Chapter Text
Pain was the first thing Grace was conscious of, like knives tracing each vein and capillary in her arm. Spots of black cleared from her vision as she opened her eyes to the gloomy guttering light of a single torch, illuminating the cobbled tiles of a cell floor. Shackles clinked on her wrists, almost drowned out by the crackling green slash across her left palm.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now.”
Grace glared angrily at the woman who had walked into her field of view, heraldry gleaming on the battered breastplate she wore.
Seeker.
The Seeker continued, approaching Grace angrily. “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone in attendance is dead. Except you.”
“What do you mean, everyone’s dead?” Grace asked, blinking away the last of the spots from her vision. The Seeker seemed to ignore her, pushing into Grace’s face.
“What did you do?"
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“You’re lying!”
Grace fought the urge to spit in the woman’s face as she was hauled backwards, more forcibly than she expected. She felt her hands warm. It would be easy to blast her way out of the room. All it took was one spark.
The door slamming open interrupted both of their thoughts, a redheaded woman stepping confidently into the room, grabbing the Seeker’s shoulder.
“We need her, Cassandra.”
Cassandra let Grace fall back onto the floor with an undignified thump, the shackles clinking loudly.
“Look, I don’t know about anything that happened at the Conclave! What happened? What do you mean every one is dead?” Grace yelled, wincing as the strange mark crackled violently. Cassandra looked at her and then looked at the redheaded woman, as though searching for answers.
“It will be easier to show you.”
They pulled her to her feet roughly, shoving her through doorways and up staircases until she was shoved out into the light. Grace blinked hard, eyes watering at the sudden change in environment. Green light filtered through the heavens and stained the landscape in a sickly, eerie glow. Grace found her hands reaching for her neck, grabbing at the little gold chain that lay there. Her brain fumbled for an appropriate reaction, furiously going blank at the sight of the destruction before her.
She had woken in hell; some kind of demonic reverie like something out of a nightmare.
“Andraste’s mercy…” Grace whispered, steadying herself as a host of soldiers blasted past her, sending blasts of frozen air through her tattered clothing. It stung her nose as she inhaled, eyes going wide as she realized that her armor- her second skin, was missing. No wonder they suspected her, the mage in black. Without proof of office or Handler to vouch for her, she was just another apostate.
“We call it the breach.” Cassandra’s voice started Grace out of her thoughts as they cast their gaze back to the huge rending tear in the sky. “Some how, you are the only survivor to come out of it.”
“You’re joking,” Grace gasped, taking an unsteady step forward. The mark on her hand spat angrily, causing her to grasp at it, as though her touch would soothe the burning agony. Cassandra braced her as she sunk against the stones.
“Your mark seems to be connected. And it is killing you,” the Seeker explained gently. “Do you understand me?”
Grace’s eyes were still watering as she looked up at the sky again. “Of course, Lady Seeker. Whatever it takes.”
“Then you’ll–“
“I’ll help. I don’t care what happens to me, but if I can help, I’d rather risk my own life than anyone else’s.” Grace’s phylactery sputtered around her neck, almost as though it was begging her to stay behind. “I have to.”
Her ears were ringing from the explosion on the bridge. She rolled onto her left side gingerly, coughing as dust settled into her nose. Hands flashed brightly in front of her with the bright green, healing the cuts and scratches from the stone chips that continued to rain onto her.
“Get behind me!”
She looked up in time to see a monster rise from a patch of ice, bellowing and swinging razor sharp claws at the Seeker’s shield. A split second decision sent Grace scuttling backwards as wards surrounded the pair of women. Cassandra’s brow furrowed at the sharp scent of peppermint that filled the battlefield, glaring backwards at her charge before continuing her own assault on the demon. Grace continued to fumble backwards as the mark raged at the flow of power through her skin, sending her toppling backwards onto a pile of crates as another demon reared its head out of the ice.
Grasping fingers closed over a staff; roughly hewn but serviceable, partially broken in the explosion. It started splintering under her hands as she lashed out with fire and frenzy, clearing the area under the bridge in a few moments. The staff groaned under the weight of her power as she executed the last demon. Within moments of its last wail of pain, Grace found herself pinned to the ice by the razor sharp sword of the Seeker.
"Drop your weapon. Now." Cassandra’s voice was as cold as the ice they were surrounded by.
Grace glared at her darkly. "You know as well as I do Seeker, I don’t need a staff to be dangerous.”
“I do know that. And I know what you are, Hunter.”
Grace’s head dipped, though even she could not tell if that was from acknowledgement or shame. “Yes.”
“Where is your Handler?”
This question made her wince, almost curl up into herself. She looked up at Cassandra with welling tears in her eyes, hand instinctually curling around the phylactery, warm against her chest. She struggled to say the words as Cassandra knelt down next to her, gripping her shoulder.
“Hunter, where is your Handler?” she asked again, far more gently.
Grace blinked away tears, hands shaking. “Ostwick Tower.”
“I’m… I’m sorry.”
Grace pushed out of the woman’s grip and dusted herself off, raking fingers through her hair as she walked towards the Breach once again, trying to put as much distance between her and the Seeker as possible. “We have a battle to win, Seeker. I’d see it done first.”
The pair rushed up the hill, hearing the sounds of fighting grow louder. Cresting the rise, they saw a bright green slash through the air, and a group of people clustered around it. An elf rushed up to her and grabbed her marked hand. Grace grimaced at his surprisingly tight grip as he shouted at her and thrust her arm into the light. With a large crack, the split in the air snapped shut.
"Well, at least this thing is good for something." she sighed.
"Let's just hope it works on the big one." A gruff voice behind her sighed. She turned to see a dwarf shouldering an intricate crossbow. "Varric Tethras, at your service."
"Nice crossbow," Grace remarked as she retrieved a new staff from one of the corpses nearby, her own starting to crumble in her hands.
"She is isn't she? Bianca's one of a kind."
"You named your crossbow Bianca?” Grace snorted, rolling her eyes. She watched Cassandra groan in disgust.
"She'll be great help in the valley." Varric said as he smiled.
"Absolutely NOT," growled Cassandra.
"Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your men aren't in control anymore. You need me."
"If there are to be introductions," the tall elf strode up beside her, causing Grace to jump. "My name is Solas. I'm pleased to see that you yet live."
Varric nudged her, "He means he kept that thing from killing you."
Grace looked up into the elf's eyes. They were sad, if not outright cold. "Thank you" she said, honestly, hoping the warmth of his smile would touch his eyes in some way. He had already turned to the Seeker.
“She’s an exceptionally powerful mage, but there is no way that any mage could wield the power necessary to open this.”
Grace stiffened as a flash of light shot pangs through her mark and she eyed the Breach warily. This didn't go unnoticed, as Cassandra ushered their little group onwards, glaring at Varric.
“So, we’ve all had our names shared, what’s yours?” Varric asked, jogging up to the group.
“Grace. Grace Trevelyan.”
“Trevelyans are out of Ostwick right?” Varric asked. They had stopped at a ladder. “Didn’t know they had a daughter!”
“Most people don’t know about me anymore,” Grace answered, almost whispering. It earned her a quizzical look from Varric and Solas, and a sympathetic one from Cassandra.
“Because you were sent to the Circle, yes?” Solas asked. Grace shrugged.
“I suppose.”
A withering glare from Cassandra cut the line of questioning off as they made it to the forward camp.
Grace was immediately bundled towards a far table, where a rat-eyed, weasely man was screeching to the red head that had been in her interrogation room earlier. When he caught sight of her, his barrage of complaints immediately turned to her.
“I want this prisoner bound immediately and transported to Val Royeaux for execution!”
“No.” Grace turned to face Cassandra who was looking her in the face. Cassandra’s eyes flicked between Grace and Leliana.
“You would dare–“ the squirrely man started, but Cassandra took a single step between them.
“You do not have any authority here, Chancellor. She can be trusted."
“Cassandra,” Leliana whispered in warning. They looked back at Grace again.
“Regardless of what happens after, we must get her to the Breach,” Cassandra said more imperiously. Leliana nodded.
“We can charge the Temple, or we can take the mountain pass, though we lost a full compliment of scouts up there a few hours ago,” Leliana said. “What do you think we should do?”
Grace stiffened, her feet snapping to attention. “Take the pass, my Lady, with any luck we’ll encounter your missing scouts.”
“Are you sure Lady Grace?” Cassandra asked, glancing sideways at her.
“Best not to lose our whole army if this doesn’t work, Lady Seeker,” Grace muttered, frowning. “I don’t need anyone dying on my account.”
She pushed through the small crowd towards the gate, before falling to her knees as the mark flared, biting her cheek so hard she tasted blood. She could feel it pulling at her strength, sapping at her consciousness as the green light flickered and flooded her vision as she hauled herself back up, brushing frost and snow from her knees. She ignored the worried glances that passed between the groups of people watching her. Better her, than anyone else in that crowd.
She had nothing to live for anymore.
They found what remained of the scout group next to a large rift, spewing demons and monstrosities. Grace could feel the mark calling to the rift, and reached towards it, feeling the edges of the veil under her fingertips. They sang a painful, mournful song as she pulled them together, matching edge with ragged edge as she snapped them together, watching the demons that had fallen out of the tear disappear as their source of power waned. It took the breath from her.
“You’re getting quite good at this,” Solas encouraged, trying to make her smile. Grace frowned.
“Thank you,” she said politely. She didn’t mention how wearing sealing the rifts was, as it sapped her energy and made black spots dance in her vision. It was getting worse the closer she got to the Breach, each step feeling like a weight was pressing down on her, every inch a new arc of pain racing down her arm like a hornet beneath her skin, buzzing angrily.
The caldera was ringed by ashen corpses and charred stones, some still wearing the remnants of clothing and armor. Grace tried her hardest not to look at them as she moved into the still warm crater. It reminded her of the aftermath of Kirkwall, where survivors had been clawing at their stone coffins, begging for anyone to save them, some just begging for death. The memories hit her heart with an additional pang as she saw her Handler’s face swimming in her mind. She wished he was here now to take her hand and tell her that everything would be all right. That he was there to track her down. That someone had her back.
As the giant rift in the sky opened up a final time to release its hell upon the world, she knew that no one here had her back. She was as guilty as the person who caused this destruction. She found herself fighting for her life, but poorly, letting blows hit her, leaving marks of their damage on her skin.
“Are you mad? Close the rift now!” Cassandra yelled. Grace barely heard her over the din of executing a flurry of demons. She gritted her teeth and thrust her hand towards the crackling rift, her hand burning with pain and tears pricking at the edges of her eyes. She could feel herself being pulled upwards and she tried to dig her toes into the ground. Her vision tunneled, black creeping into the edges of her sight, until all she could see was a pinprick of light.
A huge crack rent the air, and she felt her knees give out as she slumped to the ground.
The last thing Grace remembered was a firm pair of hands gripping her shoulders, and Cassandra shouting, "You did it!" before she slipped into blissful blackness.