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The spiderweb of black continues to climb as you watch in fascination. It’s almost to your wrist when you lock eyes with Ashur and say, “We’d better find Neve fast. I don’t think this gives me much time.”

“We can get you to the Grey Wardens—” Tarquin begins, but you shake your head.

“Nothing matters as much as the Shadow Dragons,” you say. “If we stop looking for Neve now, we might not find her at all.”

You can see that Tarquin is about to protest, but Ashur holds up a hand to stop him. “I know how to slow it down,” he says. “May I?”

You let him take your hand, magic crackling at his fingertips. You’ve been healed before and you’re expecting the same slow, tingling warmth—but this is painful, like flames inside your veins. Still, anything is better than the inexorable progression of the blight.

When Ashur has done all he can, he releases your hand. “It won’t hold forever,” he warns. “But it should hold for long enough.”

“Then let’s get back to the candlehop,” you say.

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