Dina woke at the break of dawn, with the light barely creeping through the window. Zevran stirred beside her, shifting, swallowing once, and then drifted back into sleep. Behind the man, the stub of a burnt-out candle sat on the dresser, with the wax having solidified into an odd shape.

Dina moved closer to Zevran and gently stroked his face.

"Hmm-m-m-m..."

She softly giggled in response to the sleepy, hoarse groan, rewarding her husband's neck with a quiet kiss.

Zevran cracked one eye open. "Someone's already being naughty...?"

Dina didn't answer, only laughed even more audibly.

"I hope I never wake up to anything worse," Zevran sighed, pushing himself up from the bed, leaning over Dina, and began to play with her lips, gently biting them.

Dina laughed, allowing Zevran to nibble at her lower lip, sucking it into his mouth, letting it go, and sucking it back in again...

"Zevran? You know, the truth is... I think, as a former virgin... well, I still need quite a bit of practice..."

Zevran chuckled softly, eyes closed, laughing into the kiss. "I get the hint, my beautiful." With that, his head disappeared under the blanket.

Dina closed her eyes and prayed to the gods to give them just a little more time, so the soldiers wouldn't come yet, so they could...

But then something loudly tapped against the painted windowpane, and Dina froze, her heart pounding in fear. She sat up with a jump, and instinctively covered Zevran with her own body, all within a split second, not caring if the blanket fell off her or if Zevran is pushed off her with force... But the sudden sound was only caused by a bird. Perhaps a lost dove. The mark was still visible on the glass, and a feather fluttered away in the wind.

Dina, heart racing, stared ahead, breathless.

Zevran pushed himself up behind her.

"Well, Dina, darling... there are things in which you're truly unique. No one's ever throw me off like that before..." Though Zevran clearly tried to make light of the statement with humour, there was an unmistakable tone of displeasure in his voice. He tried to pull Dina closer by her shoulder.

"I just got scared. I thought they were trying to break the window, I thought they were coming for you...!" Dina was leaning into his pull, but she didn't raise her gaze.

"For me? Through the window, my beautiful? They're not wizards, they can't fly."

"I know, it's just... I'm afraid for you, Zevran."

The man sighed. He didn't blame his wife, for he would have acted the same way. He stroked her face. "But it's not right like this, my beauty. I should be the one protecting you from danger, but you... you're the one who defends me with your own body? No, my beautiful." He pulled her into an embrace. "We need to change this."

"How?"

"Any way we can, but we have to figure something out."

"If we run away, they'll kill Morrighan and Leliana."

Zevran nodded. "The bastards have had us in check for a while now. If only this filthy Logan didn't have so many stupid soldiers! I'd kill them all, one by one!"

"Because of the agreement, you can't touch them now."

"We should gut that adviser. He's the brains behind it all, without him Logan is nothing. Maybe we could turn him against them somehow."

"They're pretty much inseparable. And Alistair? To me, it seems like he's not that comfortable with them after all."

Zevran nodded. "Alistair is the weak link, just as he was with us. He might still be useful, but I wouldn't bet on it. He betrayed us."

"Then we need Züiya. With her power, any of us could break out of here easily."

"We can't even talk to her, and we're cut off from Morrighan and Leliana too. It's a wonder we're not completely isolated from each other."

It seemed like there was no way out. If there had been, they would have found it by now. For days, they had been struggling in Logan's—no, rather Caentrin's—well-woven web, terrified of when death would approach them, like a giant spider.

Zevran's final words may have brought him back to the present. His faraway, thoughtful gaze returned to Dina, who sat naked before him, even more beautiful in the morning light. Zevran's palm glided between her breasts, across her stomach, and his arm wrapped around her waist.

"Dina. Come closer."

She grasped Zevran's shoulder, her eyes filled with concern as she spoke to him. "Don't think for a second that I'll let them hurt my husband. I don't know how yet. I only know that I won't let them."

Zevran smiled, gently stroking Dina's back and side. "You know... there's something I didn't mention to you. Sometimes, you think it will work out. You say, 'I'll go, no matter what,' but then you're standing there, and the 'how' doesn't come. And you realise that there are things that simply... have an end."

"What are you trying to say? Your life isn't ending today!"

"I really hope it isn't. But if... Dina, don't risk your own life for me. Don't jump in front of a weapon coming towards me." The man shook his head firmly, but Dina didn't respond. She only sat in his arms, her forehead resting against his chest. Zevran lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. "Dina? Do you hear me?"

"I don't want to be a widow so soon."

"You know... neither do I. Look at me."

She obeyed him.

"You made me promise to do everything I can to survive this madness. But now you promise me, you won't do anything foolish because of me."

Dina nodded at last, then embraced him tightly. Zevran's lips trailed down her neck, planting small kisses as he spoke to her. "You're the only woman I've ever fallen for. I won't give you up, or myself, so easily."

Dina tilted her head back, then lifted her hips and nestled herself into his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist. With her eyes closed, enjoying his kisses, she nodded to him. "I promise. I'll survive. We'll both survive."

Zevran pulled her hips closer, closed his eyes as well, and nodded back at her, approving.

"Madam! Open the door immediately!"

Dina froze in terror, and she could sense something similar in Zevran. He squinted at the door.

"Open it now! Immediately!"

There was banging, the sound of drawn swords, and footsteps. It's starting.

"No..." Dina whispered almost inaudibly. She stared, frightened, into Zevran's eyes.

From outside, another soldier's voice filtered through. "They've escaped, I told you they would!"

"If that's true, their friends will regret it! Madam, last warning! If you're inside, open the door immediately!"

Zevran nodded. "Open the door for them, my beautiful."

Dina, trembling, slid off him and quickly pulled on a long white gown.

"I'm here... Don't hurt Morrighan and the others!" she shouted weakly through the door. She glanced back at Zevran, who was sitting motionless on the bed. "Hide...! Or hurry back to your room!"

The man shook his head. "There's no point." Perhaps he thought he had already done both. Now it was time to face what was coming.

Dina opened the door just a crack, slowly at first, but as soon as the soldiers barged in, she quickly stepped back in fear. About ten soldiers stormed in, swords drawn. Caentrin walked slowly behind them.

"You weren't in your room, elf," he confronted Zevran from the end of the bed. "You broke your promise."

Zevran shrugged, grinning, then leaned back against the headboard. "I didn't break any promise. I'm still in your stinking castle. I simply spent the night with my wife. Are you jealous? I can understand that."

Caentrin clasped his hands behind his back, his jaw tightening. "Ah. So this is how loosely you interpret the rules. I should have known." He snapped his fingers at one of the soldiers, who seized Dina by the arm.

"Hey, hey...! Leave her out of this!" Zevran sat up.

Caentrin shrugged innocently. "Oh, come on, elf. We're just interpreting the rules loosely too."

"Let her go! You want me, so why show your strength on a woman?!"

Caentrin spread his arms wide. "You're right. You're the one I want. Your time is up. Your lady's heart will be fine, but why shouldn't she watch your execution?"

Dina shook her head. "No..."

Zevran quickly scanned the soldier holding Dina's arm, confirming that he was only holding her, not doing anything else. Then he spoke to Caentrin. "We'll see about that..."

"Don't act like you have any chance!" the councillor shouted at him. "Don't resist, just come along!"

Seeing the dark elf lose his patience, Zevran let out a short laugh, then suddenly, with a swift movement, threw off the blanket and stepped out of the bed, completely naked. He had gotten rather close to Dina just before, and it was still evident.

Caentrin looked him over with a smirk.

"Get dressed...!"

"Actually, I'm sorry for the size, ever since I started talking to you, it's been deflating, it was a little bigger before," Zevran remarked, just to cause as much discomfort as possible. After all, even though he was weaponless and standing naked in front of a group of soldiers with drawn swords, he might as well make it uncomfortable for them.

"By the heavens! Put some clothes on!" Caentrin snapped at him.

Zevran grinned and pulled on his trousers, while everyone waited for him.

"Oops! I've put them on the wrong way..." he deliberately delayed things.

The councillor sighed in annoyance and muttered, "No matter your tricks, elf!"

Zevran continued to whistle while getting dressed, then suddenly grabbed a useless torch from the wall, hastily shoved the ragged part into the embers of the fireplace. The soldiers, swords drawn, lunged at him, but he grinned and held up his makeshift weapon in their direction.

Caentrin stepped back. "Do you think you stand a chance against all of us? You want to fight all of us alone?"

"Don't think I'm stupid, sycophant. I know exactly what you want." Zevran straightened up and raised the light to the side of his face. "This. My face. My body is worthless to you, and without my head, you can't display it for the public. What proves that it's me, not just some unlucky bastard? You need my face, you scoundrel."

Caentrin squinted in fury.

Zevran's skin was already burning from the nearby heat.

"If I press this torch into my face and burn it beyond recognition, your plan is over, clever one. You won't even be able to say you'll find another husband. The people have seen me."

Dina pulled at her face with trembling fingers, not wanting to see this unbearable sight.

"If you burn your face beyond recognition, you'll die right along with it."

"But at least you won't be able to use my body!" Zevran laughed bitterly. "That time has passed when Zevran Arainai's body was used for selfish purposes! And you won't change that!"

Caentrin raised his chin. "You won't do it."

"Oh, but I will!" The flame neared Zevran's grinning face, and Dina screamed. Caentrin shouted to the soldiers, and they attacked Zevran all at once. He was forced to use the torch like a sword against them: he deflected one of their blades, but another made a shallow cut on his shoulder, and Zevran jumped back...

Dina's eyes widened in despair. Zevran was alone against them, completely unarmed, and without any protective gear, yet he stood his ground, facing almost certain death. Dina, however, didn't want to witness this, she shook her head, no, no, no...!

"Let go of me, fool!" she struggled to free herself from the guard's grip, but he just snarled and grabbed her with his other hand. Dina was determined to escape; she simply couldn't let them kill Zevran in front of her. The only thing that came to her mind was to rush to him and protect him with her own body... She was about to break her promise. Just like Zevran had the thought of pressing his face into the torch. Both of them tried, but both failed, and deep down, Dina felt in her gut that this would end only with one of them—or both—dying.

"No, don't hurt him!" She slipped out of the guard's grasp and immediately ran toward Zevran.

The soldiers surrounded him, swords drawn, and he backed toward the fireplace. Dina was the only one to cross the circle and approach him...

Caentrin nodded. The soldier, who had been behind Zevran, dropped his sword and pulled a small device from his pocket, one that could fit in his palm. Everything happened so quickly; Zevran barely saw anything except that the woman he loved was coming toward him, reaching out for him, when suddenly, a sharp pain pierced his neck. He spun around; it was the sly-faced, short soldier, holding a small vial in his hand, with the needle sticking out of Zevran's neck.

Zevran lunged for the needle, ripping it out, then stared at the greenish liquid in his palm. His mouth dropped open...

"Get back!" Caentrin shouted, and all the guards obeyed, not wanting Zevran to come near them with the needle in his hand. Only Dina remained inside the circle.

Zevran threw the needle to the ground. He suddenly started gasping for breath, stumbling, and grabbed the protruding shelf of the fireplace, his fingers turning white. He lifted his gaze to the slowly approaching Dina. His body fought the substance injected into him, trying to stay upright, trying to stay present, but he was already closing his eyes, again and again. Everyone just watched the warrior, struggling against something that couldn't be won.

Zevran wanted to keep his eyes open, and perhaps because he knew these were his last clear moments, he just looked at the approaching woman.

"I'm sorry... This wasn't how I planned it..." he whispered to Dina, then leaned against her shoulder. She caught him, but she could feel he couldn't hold himself up; Zevran's legs gave way, and he collapsed onto the floor.

Dina leaned over him... It can't end like this, not now, not this way. It just can't.

"Come on, take him!" Caentrin's voice came from somewhere far away, beyond the ringing in her ears. Then hands grabbed Zevran's limp body... She was hardly conscious, she screamed, flailing, shaking her head, unwilling to return to the reality where Zevran was being so treacherously dealt with. The only thing that mattered to her was whether her husband was still alive. She continued screaming, maybe someone slapped her to snap her out of this state, but it didn't even faze her.

She didn't know how she ended up in the courtyard, nor did she notice that Morrighan and Leliana were standing in the corridor with a team of guards, or that Alistair guarded the entrance with a small group of soldiers. She didn't even realise that Züiya was missing.

She only saw the platform in the middle, and the mercenary who stepped onto it, pulling the sack-like hood over his head. He was dragging a massive axe behind him. The executioner.

It was only when she overheard one of the soldiers muttering, "Come on, let's move, the drug won't last long!" that she stiffened in the arms of the men holding her, and her mind quickly began to form a plan. So Zevran wasn't dead yet, and Dina thought that whatever it took, she would figure out a way to stop that from happening.

Meanwhile, Zevran's body was being lifted onto the platform...

Dina looked around. Alistair was standing not far from her. Suddenly, she grabbed the knight's arm. "Please, help him! Stop this! Zevran is your friend!"

Alistair seemed visibly flustered. He looked around, checking who could see or hear them, then wrenched himself out of Dina's grasp. Though he didn't step away, he turned his head away from her. Dina's guards yanked her back into place.

Morrighan and Leliana stood in a ring of guards in the corridor. They couldn't help. Morrighan stared ahead with a grim, painful expression, while Leliana covered her eyes, perhaps already crying. Logan walked by behind them, smiling, leaning close to the sobbing Leliana, grabbing her shoulder as if to embrace her, but the red-haired woman turned away from him.

From below, Alistair stared up at them, his teeth clenched, nails digging into his palm.

Caentrin stepped onto the platform. "Make it as gut-wrenching as possible, let his innards hang out, randomly hack off a few limbs, I don't care... just make it look like magic did this to him. Don't touch his head, keep that recognisable. Pay special attention to the tattoo, make sure it stays intact. Suffering...?" He paused. "No, don't let him die all at once, he can suffer. At least it'll show on his face."

Zevran's body was dragged onto the platform, and there it was laid on a stool, lying on his back, his arms, legs, and head hanging limply, his bare chest on display.

Dina, in a daze, held her head, unsure if she should scream or sob. Caentrin descended from the platform, leaving only Zevran and the executioner behind.

"Use your shield."

Dina looked around, suddenly unsure who had spoken. Alistair stood rigidly beside her, like a statue, only briefly glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

That short phrase triggered something in Dina's mind, some process she couldn't even understand, perhaps not even she herself could have explained it. There was no time to think, no time to question whether Alistair had even spoken to her. One thing was on her mind: protection. Shield.

She shakily straightened up, ignoring the grip on her arm. She stood taller, maybe even taller than she was, and breathed deeply, again and again. Her eyes focused on Zevran's body, as her mind was flooded with an old awareness, the one she had survived with so far: she didn't know what she would do, but she would do it. Doubt had no place here.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place. Although she didn't fully understand, she knew who she was. Morrighan's image flashed through her mind, Dina is here with us, but what is her special skill? Zevran's playful smile appeared, pulling her toward his bed in their Perubian room, but Dina didn't go yet. She saw Harod running towards Dina, only to be impaled, Siss holding a pair of scissors that couldn't cut through the bubble surrounding her, Gaelin entangling himself in the web of trust woven before Dina's heart, Feléna, her first spell tapping against a shield. She saw Iolthland offering riches, but power slipping through his fingers, falling from the edge of the red-carpeted bench into nothingness at Dina's single, careful push.

She even saw the prophet, and herself, climbing the stairs after Zevran, ahead of Züiya, struck by a blow to her mind, but not breaking.

Then she saw a castle. Surrounded by gleaming iron walls. Logan's soldiers couldn't breach it, their feet slipping off. And she saw Zevran inside, in the innermost room of this castle. This castle was her—Dina herself.

Suddenly, it became clear to her that everything, every hardship she had endured, had been for this one purpose, that all the struggles had been shaping her for what she was about to do.

The executioner grabbed the axe's handle, groaning as he raised it high.

Perhaps Dina would die with it.

She didn't know what she was doing, but a mighty scream erupted from her mouth, and the hands holding her loosened their grip. She reached for Zevran, her vision blurred, and something happened. Dina didn't see what... But the executioner didn't strike. The raised axe trembled in the air, suspended by the magic. A wave rippled from Dina's palm, one, then another, and she pushed the axe higher. The executioner struggled, his face a mixture of shock, and a drop of sweat ran down his forehead.

Dina only heard the awe, and with one eye, she saw the soldiers running away from her. Even Alistair recoiled, and from somewhere—she didn't know where—she knew someone was slowly stepping toward her from behind.

Her voice screamed and shrieked, the magic flowing through her like some electric force, shaking her whole body, the body that magic had first experienced, and which now it fully claimed, as if it were a new territory.

One side of Dina's face burned, as if the very torch Zevran had once held up to his face had swung toward her. Inside, she trembled, a celestial power coursed through her and squeezed her, but she knew it too well, because she felt it. Like Feléna, she too was slowly being undone by it...

Someone stepped closer behind her.

But she didn't give up. No, even if it killed her, she wouldn't let go. From her hand, the rings of protection radiated again and again, and the air rippled around her, battling the raised axe. The executioner howled, with all his strength, bringing the axe down. The blade's edge dropped a finger's width and rose back under the magic's influence.

Then Dina felt her strength fading, realising she couldn't win this fight alone, and might even die, but it would be a twisted death, like Feléna, aging and becoming ugly. The blade didn't swing yet, but it seemed to be breaking free of the magic, and the executioner lowered it toward the ground, then raised it again, the blade much closer to Zevran's bare chest.

Dina didn't want to see what would happen with the third strike.

Someone stepped closer behind her.

No one dared approach them. The soldiers ran far away, Logan sputtered in vain, Caentrin sent them to attack, but they all stood silently, motionlessly. No one dared touch the Prophet of the Elven People.

The small Züiya's lilac dress didn't even stir. She stood behind Dina, then gently placed her hand on her shoulder. In that moment, Dina inhaled, her scream stopped, and she let the boundless force, the one the little girl received directly from the God of the Forest, flow through her. This power eased the burn on her face, stopped the buzzing in her head, and prevented her from collapsing. She straightened again, her stoop disappearing, but her body trembled even more, as if even more magic flowed through her now.

Zevran... Zevran... Come to your senses. If you don't, your wife will die under the magic's weight... And the executioner will kill you. Come to your senses, Zevran...

Züiya's voice came from the distance, calling out, yet softly. Her tone sounded steady, as if the fear had been burned away by the distance between them. Then Züiya got closer and screamed.

Come to your senses!

Zevran didn't know where he was at first, what was happening. He pulled his twisted limbs up and opened his eyes. He immediately faced the long blade of the axe hovering above him, and if anything could sober him, it was that. He grasped the weapon's handle just below the metal part and shoved it back with all his might. The heavy part of the axe hit the executioner's head, causing a crimson streak to appear on his forehead, and the mercenary collapsed.

Zevran stood up, his eyes scanning the platform for Caentrin, who immediately turned and fled, his dark blue cloak trailing behind him. Zevran grabbed the axe and chased after him. He knew he couldn't waste time with small soldiers; he was going after the dragon's head.

Dina had already collapsed to the ground, entirely defenceless, with only Züiya standing motionless by her side, almost smiling. Several guards had scattered, some drew their swords but didn't attack, as they dared not get close to Zevran, dragging the massive axe, nor did they dare approach the small Züiya, let alone harm her.

Alistair also breathed in sharply, remaining motionless... for a while, before suddenly moving. He rushed up the stairs, turned onto the circular corridor, and ran... Morrighan and Leliana noticed him, and later even Logan, who stood next to Leliana, nearly elated by his presence. His eyes widened as he turned towards him.

"Do you have any saving ideas, Alistair?!"

"Yes, I do." With that, he drew his sword and plunged it straight into the lord's abdomen.

A few soldiers moved towards him, but Alistair cut down the first, kicking the body that fell to the ground next to Logan, then snarled at the others. "Anyone who wants to join them, come forward! Logan is a traitor, and because of him, my father is dead! As the rightful heir, I demand what is mine!"

No more soldiers moved. It became clear that, despite their numbers, they were soulless, serving the lord only out of duty, and none of them was willing to die for his cause. Alistair cut the ropes from Morrighan and Leliana's wrists with a swift motion.

Meanwhile, Zevran had his hands full with a few Caentrin soldiers loyal to the lord who stood in his way, but he swiftly freed them from the burden of life with his axe. However, his weapon was too heavy, and the dark elf, still unburdened, was escaping.

At that moment, Morrighan dashed down the stairs, reached Züiya, wrapped her arm around the girl's shoulders, and called out to everyone. "Your lord is dead! He's dead because he thought he could control the prophet! Anyone who drops their weapon now will not be harmed!" Then, she half-whispered to Züiya. "Couldn't you conjure up something appealing for them, just as a demonstration?"

Züiya didn't need to be told twice. She raised one hand to the sky, and the air above the castle turned a vivid yellow.

The sound of clashing swords on the ground echoed as only a handful of soldiers from the vast army remained who did not surrender, some vanishing without a trace. Yet, the most unsettling thing was the yellow air—it had changed colour, although it was still harmless, and it created an unnatural, ominous atmosphere in the dark castle.

When the news of Logan's death reached Caentrin, he slowed down for a moment, turning around with his mouth agape, before snapping back to his senses and running from Zevran, who used the brief respite to make sure he didn't lose sight of him.

Morrighan and Leliana both grabbed swords nearest to them, while Alistair already had a bloodied one in his hand. He glanced indifferently at the lord's corpse, then looked at Leliana with concern.

"Be careful, don't get hurt," he whispered, before dashing off.

Morrighan, meanwhile, stepped from the prophet's side towards Dina, horrified as she bent over her. "Gods, Dina... Are you alright?"

Dina swallowed, nodded, and tried to push herself up. "What happened to me? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Your face...!" Morrighan stopped herself, instead turning to Züiya. "Can't you heal her?"

The little girl shook her head.

"The God of the Forest says this wound will not harm her, but will bring glory."

Morrighan stared, her mouth agape, first at Dina, trying to believe what Züiya had said, then at Züiya. "Little girl... Do you know that this... this was a prophetic statement? The very first one you spoke...!"

Meanwhile, Caentrin had rushed up the stairs, heading towards his laboratory. He glanced back towards Zevran following him along the corridor, whose eyes reflected death itself. However, at that moment, Alistair appeared in front of him, on the opposite side of the corridor. The three men stopped and looked at each other before Caentrin hurried through a door.

"He's heading to the library!" Alistair called as he ran closer. "There might be a secret passage from there to the laboratory, we can't let him get there!"

Zevran gave Alistair a sceptical look as the knight drew a scimitar and offered it to him by the hilt. It was Zevran's own weapon. There was no time to discuss reasons, and the elf took the gift from the knight, gripping the familiar hilt. "Thanks..." Then he added, "What's in his lab?"

"All kinds of dangerous substances. He practices alchemy."

Zevran said no more, rushing into the ancient library, with Alistair following. From the balcony above, they saw Caentrin's cloak sweep past.

"He's over there!"

They climbed to the balcony, Alistair taking the stairs while Zevran traversed the railing, and they reached a narrow corridor. By that time, Caentrin had advanced so far that they lost sight of him. Suddenly, an empty vial flew past them, smashing on the ground behind Alistair, the liquid inside turning into choking fumes. The knight started coughing, overwhelmed by the smoke and falling against the wall. Zevran barely managed to escape it, seeing the door at the end of the tunnel close. He kicked it open, sending Caentrin sprawling.

"Wait, wait!" The half-elf raised one hand in a defensive gesture as Zevran approached. "Let's make a deal. You want the woman and some peace, I want..."

"I'm not negotiating." Zevran's voice was cold and merciless. He swung his scimitar.

Caentrin fumbled at his belt in a last, desperate attempt. He searched for a small dagger, which, unable to reach Zevran with a thrust, he threw instead.

It was Dina's dagger—the very one Zevran had given her, the one she used to kill Harod and which had helped her survive on Gaelin's table. But Caentrin was no battle-hardened man; his throw was weak, and Zevran ducked, the dagger clattering against the ceiling before falling back down.

Zevran caught it mid-air, quickly twisting it in his hand before plunging it into Caentrin's chest.

The dark elf gasped and stared at Zevran in his death throes, and for a moment, Zevran considered twisting the blade for more pain. But in the end, he withdrew it, slashing the councillor's neck with it, and the half-elf fell silent.

Zevran took a deep breath. He stood over the body, breathing heavily, looking at the lifeless councillor. One hand held the scimitar, the other was dripping with blood from the dagger. Then he shook himself, ran to the laboratory window, threw it open, and hurried back to Alistair, who was still coughing in the tunnel. When Zevran arrived, Alistair lifted his head and, in a defensive gesture, raised his hand.

"Wait, Zevran, don't kill me..."

"Let's get out of here, Alistair," Zevran coughed, running toward the library. The knight followed.

They reached the inner courtyard, where Züiya was still swirling the yellow mist as though it were watercolour, and Leliana had gathered the defenceless soldiers together. But as soon as she saw the two men arrive, she dropped her sword and rushed toward Alistair. The knight slowed down, and Leliana did the same. Then the girl suddenly embraced him. Alistair, with a repentant expression, hugged her back tightly.

Zevran ran to where Dina lay on the ground and knelt beside her.

Dina was utterly exhausted, but it felt good to her that the man was lifting her torso. She saw Zevran first become serious when he looked at her face, but then he smiled and pulled her into his embrace.

"Zevran...! What happened to my face?" she asked, cuddling into him.

He kissed her hair lightly. "The magic burned your wedding tattoo onto your skin."

Dina closed her eyes, her fingers wearily gripping Zevran's bare arm. "But am I still beautiful...?"

"You're the most beautiful like this. And now you can't deny that you're mine."

Dina smiled faintly and rested on Zevran's chest.