It's a strange sensation - he hears both at once, Danarius and Hawke's voices overlaying on one another, surely as though to drive him mad. But he only sees Danarius, and every time he swipes at him, his blade cuts into nothing but air, only to have him reappear at his back. His sniveling laughter haunting as it rings all around, a cold creep of something awful and sickening along his skin.

It's just a trick. He knows - he knows, and yet he can't stop, running for the nearest apparition of the man every time, screaming in anger and frustration when his sword once again cuts through nothing.

The voice calls his name again, more of Hawke this time, a cruel jest to wrench deep and awful into his chest. It's been weeks, far, far too long, since he's heard his voice.

A figure runs for him. Danarius, staff out, face twisted into a cruel, predatory expression as he advances. Something like terror thrills through him, deep into his core for one brief, awful moment, and then he's charging forward, ready to leap into a mighty blow with all of his strength.

"DIE!"