Another moment passes. Another long breath. Alistair has curled his fingers into the back of Cullen's shirt; now he loosens them, smoothing down the fabric.

"All right." No louder.

They don't know much yet. Maybe the eluvian doesn't connect to the Fade at all. And if it does -- Cullen would never order him there. Ever. Alistair's known that for years.

"You'll warn me first if you have to walk into that damn mirror? And you'll stay safe?"