have to suffer so, yet being denied the choice soured the fact. Evelyn could not deny the maternal instinct ticking away inside her to reproduce either. She had always laughed inwardly at the older mages who lamented on it. Having focused on her duty as her only companion for years, she didn't understand... but now she did.

"Since then, I had not considered another wife or any woman. I did not want to curse them. Then there was the prophecy, I thought I'd have to step down as Thane, for he must produce heirs."

"You think you're cursed?"

"How else could it be explained? Simply bad luck? Coincidence? I think not."

A chill ran up her spine as an odd thought snaked through her mind, "Cullen, when was the first time the Spirits spoke of the prophecy?"

His eyes looked up searching his memory, "I believe it was on 15 Harvestmere, 9:11 Dragon. Most Avvar remember the day well. Why?"

Evelyn swallowed visibly, "That was the day of my birth." She shut her eyes tight, there was a connection, but what was it? "When did the Hold Spirits say Korth began his efforts to call me to the Basin?"

His brow folded into a scowl, "When I became Thane eight years ago."

"And when did the Blight begin killing the land and the women stop bearing children?"

"I… I'm not completely sure…"

"Give me an estimate, please Cullen! This is important." She was breathing heavily with a wild panic surfacing with each answer."

"Eight years ago."

A sharp gasp escaped her, and in a moment a cloud of her magic concealed her as she fade stepped out of the house. It was pitch black outside helping to obscure her lack of dress, but she didn't care. Squinting into the distance she saw the purple flash of the Heart of the Hold flicker to life within the Augur's hut. They knew she knew.

Right as she cast her next spell, Cullen kicked the doors of the longhouse open, "Evelyn!" When he spotted her smoking trail, he athletically pivoted to sprint after her.

Propelling herself forward again to the door, she followed the Thane's lead kicking it open. Waiting for her were the Hold Spirits, rigidly floating about. There was a wild look in their eyes as the overpowering aura of the Phoenix fought them for dominance. "The truth! All of it now!" She roared loud enough that she could've woken an archdemon, "He's on his way here, so you can either--" A bright bolt of magic of no element she had ever felt struck her. Reflexively, her mana ignited in her defense lashing out harshly. The spirit of the Warrior had attacked her, and responding with a stream of fire, the two battled until she was physically tackled.

"Korth's breath, Evelyn! What are you doing?!" Cullen wrestled her to the ground. The fire in her eyes and veins was flaming as she struggled against him. The Warrior had ceased his attack but lingered near ready to smite her again. The door flew open again as Dusan watched unable to believe his eyes.

"You bastard!" The spirit's snarl curled up slightly as she cursed him.

The blonde Thane had her in a headlock holding her back, as he grit out, "Calm yourself!"

"I quite agree," Wisdom floated forth from hiding, "Let us speak, it's usually more productive." Dusan looked to the elder for reassurance that whatever he had walked in on was passable.

"Don't listen to them," she hissed trying to break free of his strong grasp, "it's all their fault! They didn't tell you!"

"Didn't tell me what," he growled out as she stopped struggling.

"One of them, a Hold Spirit, turned into a demon! One who attached itself to me and has been causing the trouble with fertility in the Basin!" Wisdom's face turned grim, "Am I correct?" His silence told her the answer and she turned to Cullen, "Today, Dhara told me there was a powerful Despair demon attached to me, one she couldn't remove. Demons are cunning, and it got me to thinking about the sequence of events. Eight years ago, I was first raped. Ryker had always been a creep, but he was a non-violent stalker until he just… snapped. That's why I asked you those questions." The Phoenix looked to Wisdom, "Correct me if what I know of spirits is wrong, but Despair can cause extreme behavior in mortals. They are the most intelligent of the demons, understanding the causes of grief, and able to manipulate people to get what it wants. Nightmares, suicide, sudden death… child loss are all within its capabilities to create a feast for itself. Despair is a perverted spirit of Hope." She watched as Cullen all but fell onto the bench. "Your turn. Start. Explaining."

Cullen had collapsed over his knees, briskly running his hand through his hair as Wisdom, began, "It is true. The Thane here wouldn't remember, but just before his father died, so too had a Hold Spirit - Hope. Its purpose was to stop the former Thane from seeking revenge for the death of his wife. To give him the resolve to face the loss in this life." The Spirit and current Thane both painfully looked at each other, "When Hope failed, we warned your father he'd die in the attempt, but he did it anyway. His action and rash behavior during that time, led us to suspect that Hope didn't die, but had been twisted into its antithesis." Evelyn had no idea when she barged into the hut that it was one of Redhold’s own Spirits that had been the cause of so much pain.

Seeing Cullen was in no state to question the Spirits, she did so in his stead, "So, Cullen's father dies and then it finds me? Why?"

"Because of the prophecy. You said yourself you know Despair to be the most intelligent. The estranged Hold Spirit still retained its knowledge of us, of the prophecy. If it could break you, then you would have failed and the Avvar would slowly die. What better fete than that for the demon? An entire people brought low, and all it had to do was influence you." Her eyes widened as the past played out before her. "Phoenix," startled she looked back up to the bearded elder, "do not dwell in those memories for you will feed it. You almost succumbed to it back in Ostwick if Korth Mountain-Father had not saved you."

"You said he called me here, but he saved me too?"

"Yes. Hakkon is vicious, The Lady of the Skies can be harsh, but Korth is protective. The spirits of Avvar that share your soul called out to their Father at the threat, and without care to his own being, he reached through time and space to preserve you, for the creature had just fed and strengthened by taking a life. Unfortunately, Korth's interference did not go unpunished, for Despair learned to siphon his power through you. It had finally found the means to achieve its purpose, and thus why children cannot survive the womb, for the deepest grief that can be found in this world dwells in the loss of a child. For a time, it let you be, visiting occasionally with night terrors, all the while growing fat off the Avvar's strife." The sunken aged face drooped further, "When Despair first arrived, to test its new power, it was drawn to the blood who created it."

"Mine." Cullen still had his face downcast.

"Yes, I am sorry, Thane. We feared if you knew there was a name to your grief that you'd follow your father to your doom, so we kept the knowledge from all, including the Augur. Following that, its power grew and has made the Basin its domain. We Spirits have done what we could to beat it back from revisiting you, but grief is so ingrained into your very being you call to it unknowingly. Not even the Warrior can defeat such a foe when it is let in so freely." The brutish spirit growled in disgust at the old man’s words.

Evelyn crossed her arms. Now that she had the full story, her eagerness to expunge the demonic taint from both she and Cullen grew to a level of desperation, "I know how the Circle would handle such a thing, but I'm curious to know if you had a plan for ridding us of Despair. Unless, of course, you're going to withhold that as well?"

"Watch your words, Lowlander," the old woman cawed like a crow.

"Absolutely not! You say this destiny of mine cannot be tampered with, but it was in fact already set off course by you and Hope! This is why I still cannot trust you no matter your reassurances. You serve the Hold, you guide the Thane, but who is it that governs you?"

"It was a mistake on our part, I will admit. Hope was so sure it could stop the late Thane from seeking revenge... Anyone of us would willingly sacrifice ourselves to right the wrong we created. We are not all-knowing or perfect, but we acted to save a good man - a good leader. We could not let the same happen to the son, who would've walked through all hells to save his family from ruin."

Love floated forth, pulsating with a warm glow, "This life has not been kind to you," Cullen looked up finally, his eyes were heavy with purple bags beneath them. Her spectral hands held a human form, rather than flickering back and forth between a wraith and avatar, "But believe me when I say I have done what I could to send you happiness and love." At its touch, Cullen's eyes closed as he took a deep inhale. A calm overtook his face and she allowed him to linger in her close presence. When her ghostly eyes shifted to the Phoenix, Love slowly backed away.

Walking over to him, she put a hand on his shoulder unable to fathom what he was going through at the revelation. What did dawn on her was the fact that her anger was wasted here. She was to be a leader soon, and as such, she needed to be the solution, not part of the problem, "I suppose I could stand here all night being stubborn or, " she tried to call forth the calm that the day's rituals bestowed upon her, "we can make a plan to kill Despair. Since it's still terrorizing us," motioning between the two of them, "its hasn't possessed anyone yet, so I can kill it in the Fade - sorry, Land of Dreams."

Wisdom's head tilted, "You are referring to what you call a "Harrowing," are you not?" She nodded.

The Warrior approached her slowly, "You would be alone against a very powerful demon. There would be no retreat and no aid from us, as we cannot enter his realm. Furthermore, you would not be able to use Hakkon’s mark." His eyes hardened, narrowing on her, "But, your fire would counter its elemental nature."

She squared her shoulders to him, matching the look of his intensity. Willing herself to approach the spirit, she could help the apprehension she still felt, especially knowing they were not immune to demonic perversion. "I know the risks. Whatever would befall me in the dreaming world would also happen to my physical body, but the mages could aid me. They could patch me up, and keep me fighting. I may be alone in the Land of Dreams, but by channeling through my body, I stand a better chance." Through the pulses of the Fade, she could see his human-half smirk a bit, before giving a nod. "When do we start? We shouldn't delay or it will catch on to our scheme."

"Wait just a godsdamn moment," a growl came from against the wall beside her. He stood, slowly rising above her, "You are not the Lady of this Hold yet to just go off doing whatever it is you please without my permission! You would risk yourself in this endeavor? The one who we need to protect? And what if you die, hmm? What then?" Evelyn placed her hands on her hips, unimpressed by his reasoning, "Why can't Dorian go? He is just as experienced as you, I’m sure."

"Dorian is specialized in the Storm school of magic and will not be able to weaken it enough. If it is as strong as they say the one we send needs to be an Inferno trained mage."

"Can Dhara assist you then?"

"It's a complicated thing to send two mages into the Land of Dreams to find each other, but… it can be done. I'm not sure if you Avvar have a better way?"

Dusan finally spoke up, "We do, it's the same spell we'll cast during your initiation to have her join you. All it requires is physical contact with each other, and the magic will call her to you." She sighed, their task having been made that much easier. He smiled slyly, "Leave that part to her and me Phoenix, we will not fail you."

"How does that plan sit with you?" She looked at her betrothed.

He winced, "I still don't like it, I can't help but feel we are rushing into something we know little about."

"You mean what you know little about. I may not hold my rank any longer, but I'm a Knight-Enchanter by trade. Killing demons and abominations is what I've been trained to do and what I have done for the last decade." She took hold of both his firm shoulders, "Trust me for once, I know what I'm doing." He stared around the room at the others with a worried frown, "I will see both of us back alive."

His eyes shot to her angrily, "See, that right there--"

"I cannot promise that there will not be injury, as like any battle! I can only promise we will both return in victory. Trust me."

He sighed, "I don't have a choice it seems."

She patted a shoulder turning from him, "There's a lot of that going around lately." Walking towards the Augur, he held out his lion skin vest to her. As his eyes drifted up innocently, she took the vest to preserve her modesty before they went to waking or dragging the other mages to the hut. The advisors were also notified, and though their presence was not required, they both appeared as the five Hold mages prepared for battle within the Fade.

Her allies trickled in one by one, some in better moods than others. Dorian had a coffee in hand trying to shake away the buzz of mead. Ilara and Dhara seemed slightly tired at the late hour, both moons nearing their apex in the sky. They had shared a wonderful day, and now she was calling upon them for an unpleasant task. Cassandra and Rylen stood attentive, used to long days and nights should their duty require it of them. Lastly, Cullen arrived back, having informed the three other residents of their house where they were, though kept the nature of it a secret for their own sake. Especially since Owayne had yet to be broken into what dwelled in the Augur's hut.

"Let's go over the plan once more," the official military tone of the Knight-Enchanter broke through confidently, "Dorian, you're my healer, and Ilara, you'll sit with Dhara. Once we overdose on the lyrium, the Augur will cast the spell so Dhara can find me. When that happens, we will both cut a line here." She pointed to a specific spot up by the shoulder. "That will signal that we both are with each other and allow you both to answer by healing us." She turned to Dhara, who while she wore a face of confidence, knew by her slight tremble that under the surface she was nervous. It was her first battle as a pyromancer, and Evelyn knew exactly how she felt, having been her years ago. "You will be entering my dream, so there are things I need to prepare you for which I dare not say in there in case it's listening."

The redhead nodded almost frantically, "I'm ready."

She smiled at her student, and with a deep breath gave her a commanding look, "Whatever happens, let it, until Despair arrives."

She watched as the mage blanched, "Which would be what, Phoenix?"

Evelyn took a glance about the room at the others before continuing, "I will be taking you back to the Circle of Ostwick. I will begin by showing you around until we capture the demon's attention with the amount of lyrium we've consumed. It will see us as a tasty snack. No other demons would dare encroach upon its territory for fear of Despair. Once I sense it, I will take you to the training grounds and then into the mage's armory." She steeled herself for the next part of the plan, "There I will summon… a man. He is a demon in his own right, but you will let him do… as he pleases to me. You will hide during the whole thing, and no matter what," she grabbed her skinny shoulders, "you do not help me, nor make your presence known. He's a bastard and he will go after you."

"Evelyn…" Cullen growled out.

"No! This is a trap we are setting. Despair has to not suspect a thing, otherwise, it is all for naught! We won't get another chance if we're found out. And if Ryker Aeron was its puppet, then only he could lure it into my dream. It has to seem real." Her resolve quieted him, and she looked to Dorian, "You cannot heal me until I give you the signal again."

Dorian rubbed at his eyes, "What if the Templar wounds you in a similar way?"

"He won't. He doesn't use blades. Leaves too much evidence." She watched her fellow mage swallow hard, giving a single nod. Looking at them all once more, she asked if they were ready, everyone nodding tensely at the unexpected turn their evening took. They took their places about the room; The non-mages stepped back against the wall to watch, while the Hold Spirits faded back through the Veil as observers. Dorian and Ilara knelt waiting to receive their charges after they drank the glowing blue mineral. Handing the two pyromancers the potent cups of lyrium, Dusan mumbled protections over them in Avvish before they bumped cups together in cheers, downing their contents.

Having never taken such a large dose before, Dhara immediately collapsed, being caught and guided down gently by Dusan to Ilara. Her lap provided the dreaming mage with a pillow and hands at the ready for aid when she needed it. Evelyn felt Dorian's hands on her sides as he helped her down on her knees, her own resistance to lyrium not taking her as quickly as the younger mage. Soon enough, she felt her eyes roll back and the darkness take her.

When she awoke in the Fade, she knew there was no turning back. This is what she was trained for - made for. Looking into the murky green and black maelstrom swirling around her, it was time to begin. It was time to kill her demon.