Isaac leans on the end of his own branch and makes no move to touch the oak — enough of this place points towards contagion. Without contact the brush of his spell is imprecise, a prompt toward growth that snarls in strings already beginning to weave. Animal, vegetable; and magic as like to encourage the latter. He pulls back.

"If anyone's alive, say what you'd have said."

Maybe the Dalish can make sense of it. There are better questions to ask: Who made off with the Chantry's orb? How did they know of it, and did they enter from tree or glass? But the man's going to die, and there's no telling how long he'll last. They may need to chase a lead.