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Chapter Text

Rivain was hot. Rivain was always hot, but today the sun chastised its subjects from a cloudless cerulean sky. Alana wished they hadn't worn their usual contoured leather and steel skirmish jacket; underneath their adventuring gear they were sticky with salt. Their breathing was heavy and laboured, after fighting a patrol of Antaam invaders who had set up camp near the ruins of an old Grey Warden fort. The sea of the Rialto Bay looked invitingly refreshing, the waves lapis lazuli lapping lazily at the sand.

Taash drew their axe from the body of an Antaam soldier with a squelch and a spray of sanguine. They looked cool and unbothered by the heat; a combination of their natural heat-resistance as an Adaari, a fire-breather, their much lighter outfit of woven cords and a loincloth that left little to the imagination, and the fact that they grew up here, practicing their skills on these beaches, hunting treasure in the ruins, napping under palm trees. Harding stood gazing at Taash, face flushed fuchsia with a frisson of attraction. By this point, everybody knew - Harding just needed to admit it to herself.

The battle done, Alana turned to the team, ready to head back to the nearest Eluvian. They wanted to get back to the Lighthouse, have a shower, and get out of these sweaty leathers. As they turned, they saw a faint sliver of purple-green magic flickering out of the corner of their eye. The ethereal energy hissed and sparked, and grew into a hole which hollowed the air in front of them, a portal ripping through reality.

"What vashedan is this now"? Taash asked, readying their twin axes. Harding nocked an arrow on her bow, and Alana drew their wickedly curved mageknife.

A shimmering shape, a shadowy spectre appeared on the other side of the portal, gradually gaining solidity until they stepped one sandal-wearing foot through, and then another.

An elf, of the same height and build as Alana, wearing cut-off pants and a breastplate made of some light metal, apparently with nothing underneath, as their sleeves and midriff were bare and tanned the hue of polished olive wood. Their arms were a treasure map of tattoos. The elf ran one hand through their flowing fringe, gently tousled by the sea-spray breeze, which contrasted sharply with the buzz-cut shave on the opposite half of their head.

Alana's eyes widened, as did the other elf's. Their facial features looked familiar - the same angular nose, the same green eyes, the same mole above the upper lip. Alana glanced towards the elf's belt where they had a coral-hilt knife that was obviously magical and...was that ring the handle of...a lyrium dagger? Varric said that Solas had the only one in existence, didn't he? But maybe Alana got that wrong - their memories of Varric's conversations always seemed hard to hold on to somehow, slipping away like sand through an hourglass. They really should check in on Varric when they get back, they thought briefly, then forgot.

"Right then, a welcoming committee, is it?" the strange elf said, one hand twitching over the tip of their marine mageknife. They paused, taking in the other members of Alana's group.

"Taash? Harding? Andraste's tits, what the fuck is going on?"

"You...know us?" Harding tilted her head.

"Of course I know you - did you take a knock to the head in that last fight? You were getting into it pretty hard".

"Okay, excuse me", Alana interjected, "but just...what's actually happening here?"

The other elf gave a mock-salute. "Captain Laidir, Lord of Fortune. You want to explain why you're wearing my face and are hanging around with my crew?"

"Captain...yeah, not gonna call you that".

Alana's practiced snark carried a wavering hint of anxiety, as they recalled the crazed Venatori killer whose blood magic replicated an off-key rendition of Alana's form. The papers had named it the "Copy-Crow Case", but for Alana their own face, grinning and blood-bespattered nagged at their nightmares. But that was different, they concluded. Whatever was happening here had no trace of the visceral wrongness of blood magic, or that skin-shuddering serpentine savagery behind the Venatori mage's stolen eyes.

The elf that stood in front of Alana seemed...real, less like looking into a distorted mirror and more like recognising an old friend whose path diverged from your own many years ago.

"Well, my friends call me Rook", Captain Laidir replied glibly, yet with an undertone of threat. "But you're not my friend". They drew their mageknife and adopted a fighting stance.

Alana conjured a crackling sphere of energy in their off-hand. "Yeah? My friends call me Rook too, another thing we've got in common. You can call me Alana de Riva, of the Antivan Crows".

The Captain laughed, full-throated and hearty, the laugh of one who enjoyed verbal sparring as much as battling with bloodied blades. "Fine, then. I'm Lana", they said, tucking their knife back into their well-worn belt.

"Lana...as in Alana?"

"Nobody calls me that".

Alana weighed up their options, wondering which was the least weird. They sheathed their mageknife and sighed, running a hand through their hair before speaking. "I think...okay this is gonna sound nug-shit crazy...but I think you're me".

Lana put their hands on their hips and raised their chin defiantly, a gesture Alana was all-too familiar with - it was how they made themself look bigger when they wanted to appear more intimidating.

"The fuck you say? I'm the Dread Pirate Laidir, the one and only".

"There's two of you?" Taash asked incredulously. "Oh, this is gonna be fun".

Alana ruffled one hand through their hair again. Lana's eyes narrowed, recognising the nervous tic they shared.

"Okay...Lana..., do you know Emmrich?"

"The death mage guy? Sure, he's in my crew. Last I saw him he was doing...something with bones I guess, creepy shit probably".

"Well, I...we have an Emmrich here too, and I think we need to go speak to him. If anyone can figure this out, he can".

Lana considered the suggestion, spat on their hand and held it out to Alana who shook it gingerly, glad for the first time today that they were wearing leather gloves.

"Right then, let's shove off - you lead the way, Crow".

---

"This your Lighthouse?" Lana asked as they walked through the central library, the brass astrolabe perched precariously overhead, revolving in perpetual motion through some ancient arcane mechanism unknown to the building's current dwellers. Lana idly picked up some small knicknacks from the low round table at the centre of the room, eyeing them suspiciously. "It's a bit boring, Crow - mine's full of treasures and trophies from our scrapes with...well, everyone".

"You don't like it, go home then" Alana sniped.

Lana flashed them a look like a thunderstorm about to break. "The fuck you think I'm trying to do?"

They walked up the spiral stairs to Emmrich's study in silence, hoping the mage would be in residence.

Emmrich was indeed in his rooms, in conversation with Neve. Well, he was conversing, discoursing on the finer points of spirit magic, while Neve leaned back on his desk with a cup of burnt-smelling coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other. They both looked up when Alana walked in, with Lana a half-step behind.

Neve dropped her cigarette, and leapt up to stamp it out on the polished parquet floor.

Emmrich gazed at Alana, then at Lana, then at Neve.

"Extraordinary!" he exclaimed. "Absolutely extraordinary. A transdimensional, geotemporal manifestation! I knew that those recent etheric disruptions I discerned were unusual, even by the standards of the particularly unusual times in which we find ourselves, but this is unprecedented".

"See your Emmrich is as wordy as mine then", Lana quipped. "Hey, Neve. Andraste's ass, is there any world where you can make a decent cup of coffee? I can smell that stink from here!"

"So...do you know what's going on then, Emmrich?" Alana queried. "This isn't Venatori again, right?"

"Oh no, there isn't a trace of maleficarum about their person. This...version, or variant, so to speak, of your good self is as real and corporeal as you are, Rook".

Neve took a step closer, meeting eyes with Lana, then giving a sidelong glance to the Alana she knew.

"There's two of you? That could be fun, Trouble".

"Don't get ideas, Neve", Alana said with a chuckle. "We're getting this one back home as soon as we can".

"Spoilsport", Neve replied, taking a sip of her coffee. "Well, if you need me to piece any clues together, you know where to find me...both of you". With that, and a wink to Alana, she left the three of them to it. The soft clink of her prosthetic echoed as she walked down the stairs.

Emmrich looked closer at both of them.

"You really are quite alike, this is fascinating. Shared traits, perhaps of spirit as well as physicality, across diverse iterations of reality. Magister Pavus wrote eloquently of his experiences with temporal travel and the possibility of alternate futures but this is something quite, quite different".

"This is Lana Laidir", Alana said.

"Captain Laidir", interrupted Lana.

"What they said", Alana sighed. "Can you fix this, Emmrich? Two of...us in one place doesn't seem like a good thing".

Emmrich made a small hm noise and called for Manfred to fetch some books that might help illuminate the situation.

"If my initial hypothesis is correct", he said after a while, "you, Captain Laidir, have been drawn to this reality, because of a...hole, one might say, in that quantum fabric which not only keeps the real world from the Fade and vice versa, but keeps a vast, possibly infinite, multiplicity of realities separate. I surmise that whatever the gods are doing here and - one must presume - in your world too, is causing ruptures that threaten not only Thedas and all the continents of our realm, but all realms, and something - or someone in our reality has responded, by transpositing you here. In short, Captain, I believe you have been brought here for a reason, and I shall endeavour tirelessly to ascertain what that reason might be".

"My crew are back there, fighting darkspawn and gods and Maker knows what, and you're telling me I'm fucking stuck here, death mage?" Lana drew close to Emmrich and looked him in the eyes, which was a challenge since he was so much taller than them but somehow Lana's presence made Emmrich step back and swallow nervously.

"For the time being, I'm rather afraid so. I do, however, expect that..." Emmrich paused, steepling his hands in front of him. "That there may yet be others".

Alana shook their head. "Wait, what? Other ones? Other mes? How many others?"

"We can only wait and find out, I fear", Emmrich said. "I shall require to return to the Grand Necropolis, I wish to consult with some fellow Mourn Watchers who specialise in the study of the ether. I suggest you both come with me".

"No, no way," Lana said defiantly. "I don't fuck with the undead".

Emmrich gasped. "I should hope not! Such an unspeakable practice is, I must assure you, utterly forbidden by the Mortalitasi".

"Relax, Prof, it was a figure of speech", Lana responded, a half-smile playing on their face. "Different reality, same Emmrich".

Alana placed one hand on Lana's shoulder, firmly but in what they hoped would appear as a friendly, not hostile, gesture. "Look, Lana, Cap, ...we don't know what any of this means, and until we do it's best not to leave you here on your own. I don't know you and you've no reason to trust me but if I'm you, then you know when I'm lying - and when I'm trying to help fix...this".

Lana shrugged away from the grip, sighed, ran their hand across the shaved side of their head. "Ah, fuck it, it's an adventure, I guess. For gold and glory and all that. But before we shove off, you got any rum around this place?"

---

"I don't know how you do things in the Lords of Fortune, but this is my stuff, so back off!", Alana snapped petulantly.

They knew they were being a bad host and, honestly behaving like a teenager, but they couldn't help themself. Something about being in the presence of someone who was you, but not you, but still recognisably...you, set Alana's nerves on edge. Did they annoy other people this much? It might explain some of their more madcap misadventures, mused Alana.

Lana closed the lid on the small polished rosewood box that sat atop Alana's sideboard.

"Relax, I wasn't going to steal your powders and pigments. Like the look, by the way, all purples and blacks. Very...Crow. I just figured that might be where you keep the good booze".

"You've had enough", Alana retorted, moving their makeup box out of reach.

Lana snorted. "Wine-drinking Antivans...lightweights!"

"You're lucky it wasn't my poison kit", Alana said darkly.

"Got any clothes?"

"What?" Alana was losing their patience.

"I'm dressed for sunny Rivain, not Nevarra. That place is cold. And we're the same size so..."

Alana pressed their fingers against their eyes, breathed deep, and walked to their deceptively spacious and probably magical wardrobe. They rifled through their outfits, mostly dark leathers and wing-cut cloaks, or disguises for undercover contracts, and pulled out a double-breasted leather peacoat, so dark blue it appeared almost black until you held it up to the light, whereupon it shimmered like a midnight sky.

"Here, put this on", they said, thrusting it at Lana. Alana's eyes narrowed. "This is vintage Trevisan leather, from a master artisan who died without anyone to take over the family trade. It's been worn by three generations of Crows. If you as much as scratch it, I won't need a contract to take you out".

"Cute that you think you could", Lana mumbled, heaving the heavy coat onto their shoulders. Their eyes caught something silver glinting in the lamplight, around Alana's neck, and their hand went to the chain around their own.

"What's that, a locket?"

Alana grunted a "yes".

"What's in there?" Lana asked. "Lilac petals?"

Alana's eyes widened. "How could you...?"

Lana pulled out their own locket, silver seasoned into stains with salt spray. "Same".

Before Alana could reply, Emmrich appeared at the door in his travelling clothes, Manfred following behind with a stack of tomes.

"Ready for the off, are we?"

Chapter Text

"Captain! On your left!"

Captain Lana Laidir turned swiftly on their heel, sandal-leather squeaking on stone, and fired off a blast of flame from the floating fire-orb hovering above their left hand. Several ravaging revenants were reduced to charred cinders.

"Thanks, Prof!" they called back, nimbly leaping from the fray to offer an assist to Alana de Riva, who was admirably holding off their own crowd of clawing corpses, lightning licking from the tip of their mageknife.

"Need a hand, Crow?"

Alana looked askance at their other-worldly counterpart. They fought in a similar style, they noted. Both favoured quick fade-steps into the fight, hitting hard and fast, then escaping before the enemy had a chance to hit back. Bundled up in Alana's leather peacoat, the Lord of Fortune almost looked like another Antivan Crow. Almost. Viago would never let a Crow of his House go out wearing sandals.

"Watch your own back, Cap, I've got mine", Alana replied. Their hands fizzed with static as they sent an arc of amethyst energy into the undead horde, causing skeletons to stagger into each other, tibias and torsos tumbling to the ground.

"That's the last of them", Emmrich said with a relieved exhale. "Now, we simply must find -"

His words were cut off by a rimbombo, reverberating and rolling through the resonant chambers of the Grand Necropolis.

"The fuck is this now?" Lana swore.

The three readied their weapons - Alana and Lana standing back to back, mageknives drawn; Emmrich preparing a protective sigil which glowed green around the trio.

"Demons! We've got demons!" Alana shouted.

"A rage demon at that", Emmrich added, "and more undead coming our way from the right!"

The vast atrium, built as a place of peace and remembrance for the deceased, filled once again with the clamour of conflict. Magic illuminated the marble walls in greens and purples, flames danced like dervishes as the rage demon unleashed its fire, caring nothing for who or what got in its way, spirit and dead alike burning in its wake.

"Emmrich, heal me!" Alana called out, reeling backwards from a blow to the head, blood dripping over one eye, obscuring their vision. Emmrich deftly dispatched a pair of sinister shades and cast a soothing spell to stem Alana's bleeding.

"Is this ever going to end?" Lana grumbled.

"It seems", Emmrich panted in short breaths, "that the same ruptures in reality that brought you into this world, Captain, have awoken the restless dead, and summoned demons from the Fade, in quite unprecedented numbers".

"So, we're fucked then?"

Alana laughed, despite the desperation of the situation they found themselves in.

"A Crow always finishes a job, or dies fighting", they said, gritting their teeth. "So let's send them back to the void!"

---

An explosion of veilfire, vivid verdant vibrancy that seared Alana's retinas. The tell-tale hissing and sparking of a portal opening, like the one in Rivain. A figure half-seen through the haze of green flame, staff raised high. An echoing voice intoning an incantation. Undead and demons dissipated into dust, falling to the floor like cadaverous confetti.

The figure resolved into a shape - a familiar shape of an elf, with an angular nose and green, piercing eyes. This one wore a black leather coat with spiked shoulder pads of copper, stained corpse-pale with verdigris. Their face was tattooed with intricate magical sigils, and their dark hair was swept up into a messy bun, held together with pencils and determination.

"Professor Volkarin", the elf said warmly. "Good to see you here in this reality as well".

Emmrich gasped. "was that a modified Banishing Rite of Ashk'Eente?"

The elf nodded. "Combined with the Conflagration Sigil of Hoehnheim. In my world, they call that the Ingellvar Manoeuvre...Alanna Ingellvar, at your service. Tell me, Professor, did this world suffer the War of the Banners?"

"We did. We lost a lot of good Watchers to quell the warring spirits. How did it resolve in your world?"

Alanna gestured to the debris all around them. "I did that".

"Another one? Maker's arse!" Lana exclaimed.

Alana looked at this new arrival. Sure enough, they seemed to be another variant of themself. "You said this reality", they began slowly. "So, you know what's going on, then?"

The Mourn Watcher held Alana's gaze, for just a moment longer than was comfortable.

"The Mourn Watch in my world have been measuring these etheric disruptions for some time", they replied. "They started with Solas' ritual and have only got worse since. It was only a matter of time before a rupture opened up in the Necropolis. Myrna and Vorgoth are monitoring things back home, and I volunteered to go through".

Emmrich looked impressed, and Alanna waved one hand dismissively. "Someone had to, we need to fix this - whatever it takes. Emmrich...I mean, my Emmrich, is leading the team while I'm away. Not that he's my Emmrich, not in a romantic sense", they added quickly, waving their hands in a non-committal gesture. "No offence meant".

"None taken, I assure you", Emmrich replied politely. "But where are my manners? This is Alana de Riva, our fearless leader in this world, and this is Captain Lana Laidir".

Alanna appraised them both dispassionately. "A murderer and a pirate? Strange times make for strange companions".

Lana squared up to them. "We're not your fucking companions. We're the same person or whatever, so you're not better than us".

Alana gently placed a hand on Lana's shoulder, taking a step between them and the Mourn Watcher. "We're gonna need to find a way to work together, okay? So, if you've been studying this, what do you know?"

"I don't have much, ideas mostly, theories...Emmrich, do you have a copy of the Tractatus Aetherica?"

"Back in my study in the Lighthouse", he said thoughtfully. "I was going to consult with a colleague or two while we were here, but it seems you have more - shall we say, direct experience of our current predicament".

"Well, I suggest we spare no more time here than we need to. Another rupture could open at any moment", Alanna replied. "Where's your nearest Eluvian?"

"Great", Lana muttered, "looks like we've got ourselves another Emmrich".

---

"So, Alana and Lana...which I assume is short for Alana as well, yes?", Alanna Ingellvar enquired as they made their way through the Eluvian at the entrance to the Necropolis.

"Nobody calls me that - got it, death mage?" Lana said in a low, quiet voice that conveyed less a threat as much as a finality.

"You think the name thing is important?" Alana asked.

The Mourn Watcher tilted their head a moment, meandering in thought. "It could be, in a situation as unusual as this, there are no coincidences. My own name came from the grave where I was found, a small granite headstone beneath a lilac tree".

Lana and Alana shared a sideways glance at the mention of lilacs. Another point in common.

The Lighthouse Eluvian danced like light upon water as the three "Alanas" and Emmrich passed through, emerging into the basement room where the gilded mirror that was Solas' very own Eluvian, the Vi'Revas, the Freedom of Ways, stood imposingly at the end of a long bridge that arced above an abyss of the Fade.

The group walked wearily up the stairs, and flung themselves down on the various couches and chairs gathered around a small, low circular table in the Lighthouse's central space, taking a brief moment of respite to catch their breath before figuring out what to do next. Manfred emerged from Emmrich's study bearing a silver tea-tray, with a steaming pot of simmering herbs and, curiously, four teacups on delicate saucers. Emmrich nodded his thanks, too worn out to speak, but noted with some intrigue whether this suggested that either Manfred in particular, or spirits in general, possessed sensitivity to these inter-dimensional rifts.

A shimmering haze appeared in the air before them, taking on the form of the Caretaker, that spirit who seemed to be bound to the Lighthouse and the Crossroads beyond, and who occasionally altered the decor, furniture and even layout of the strange building floating in the Fade that Alana and the team now called home.

Dwellers, the words were not so much spoken as simply appeared in everyone's heads at once. The ruptures in the ether grow. Rifts in the Veil, holes in all the worlds. The Wolf's Fang tears. Many in one, one in many.

A brief flash of blue-white light and the Caretaker vanished.

"Cryptic as usual", Alana muttered. "Do your Lighthouses have one?"

Lana grunted a confirmation, and Alanna nodded gently. "I was wondering", they said, "about the nature of the Caretaker. It could be, theoretically, that each of our Caretakers might be an aspect of the one singular spirit, who might exist across all realities. If so, that changes our notions of spiritual existence. But the Wolf's Fang..." they trailed off and looked at the lyrium dagger at their waist. "If we all have one, and yet only one exists..."

A creak of ancient hinges caused Alana to look up at the main door, which opened slowly at first then all at once, as Bellara barrelled through into the room excitedly.

"Oh. My. Gods!" she exclaimed, looking from Alana to Lana to Alanna. "It's true, there's others of you! Taash and Harding and Neve filled me in on the details, but they only mentioned one other, a Lord of Fortune, I guess that's you?" Bellara gestured at Lana. "And you're...a Mourn Watcher? Like Emmrich? This is so cool!"

"Hey, Bel", Alana said. "This is Lana Laidir and Alanna Ingellvar. We're...trying to get them home".

"About thaaaat..." Bellara interjected, stretching out her final word in a way that suggested bad news. "So I sent word to the Veil Jumpers while you were away in the Necropolis, and Strife and Irelin...well, they say there's been reports of ruptures and rifts opening up - pretty much all over Arlathan, and probably across all Thedas. I think it's getting worse".

"Can we never have a break?" Lana asked, running their hand along the shaved side of their head.

"Ooh, but I've got good news!" Bellara piped up. "I should probably have led with that, but...anyway, so there's an artefact in the vault, with the Veil Jumpers, and nobody knew what it did so we just kinda locked it away in case it caused people's eyeballs to melt or something."

"Has...that happened?" Alana asked.

"Oh, erm...yes, once. But it happened to a Venatori who was trying to steal some ancient elven relics, so it's all good. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes, so this artefact started glowing when the first ruptures started opening up, and it projected a map, like a hologram...and I thiiiink it might be able to predict where and when the next one's gonna open!" Bellara concluded triumphantly.

Alana got to their feet, slowly and still aching from the battle they had fought just an hour or so ago.

"Right, let's change our gear, get some food, and prepare to head out. Bel, you can show us the way. Bring Harding too, she's good in the forest".

"No fucking way", Lana complained. "The day I've had? Hey, Bellara, does the Hilt exist in this world?"

"The Lords of Fortune bar? Yes, it does, and Taash took me there for drinks and we fought in the Hall of Valour and it was the best time!"

"Cool. Hey Taash!" Lana called in the direction of Taash's room. The tall Qunari opened the door and came down the stairs, mopping sweat from their forehead with a towel.

"What? I was working out. On my final set too. Today's leg day. Oh, hey, there's three of you now", Taash nodded at the newest member of the expanding group.

"Want a real workout?" Lana hinted. "How about you and I go a few rounds in the Hall and get boozed-up at the Hilt after?"

Alana shook their head. "You either come with us or you stay here".

Lana moved up close to them, standing nose-to-nose, and held Alana's gaze. "You don't tell me what to do".

"They'll be with me, and the Hilt's full of Lords", Taash said calmly. "I'll bring them back in one piece, Rook".

Alana sighed. "Ugh, fine. But you, Ingellvar, you're with us".

The Mourn Watcher looked up from their notes, their face mildly aghast. "Oh, I'm not one for...outdoors. I'll stay with Emmrich here and do some research".

"Nope, you know more about all this than anyone I've met so far. If there's an artefact that does...whatever with these ruptures, I need you with us on this".

Alanna opened their mouth to protest, but the hard edge to Alana's voice and the look in their eyes said that it would be futile to argue.

Bellara bounced on her heels in excitement. "Right, I'll go get my stuff, and Harding, then we can head to Arlathan whenever you're ready".

"Mierda", Alana swore under their breath. "I'm gonna need some coffee first".

Chapter Text

Alana habitually checked their gear one more time, ensuring the straps on the steel breastplate that sat above their leather skirmish jacket were tight, that their mageknife was secured to their belt loop, that their various back-up knives, hidden blades, vials of poison and antidotes were all where they should be. Years of fledgling training followed by years more of Crow missions had made these movements instinctive. All secure, Alana reapplied their makeup, choosing a bruise-blush purple blended high above the eyelids, almost brushing the brow, and their usual deep inky black lips. They needed this ritual, these seconds of solitude and silence, to feel like themself again, especially after the utter weirdness of the last day or so. Alanna Ingellvar wasn't as immediately irritating as Lana Laidir at least, and the latter had loafed away to the Hilt, Taash in tow, for an afternoon of fighting and flagons of ale. But still, Alana thought, it was nice when the only one to annoy them was them.

They sneaked stealthily across the courtyard, hoping not to be caught by anyone who just needed to grab them for a moment, or had a question or a theory or a suggestion. They made it as far as the kitchen, which unusually didn't smell of freshly brewed coffee, or baked focaccia, when they saw Davrin standing outside the pantry where Lucanis had set up his cot - an unusual choice of room, but as he said, it's a good choke point with only one entry, and nearer to the coffee.

"Davrin, what's up?"

Davrin turned to look at Alana. "Lucanis is acting weird. Weirder than usual, I mean. He's holed up in here, locked the damn door and everything. I was trying to get a snack for Assan".

Alana knocked on the pantry door. "Lucanis? You okay in there?"

Faintly through the wooden door, they heard Lucanis' voice - no, not Lucanis, Spite.

"NOT RIGHT! TOO MANY! ROOKROOKROOK! TEARS IN THE WORLD. NOT. RIGHT!"

Then the sound of something being knocked off a shelf, shattering on the stone floor below. Then Lucanis:

"Rook, Spite is acting up. He senses...something, rips in reality he says. I'm fine, but I don't dare leave this room, not with him like this". Lucanis paused. "There's coffee beans on the second shelf in the kitchen, and rice and pasta on the third. We should have some vegetables out there too. You'll have to feed yourselves until I can calm him down".

Davrin chuckled low in his throat. "You're in there fighting a demon in your head, and you're worried about us eating? You're a strange one, Crow, but...thanks". He turned to Alana again. "I hear you're off to Arlathan, with Bellara and...another you? This is weird, even by our standards of weird. I'd come with you, but someone should stand guard here, in case Spite escapes again".

Alana nodded. "Thanks, Davrin. I'm just going to get some coffee then we're heading out. I'll say hi to the Veil Jumpers for you".

---

"Oh, this is...I'm unaccustomed to so much...nature", Alanna Ingellvar mumbled as they delicately picked their way through leaf piles, muddy puddles and what was almost certainly nug droppings.

"So, you're all badass and cool when dealing with living corpses, but you don't like to get your boots muddy, huh?" Alana teased.

"You live your entire life in an underground mausoleum, you get used to death. So much...life everywhere is more unsettling".

"Oh, there's plenty of death in Arlathan Forest, right Bellara?" Harding said with a sideways glance, nudging her companion with her elbow.

Bellara nodded, and gestured at a tree stump that was not a tree stump. On closer inspection it looked like a person, running in fear and lignified in place. "This forest is old, and full of weird magic", she said. "That's why the Veil Jumpers are here. The war - the massacre, really, when Tevinter fought the elves, it left a scar. The soil here is soaked in old blood magic".

Alanna stopped mid-stride, for once not caring about the state of their boots, and stood staring at one of the tree-bodies before them, that was in the process of being consumed by some giant, toothed, carnivorous plant. "Fascinating, utterly fascinating" they murmured, pulling a small vial from their belt. "I will of course need a sample for my research".

Harding shrugged. "Hey, whatever makes you happy, I guess".

"Ooh, we're almost here!" Bellara squeaked excitedly. "The Artefact Vault!"

Bellara led the group down a set of stone stairs into a vast, cathedral like space, filled with magical and ancient artefacts - some on shelves, some being tinkered with on tables, and others behind sealed magical forcefields.

"Hey Bel? Why do you have a wheel of cheese down here?" Harding gestured to one sealed away object that was unmistakably a large wheel of Ferelden cheddar.

"Oh, we don't go near the cheese", Bellara replied hurriedly. "Bad things happen if you touch the cheese. But what we need should be over...here!"

Bellara ran towards an alcove where an older elf sat at a desk making notes. "Erm, hi!" she began, "Strife told me you have an artefact that shows where these weird rifts are opening?"

The older elf nodded without looking up, and gestured behind her to a small globe, polished bronze, about the size of a large apple.

"That's it?" Alana seemed unimpressed.

The older elf handed Bellara a form and asked for her signature. "Strife has decided to keep records of who has taken out which artefact, after recent...events", she explained.

Bellara signed, and reached for the globe, which shone with green magelight and levitated some inches above her hand. "Ooh, yes, this is ancient elvhen for sure, which means they must have known about the possibility of rifts between realities, and - the existence of other worlds! The sheer existence of this artefact changes everything we thought we knew about the ancient elves...again!"

"Can we make it work?" Harding asked.

"I think it just - works", Bellara replied, "when there's a rift or a rupture or whatever we're calling these things". The artefact began to spin in the air, now glowing blue, and projected an image, insubstantial but clear; a map of where they currently stood. A small red dot appeared on the map, blinking on and off.

"That's not far from here, and I'm pretty sure that means a rift is just opening".

"Then let's go", Alana said, checking their weapons. "Let's see if this thing works".

---

"Nice kick, Taash!" Lana Laidir called as Taash drop-kicked the final mercenary into the bottomless pit at the centre of the Hall of Valour fighting arena. Isabela's voice, magically enhanced, echoed around the stadium.

"Victory for our very own hometown hero, Taash, and our guest from another world, the Dread Pirate Laidir!"

The crowd cheered as the two waved their appreciation, weapons held high, then headed through the arena doors and back up the stairs to the Hilt, the Lords of Fortune's bar and headquarters.

Isabela greeted them with free drinks, their reward for putting on a good show. "So, are you really from another world?" she asked. "When you came in with Taash, I thought, Maker, Alana's changed their look".

Lana nodded, and downed their drink in one gulp. "Yep, and there's another one of us too now, some bookish necromancer. Glad this place exists in this reality, though, I needed a drink".

Lana and Taash took a table near the bar, with a good vantage point over the arena to watch the next fight, and ordered a couple more drinks - fireball for Taash, a spicy spirit mixed with chillies and cinnamon, and rum for Lana.

"So, what do you really think of that Crow then?"

"Rook? Alana I mean?" Taash replied. "They're a good leader, and a good friend. They helped me figure some stuff out, about gender and whatever. You should cut them some slack".

Lana snorted. "Heh, whatever you say. There's something about them, annoys the fuck outta me - maybe we just need one good fight to clear the air. So, you two getting it on?"

Taash shot Lana a surprised look. "Me and Rook? No way! We flirted a little, but it was just kashlok, y'know? They're with Neve - and it's serious".

Lana laughed slightly. "You know, in my world, you - well, my Taash - and me, we're kind of a thing. Fancy a fling?"

"No offence, Lana, but eww no".

"Fair enough, can't blame me for trying. Another drink?" Lana gestured at their empty mugs.

"Just one", Taash said firmly. "I said I'd get you back in one piece".

Lana crooked their mouth into a sarcastic half-smile. "Sure, wouldn't want to upset the boss, right? Just one..."

---

The rupture tore through the heart of Arlathan Forest with a dreadful screeching sound and a blast of multicoloured magic energy. Alana and the team drew their weapons as a group of Venatori stepped through.

"In the name of the Lord Elgar'nan, we will conquer all worlds! All realities shall be made pure!"

"Great, interdimensional racists", Alana said, readying a sphere of crackling electrical energy.

The fight was messy, as fighting the Venatori often was. Magic was slung from both sides, Venatori assassins fade-stepped and stabbed, Harding and Bellara shot arrow after arrow, magical, explosive, and wickedly barbed, into the oncoming mass of masked maniacs.

"We will make Tevinter Great Agai-" a Venatori magister cried out, before falling back with a guttural gurgling as Harding's arrow struck him in the throat.

"Erm, Rook? Rooks?" Bellara called out. "The Venatori aren't our only problem".

A small horde of shambling tree-zombies staggered towards them, arms like wizened branches, fingers like blackened thorns, sightless, eyeless stares blank yet emanating fury.

"In the Necropolis, the ruptures woke the unquiet dead", Alanna Ingellvar said in between blasting necrotic energy into the Venatori, withering their bodies and minds instantly. "With all that old blood magic you told me about in the soil..."

"Love the theory, but can we focus on the undead tree people who want to kill us?" Alana snarked, sending a bolt of lightning to take out three Venatori at once, then fade-stepping to the tree zombies and switching their magic to produce fire, burning the paper-thin bark, and causing a shrill, dry scream to emerge from mouthless faces.

Fighting on two fronts, the small group were quickly overwhelmed, their backs to a dense thicket of scrubby trees.

"The Gods send aid!" A Venatori shouted, pointing over their shoulders as another rupture tore itself open behind them.

"Mierda", Alana swore. "What now?"

From the glowing hole in reality, an elf stepped forth, holding a staff carved from ancient oak, that glowed spring-green at the tip. They had angular features, eyes like a forest canopy in summer, and short-cropped dark hair that looked as if they cut it themselves with a hunting knife. Their leather armour was worn with age and use, patched with strange materials in places, and their face was heavily tattooed. Bellara recognised the design as vallaslin, the Dalish elven blood-writing.

"Another one? Am I glad to see you. Now help us!" Alana yelled over the din of the fight.

The new elf took a small metal cylinder from their belt, and threw it into the fray. "Get back to the trees!" They shouted to Alana and the group.

The cylinder beeped three times, exploded in a blast of blue flame, then contracted, creating a spinning black vortex that pulled in Venatori and tree-zombie alike, crushing them with a creaking, cracking, sickening sound, then closing with one last beep, and falling to the forest floor.

"What was that?" Bellara asked.

"Compression grenade", the elf replied. "Picked it up a few Jumps ago. So, there's two of you in this world? That's new."

"There's three of us", Alana replied. "Well, four now I guess. The other one's gone to the pub, of course. I'm Alana de Riva, this is Alanna Ingellvar. I guess you know Harding and Bellara - or some version of them at least. And you are?"

"Venarla Aldwir", they said, shaking Alana's hand roughly. "We can talk more once I've closed these rifts". They moved to the rift they came through, and drew the lyrium dagger from their side. Holding it up to the rupture, blue-green energy flowed from the rift into the dagger, closing it as if it were never there. Venarla repeated this motion on the larger hole that the Venatori came through.

"You can close the ruptures?" Alanna asked, notepad in hand.

"The dagger can", Venarla replied. "You didn't know that? It's not enough though, it can only close one at a time and - "

"And there are hundreds of rifts opening up all over Thedas", Bellara said breathily.

"Not just this Thedas. All of them. I've Veil Jumped between dozens of worlds, and it's all the same story. Ruptures spitting out demons, darkspawn, and worse. Even with all of us, with three - four - daggers, there's no way we can close them all".

"Hold up, you've been to other worlds?" Alana asked.

"Plenty of them. Met plenty of us, too, along with a whole lot of other folks calling themselves Rook and carrying one of these lyrium daggers. You said you're Alana de Riva, right? I watched you die. At Weisshaupt, in another reality. You fought until the end. Some worlds, you see, are like this one only slightly different. Others are so bizarre I don't know how to describe them. You ever heard of a place called Nug-E-Cheese?"

"Nugs and...cheese?" Harding asked with a sideways glance.

"Never mind", Venarla shrugged. "Point is, we need a way of closing all of them. Everything, everywhere, all at once. Unless we have that, it's endgame - the gods will be the least of our problems.

"I have this..." Bellara said, holding out the artefact, which levitated between them.

"Good, you can predict the ruptures. That's something. I had one of those, a few Jumps back, but it got swallowed by a dragon".

"Oh...really?"

"Yep. That's where I got this pauldron from", Venarla turned their shoulder to show off a dragon scale piece of armour.

"Resonance!" Alanna shouted, uncharacteristically loudly. Everyone turned to look at them. "If one dagger can seal a rift, and we bring multiple daggers together at precisely the right moment and in the right place, then they could...theoretically...resonate with each other and set up a magical sine wave, flowing into all other realities through the ruptures themselves. I'll need to do some calculations, Bellara if you could assist, and I'll need access to Emmrich's library and, well, his brain - he's the best fade expert in the Watch - but, there's a possibility we could actually do this".

"What are we waiting for then?" asked Harding. "Let's get back to the Lighthouse and -"

Another rupture, smaller than the others, opened about two feet in the air with a slight popping noise. From it rolled a small shape, that unfurled itself as four pink feet hit the ground, and leathery, floppy ears bounced upward. It snorted through its bulbous snout, and waddled its way up to Alana on short stubby legs.

"A nug?" Alana peered at the creature, who was wearing a lilac-purple leather collar. It looked up at her with deep green eyes, unusual for such an animal, and squeaked happily. Alana examined the metal tag attached to the nug's collar.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me. Nuglana?"