Fear took over, gripping him like a vice as the beast's maw closed around his torso.
He discarded the manifesting Memory. The half-formed sword — little more than a hilt — clattered soundlessly to the forest floor.
The wolf's fangs dug into his sides.
Bennan activated his Aspect again.
The teeth froze against his skin, halting for a fraction of a second and leaving four bleeding puncture marks behind.
A surge of kinetic force flooded into him. His muscles twitched as the energy threatened to overfill him like a fragile vase on the verge of cracking.
Before it could tear him apart, he released it all at once — raising his hands and gripping the beast's fangs, forcing its jaws apart just enough to draw a ragged breath.
The wolf snarled and wrenched its jaws wider
Then bit down again.
The attack was halted only by the last remnants of force still flowing into him from the previous impact.
What am I supposed to do?
My body can't take any more… and I can't activate it again for another second.
Bennan's fear-choked mind scrambled for answers.
His eyes darted to the Servant's Sword, now fully manifested on the ground near his feet.
But it wasn't an option.
If he went for it, the beast would tear him in half before he could even touch the hilt.
Bennan wasn't sure what he had expected. What had he been thinking earlier, telling himself he would likely survive the Nightmare? Even the Spell's evaluation had called him cowardly.
He would fight to his last breath.
But staring at the inevitability in front of him, he knew it was over.
Bang!
A deafening crack split the air.
Something slammed into the wolf's skull, knocking its jaws loose and sending it stumbling sideways out of Bennan's grasp.
Before it could recover, a blur too fast to follow struck the beast from the right.
The impact drove it into the earth, its massive body kicking up a cloud of dust.
When the haze settled, an older man stood atop the wolf's side, withdrawing a blood-soaked dagger from its neck.
He looked to be in his mid-forties. Lean and weathered, he wore light black leather armor — the kind favored by scouts and rogues.
Shaking his head, he muttered flatly,
"Dormant. And it almost killed you."
Bennan stared at the man in frozen reverence. Slowly, he let out a jagged sigh of relief and knelt to grab his blade.
As his hands wrapped around it, a rustling noise at the edge of the clearing caught his attention.
He turned sharply, raising the sword defensively.
"Put that pathetic thing away, boy," the gruff man growled.
Bennan opened his mouth to protest — but glanced down at his Memory.
The blade was in a sorry state. Dulled in several places. A large nick marred its edge where it had clashed with the beast's fangs.
Lowering his arm, he allowed it to dissolve back into the nurturing embrace of his Soul Sea.
Turning back toward the clearing, he realized the mist now covered only a small portion of the area.
Once beautiful, it now looked eerie, disgusting, and predatory.
Though it filled him with dread, something in the back of his mind still wanted to walk back into it.
A chill crept down his spine.
So that's a mind attack…
Two figures emerged from the tree line where the rustling had come from, walking through the thinning mist toward them.
As they drew closer, their shapes sharpened.
One was a young man with combed-back blond hair. Heavy, lustrous armor gleamed beneath his blue cloak, the metal reflecting the moonlight like a mirror.
Beside him walked a young woman with long, inky black hair. She wore a grey silken robe, her pale face cold and unreadable.
They looked around Bennan's age.
As they exited the mist, its tendrils parted around them — then lingered for a moment, as if reluctant to let them go.
The young woman's pale face tinted faintly red as she turned her head away from Bennan.
Huh? What did he do now?
Suddenly his view vanished entirely.
He tensed, heart pounding — only to realize he'd been smothered in fabric.
The young man had unfastened his blue cloak and tossed it over him.
Looking up in confusion, Bennan met the young man's amused grin.
"You're kinda naked man."
Heat rushed to Bennan's face. Muttering an apology, he wrapped the cloak around himself.
"Thanks…"
"I'm Bennan, by the way." He said reaching out his hand.
The young man clasped it firmly.
"Toven," he said with an easy smile, nodding toward the older man. "And that's Varric."
He glanced back at the young woman, then returned his gaze with a faintly uncertain expression.
"And her I'm not really sure. She hasn't spoken since she joined us two days ago. We think it might be her Flaw."
Two days?
That was impossible.
The solstice had only ended hours ago.
His stomach dropped.
Slowly, Bennan turned to stare at the retreating mist, a dark realization settling over him.
If she had been here for two days…
Then where had he been?
"Pleasantries are over," Varric said, cutting through the silence. "We need to move."
He glanced up at the moon, eyes narrowing.
"I want to get out from under it. Back to the tree line so we can set up camp again."
As they began to move, Bennan spared one last look at the retreating mist.