Three months after revealing his plans, Anri had picked his way across Orlais and Ferelden to return to the Free Marches. He had journeyed part way with Varric but had to break off when he had detected some people following them. Eventually, he arrived and was granted his rights to his new home. Tucked within a niche of Kirkwall's lavish prime real estate, this stylishly dressed Dalish elf in a fine suit of dark samite tunic, waistcoat, pants, and black boots was doing an inspection of his manor.

  Earlier Viscount Tethras had jovially handed Anri the keys and title to the Hightown estate, with some Hangman Ale as a housewarming gift. After pestering the viscount's seneschal, Bran, to annoyance, Anri had learned that the former unofficial owner of his new place was a magister named Danarius. A nasty sort whom a mage-killer named Fenris had forcefully evicted to leave the title unclaimed.

  No one knew what had happened to the proper owner, but many guessed the likely reason for their vanishing act. Shortly after Danarius's death, heavy rumors had marked the manor as a blood ritual site. So, it remained locked up where people had pretended it didn't exist.

  The Kirkwall nobles were reluctant to see the former Inquisition leader retiring to the place but figured that if anyone could rid the taint from the building, it was him. So they let him go about his business as long as he didn't cause trouble.

  Anri stared at a watercolor painting of a forest in the Tirashan. It hung proudly on the central wall of his entrance foyer. Fortunately, the place was clear of Tevinter residual, so he could, more or less, move in and not suffer the sight of nasty bloodstains. However, he was missing a lot of furniture but didn't see it as a problem.

  "I wish Dorian were here. At least, he'd make the place look decent." He sighed, longing for his lover.

  Shortly after his newly formed Shadow Sect had dispersed with their means and plans set in motion, Dorian returned to Tevinter to do the needful. Anri had agreed to take on the facade of being a retired ruler who would waste away his peace in some fancy manor.

  "I wonder if I can talk to him now?" He heaved another sigh as he stared lovingly at the silverite locket and chain around his neck.

  The locket contained a small, magically charged crystal, which Dorian said was a Sending Crystal. Through it, they could communicate with each other no matter how far apart they were. It seems no magic was required to use the stone, although Anri wasn't sure how it could be activated.

  Unable to contain his desires, he decided to give it a shot. He opened the locket, frowning at the simple quartz that was dormant. He pressed, blew, and spoke to it, hoping it was the trigger, but it stayed stubbornly dead like any rock.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  "Sylaise, it better not need blood magic!" He cursed through his frustrations, making his yearning to hear Dorian's voice stronger. Through his cursing, some spittle dropped on the crystal to make it glow. "You've got to be kidding me."

  "Anri?"

  Anri's heart raced at hearing Dorian's voice.

  "I, er, was just seeing how this thing worked."

  "Hmph, that's not the only reason? " Dorian huffed.

  "Oh, come on, you know it's not just that, but it's embarrassing for me to say that I really missed you, and I've been holding on for three months." Anri blushed.

  "Yes, three months, and this is the first time you've tried to call."

  Anri sighed at the man's haughty undertones. "It took me this long to reach Kirkwall after losing the trail of some dodgy elves."

  Dorian's tones soothed into an endearing sigh. Of course, he had been missing his Amatus too, more than he would ever tell him. The fact that Anri had called him first, and he could imagine his lover pouting on the other side, more than made his day. So he decided to change the subject.

  "Are you at your new place?"

  "Yes, it's barely furnished, but that's fine," Anri chuckled. "My first thought was that you'd make the place look decent if you were here."

  "Ha! Only descent?"

  A grin stretched wide on Anri's face. "According to the construction codex, it has a large subterranean area with tunnels leading out to the harbor and outer city areas. This place was possibly used for smuggling. A former magister had unofficially owned the place. I was told by Varric, Likely used for slave runs."

  A short silence fell upon the call; Anri suspected Dorian was doing his best to keep his cool.

  "Oh? That's interesting. Surely this magister is no longer around."

  "If you're worried, don't be. Hawke's partner, Fenris, more than made him check out of this world."

  Dorian sighed with relief. "Well, that's something then."

  Sounds of commotion on Dorian's side interrupted their call. Anri fretted as he detected urgency in the man's voice.

  "What now?" Dorian addressed someone else.

  "Is everything alright?"

  There was a brief pause before Dorian hastily responded, "I'm fine, Amatus. Look, sorry, I have to go, but I'll try to call you later on. Please stay safe. If anything happens to you, this world will pay."

  "Dorian, I'll be fine; please make sure you stay safe too. I love you." Anri was worried when the crystal went dormant. His eyes narrowed murderously at the thought of Dorian being harmed. "If anyone harms my magister, I'll make them suffer a thousand deaths."

  His dark emotions triggered a sensation through his half-arm, which caused painful and violent sparks that had him stumble against the painting, triggering flames on the canvas.

  A feverish sensation overwhelmed his body: his hand trembled with upset nerves. He slumped to the ground, unmovable.

  Greenish, fade energy seeped out of the flagstones to lull him into a dream.